Chapter 228: Fuli: Don't Look
I haven't made some colossal miscalculation, have I?
It wasn't surprising that Fu Xuan would harbor such doubts. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly as the jade abacus in her mind spun through countless variables. She knew full well that the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter of Memory was currently wandering the Luofu. For a Messenger from the Garden of Recollection to suddenly manifest at this exact moment—it was only natural for the Master Diviner to suspect the direct intervention of Fuli, the Aeon of Remembrance.
However, after a brief moment of calculation, Fu Xuan dismissed the thought.
If her current actions within the Matrix of Prescience had somehow crossed the Stellaron Hunter's hidden agenda, that unpredictable man would have already stepped out of the shadows to casually dismantle her efforts. Since the air remained quiet, her deduction held true: the Memokeeper's interference was most likely an independent action, not a divine mandate from Fuli. Their simultaneous appearance was merely a cosmic coincidence.
Even so, Fu Xuan couldn't shake the nagging sensation settling in her chest. March 7th's lost past was undoubtedly tethered to the Garden of Recollection. If it wasn't, why would those elusive entities go through the immense trouble of dispatching a Memokeeper to 'guard' her mind?
"Within the Garden of Recollection, there are numerous fractured factions, each harboring their own obscure agendas. It is entirely impossible to decipher their true motives based on a simple, vague self-introduction," Fu Xuan muttered, clearing her throat. Her sharp gaze swept cautiously across the shifting, ethereal surroundings of the mindscape before she pivoted the conversation. "...This environment. It must be a memory projection of the Astral Express, correct?"
"It seems you are rapidly approaching the absolute source of your experiences," Fu Xuan continued, her voice echoing through the illusory train car. "Once you arrive at that focal point, the Matrix of Prescience can initiate its grand deduction. Do you remember exactly where you were discovered?"
"At that time..." March 7th tapped her chin, her bright eyes scanning the familiar velvet carpets and polished wood of the projection. "They placed the massive block of ice I was sealed inside right in the guest room. The one I live in now."
"Then let us proceed through this carriage and locate your room," Fu Xuan instructed.
"Okay!" March 7th nodded enthusiastically, her boots clicking softly as she strolled down the phantom corridor of the Astral Express.
As she moved, fragmented memories of the past bubbled to the surface, fluttering through the air like the delicate pages of a book caught in a sudden draft. Voices, warm and familiar, began to overlap in the quiet space.
"Dan Heng, let's open this ice together," Welt's seasoned, steady voice echoed from the void. "The person trapped inside might still be saved."
"Be careful, don't hurt her," Himeko added, her tone laced with gentle urgency.
"I'll be careful," Dan Heng replied smoothly. "Pom-Pom, go fetch the first-aid kit."
"Right away, Pom!" the conductor's panicked, squeaky voice chimed in.
March 7th paused, her breath catching slightly. This was it—the exact memory of the day she was pulled from the eternal drift of space by the Astral Express Crew.
Seeing the raw, unconcealed concern etched onto the phantom faces of Himeko, Welt, and the others, March couldn't help but let a soft, genuine smile curl her lips. The Express truly was her family. From the moment they chipped her out of that freezing prison, she had known nothing but warmth and happiness.
Of course, she had never actually seen this perspective before. She had been dead to the world, locked in a deep slumber. This particular sequence was a buried fragment of her deepest subconscious, gently coaxed into the light by the supreme calculating power of the Matrix of Prescience.
Humming a cheerful tune, March stepped forward, reaching out to slide the partition door open to the next carriage.
But the moment her fingers brushed the metal, her vision violently warped. The colors bled together into a dizzying smear, and when her sight finally cleared, her boots were planted firmly at the exact starting point of the Parlor Car.
She blinked, her smile faltering. She spun around, taking in the familiar couches and phonograph. What's going on? How did I end up back here?
"It is that Messenger," Fu Xuan's voice sliced through the confusion, ringing directly in March's ear. "She is actively interfering with your cognitive pathways again."
"I see... then I'll just have to try again!" March puffed out her chest, marching determinedly down the aisle.
Yet, the result remained identical. Every single time she reached the threshold of the next carriage, the world would twist, spitting her right back out at the starting line.
To make matters worse, an ethereal, disembodied whisper began to echo relentlessly inside her skull. "Don't look back... keep..."
The looping scenery and the hypnotic chanting made her head spin, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth and sprinted down the corridor three more times, only to be smoothly teleported back to the start.
"The entity interfering with you is deliberately blocking your forward progress," Fu Xuan's analytical voice chimed in once more. "Perhaps... only by moving backward can you uncover your past."
"Don't look back... keep..." the strange, haunting voice whispered again, refusing to give up its psychological assault.
March 7th stopped dead in her tracks, a brilliant spark of realization lighting up her pink and blue eyes. She snapped her fingers. "I totally get it now! As long as I do the exact opposite of what this annoying voice wants, I'll break the loop and find the way out!"
She placed her hands on her hips, tossing her pink hair with a proud laugh. "As expected of a genius like me~"
"The moment you open this next door, the Matrix of Prescience will simultaneously launch a full-scale deduction of your origins. If you are mentally prepared, let us begin," Fu Xuan stated, her tone shifting into absolute seriousness.
March 7th gave a heavy, determined nod. Turning her back to the forward path, she reached behind her and shoved the rear door open with all her might.
The spatial distortion shattered like fragile glass.
In the next instant, the grand Parlor Car vanished entirely. March stumbled forward, catching her balance as she looked around. She hadn't arrived in another generic hallway. She was standing directly in the center of her own bedroom.
"Eh?!" March squeaked, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink as she frantically looked at the scattered clothes and unmade bed. "Why is it my room... I haven't even had time to tidy up! Sorry you have to see this mess, Lady Fu!" She scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously.
"This is your personal quarters?" Fu Xuan materialized beside her in a projection of starlight, her sharp eyes completely ignoring the clutter. Instead, her gaze locked onto the massive, crystalline structure dominating the center of the space. "Then this massive block of floating ice... was it originally part of your interior decor?"
The colossal chunk of Six-Phased Ice rotated lazily in the air, radiating a biting, ancient chill that frosted the edges of the room.
"The ice..." March murmured, her embarrassment fading into a look of deep curiosity. She took a slow step toward it, her reflection warping in its pristine surface.
"This is highly likely to be the 'Foreign Object' we are searching for," Fu Xuan noted, watching March's reaction closely. "It appears our journey through your mindscape has finally reached its terminal step. I will confirm this with you one last time—are you absolutely certain you wish to explore your lost past?"
"Yes..." March replied, her voice losing its usual playful lilt. "I'm sure."
Without a shred of hesitation, she took a deep breath, raising her hand and pressing her bare palm flat against the freezing, unyielding surface of the ice.
CRACK.
In an instant, the bedroom dissolved. March felt a sensation of weightlessness, as if she had plummeted straight into a cosmic slipstream. Rivers of flowing light whipped past her, the surrounding scenery shifting and expanding into a stunning, endless galaxy of fractured memories.
"Whoa... this is..." March blinked, her eyes wide as she floated through the dazzling expanse. She had never seen a place so beautiful, yet so incredibly lonely.
"Lady Grand Diviner? Where are you?" she called out.
Silence answered her. After a long, tense moment of waiting for Fu Xuan's familiar scolding tone, a different voice echoed through the starry void.
"The Matrix of Prescience has engaged its deepest calculations; she is currently bound to the array and cannot assist you here."
The Memokeeper's voice flowed from the starlight. It remained calm and ethereal, though the frantic urgency from their previous encounter had noticeably faded.
Just moments ago, this devoted Memokeeper had desperately attempted to contact Fuli, begging for guidance. The Aeon of Remembrance had offered no response. Yet, the Memokeeper remained undiscouraged. How could a mere mortal expect to gaze upon the face of an Aeon so easily? Even a supreme intellect like Herta had to undergo exhaustive, universe-spanning preparations just to secure a brief audience with Nous. To have witnessed Fuli even once in her existence was already a blessing beyond measure.
, the Memokeeper rationalized, Fuli had not actively stopped her from interfering with the Express girl. In the fanatic mind of a Garden follower, silence was a form of tacit divine approval.
Right. This is right. I am protecting the Remembrance, the Memokeeper thought, her resolve hardening.
"Why is it you again?!" March puffed out her cheeks, glaring into the shifting lights. "What does me remembering my own life have to do with you? Why do you keep trying to stop me at every turn?"
Was her past really that dangerous? Was her true identity some kind of universe-shattering taboo?
"Please, you must trust the Garden of Recollection," the Memokeeper pleaded, her voice ringing with an unshakable, sincere firmness. "Everything I am doing... it is solely to protect you."
There was no malice in the entity's tone. Her intentions were so blindingly pious, so utterly devoted to her cause, that they lacked even a single drop of impurity.
"You can't protect someone by locking them up in the dark!" March shot back, her fists clenching at her sides.
"...I understand your frustration," the Memokeeper sighed softly. Slowly, the flowing light coalesced, forming the elegant, veiled figure of the Messenger. "Since you are so fiercely persistent about uncovering the past... then please, follow me. I will show you your 'starting point'."
The Memokeeper turned her veiled gaze toward March, her eyes swirling with complex, sorrowful emotions. "But you must promise me one thing—do not attempt to explore anything further back than what I show you."
"Trust me. There will be absolutely no benefit in doing so."
March 7th eyed the ethereal woman dubiously but eventually nodded, floating after her through the cosmic slipstream.
They drifted until they arrived before a towering, monolithic structure of shimmering, indestructible ice. It dwarfed the chunk in her bedroom, radiating an aura of absolute, frozen eternity.
And there, perfectly sealed within the center of the glacial tomb, was a girl with pink hair, her eyes closed in a peaceful, endless slumber. It was none other than herself.
"So beautiful..." March whispered, her breath misting in the freezing air as she stared at her own frozen visage.
Meanwhile, far removed from the digital mindscapes and divine deductions of the Luofu, Leon was lounging comfortably inside the pristine, climate-controlled environment of Ruan Mei's private ecological ship.
The genius scientist herself was currently fast asleep in the adjacent quarters, her breathing soft and rhythmic after a rather... exhausting session of biological research with him.
Leon, however, was wide awake. Leaning back in a plush chair, he had a holographic projection floating casually in front of him, his golden eyes fixed intently on the live feed of March 7th's progress inside the Matrix of Prescience. He popped a synthesized grape into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the show.
Let's see what kind of crazy backstory the universe cooked up for her, Leon mused, leaning closer to the screen as March approached the giant ice block.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
Before Leon could even blink, his entire field of vision went pitch black. A sensation of pure, crystallized conceptual energy pressed gently but firmly against his face.
"Don't look..." an ancient, echoing voice reverberated directly into Leon's soul, carrying the weight of a billion frozen galaxies.
Leon paused, a grape halfway to his mouth. He didn't panic. Instead, a dry, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Fuli, the literal Aeon of Remembrance, had just manifested across the cosmos for the sole purpose of physically covering his eyes like a protective parent shielding a child from a horror movie.
Well, Leon thought, leaning back into the icy hands with a soft chuckle. That's new.
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