MTL - Survivorship Bias-Chapter 111 Memory pieces

The arrow made An Wujiu think of the sacrifice at dusk, he suppressed the discomfort in his heart, left the bed, and followed the instructions step by step.

He could feel the cold wind blowing through the corridor to lift his cloak, and he could see that the arrow was bent, so An Wujiu supported the wall and turned to the temple.

What An Wujiu can't see is that the huge stone sculpture behind the stone screen has come to life at this moment, the thousands of snake eyes on its body are slowly moving with An Wujiu at the moment The body is turning, and the top of each one is glowing with a faint blue light.

Walking forward, An Wu Jiu suddenly heard the sound of a stone cracking, so he turned his head slightly towards the source of the sound.

The sound is interrupted.

He didn't know that at this moment, the tip of the tentacle on the stone sculpture was already stretched out in front of him, just a stone's throw away from his temporarily blind pupil.

An Wu Jiu faintly felt the crisis, but he pretended to be ignorant, turned his head, and continued to walk forward.

Those tentacles stayed where they were, and did not continue to follow him.

The stone gate of the temple has been opened, An Wujiu followed the direction of the arrow all the way forward, left the temple, and walked towards the mountain where the sacrifice was made.

The road uphill should have been much easier than at dusk. After all, he was alone at the moment, and there was no sarcophagus on his shoulders, but An Wugui felt heavy. It was as if many hands were dragging his legs and ankles, making it difficult for him to move forward.

The sound of wind and snow whizzed past her ears, An Wu Jiu vaguely heard a different sound.

It's Mom's voice.

[You have to remember how your father died. ]

The moment the broken sound disappeared, a scarlet scary picture suddenly flashed in An Wu Jiu's dark vision.

It was his father lying in a pool of blood, his eyes were scattered, a happy smile hung on the corner of his mouth, and there was nothing else. All that was left was an empty hole in his chest, gushing blood, and his still beating heart clutched in his hands.

An Wujiu shook his head in a trance, but the picture could not be dissipated. He tried to close his eyes, his father's cold body was still displayed in front of him.

Those forgotten childhood shadows came back to An Wujiao little by little, whether he wanted to think about it or not.

My father cut himself off.

He saw it all with his own eyes, but he forgot it all.

An Wujiu's brain is like a broken mirror, the countless fragments in the mirror all reflect the same picture - Father opened the dusty book in front of him, right He spoke strange languages, he destroyed all his books, his life's research.

"It's all fake...all fake..."

Father's madness is extremely calm, he calmly destroyed the data, the blue flame in the lighter burned those precious documents.

"No one can be transformed into their enemy, and no one can resist his return."

The young An Wujiu approached his father, "Dad, who are they?"

Father didn't even look at him, as if he didn't exist, he just whispered to himself.

"No savior, no, no."

His expression was so calm, but the blue veins on his neck were twisted and bulged, as if a worm was about to burrow out of it.

In the countless calls of An Wu Jiu, the father finally looked down at him.

The next second, he stabbed a knife into his chest.

Among the fragments, the father muttered to himself.

"He's coming back..."

It was also the same evening, the blood-red sunset covered his pale and handsome face, reflected on the book that fell to the ground.

He remembered the ecstatic tears in the corners of his father's eyes, his black and white eyes turning into a frantic, gloomy blue.

The picture was so clear, An Wu Jiu saw his father goug out his heart and whispered.

He said, God, I give my heart to you.

Please keep my wife and my children.

Even if An Wu Jiu ran against the biting wind, he could not get rid of the pictures that had tortured him for countless nights.

The collapsed building block was restored little by little, and the shattered porcelain pieces were restored to perfection. He remembered the death of his father, but he could not exchange for him.

Under the guidance of the red arrow, An Wujiu stumbled to the top of the mountain.

Looking at the tombstone ignorantly in his mother's arms, he asked where his father was.

He held a large bunch of white peony in his hand, and his mother grabbed his arms and ordered him not to mention his father's death again.

A few men in black suits stood at the entrance of the school, their mother took his hand and walked quickly through the crowd, as if escaping from something.

Mother bought many fake IDs, dug out the citizen chip behind his ear, burned all the documents and memory related to the "Human Innovation Project", and moved with him and his sister constantly.

An Wujiu, who could not see anything, has come to the sacrificial cemetery on the top of the mountain, and now he is facing Andrew's tombstone.

In his eyes, what he saw were rows of small tombstones carved from wood pieces in his childhood backyard.

That was done for those dead nightingales.

Strange, it was a very cold winter, just like now.

Why didn't those nightingales migrate?

An Wujiu stood blankly in front of Andrew's tombstone, letting the red arrow dissolve to draw a line of the tombstone, there was a **** handprint in the middle of the tombstone.

He understood that this was a hint from the system, so he stretched out his hand, overlapping the **** handprint.

"Good evening, my dear gravekeeper."

A voice sounded, very similar to the sound of sacrifice at dusk.

I don't know why, the voice was low and hoarse, but An Wujiu subconsciously thought it was the same person's voice as the rabbit before.

"Want to know if the people you sacrificed during the day are good people or cultists?"

An Wujiu was silent, his mind was in chaos at the moment, as if every nerve was twisted together, suffering and struggling.

The three words cult appeared from the first copy of his experience, and he never took it seriously.

But it turned out that his father was also a cult.

Maybe not even my mother.

"Go ahead."

An Wujiu was like a hairspring, standing straight on the spot, colder than a tombstone.

The voice laughed, and there was an indescribable contempt in the laughter.

"Does the fact that he's a good guy upset you?"

An Wujiu turned around, the arrow was already pointing back.

"I expected it."

The cold wind blew, and the light of the blood moon spread over the whole earth. An Wu Jiu was his **** childhood all the way, he remembered why his mother burned the whole house, because he pointed out the sun symbol on the wall, he repeated it and told his mother that he had a dream about God last night. , the mother went mad in an instant.

She covered his mouth and kept ordering him: "Shut up!"

No matter how much An Wujiao cried, the mother couldn't recover from the frenzied anger, she tearfully denounced his stupidity and told him not to recite those things.

"Can't talk! Can't see! Can't hear! Can't do anything!"

The mother's painful cry circled in An Wujiu's mind, even the road down the mountain was extremely rough, An Wujiu almost fell to the ground.

"Listen to me, blue, never look directly into those blue eyes! Remember, or you will die like your father! Me and your sister too In the same way, we all die without a place to be buried!"

Blue…

There are no blue objects in their home anymore, even the clear sky, his mother will not allow him to look directly.

She said the sun is dangerous, and the blue sky is even more so.

An Wujiu never saw the clear sky again, and later, he was locked up in a room like a coffin, and he never had the chance to see the real sun again.

All he could see was a digitally simulated image.

As long as he can complete the tasks assigned by those people, he can get a reward of "basking in the sun" - spending an hour in a virtual "sun room".

Data, everything is data.

Plants are virtual, sunshine is virtual, fun is virtual, even friends are virtual.

When he was trapped in that dark white lab, An Wujiu realized that he only had one friend.

When he closed his eyes, he could describe the appearance of "him": shimmering scales on his body, a magnificent iris like a kaleidoscope, and a long tail extending like many vines.

In order to test An Wu Jiao's regeneration ability, they used sophisticated machinery to precisely cut the meridians of his hands and feet, breaking many bones in his body. An Wu Jiu was placed on the experimental table like a smashed broken vase, lying there cold, half-dead, his dry lips were squirming and muttering in a low voice.

"He" will appear, staring at himself standing on the edge of death, he has no physical hand to reach out to save him, but An Wu Jiu is already satisfied.

He closed his lips and silently poured out all his pain to "him" in his heart.

"It really hurts."

"I can't take it anymore..."

"Can you...kill me..."

"He" didn't say a word, just used his changing pupils to fascinate his last sanity.

An Wu Jiu doesn't know "his" name. He never revealed his name, he was just a nameless **** who accompanied An Wujiu through countless terrifying nights.

Staggered back to the temple, An Wu Jiu was completely lost, as if only an empty shell was left. The keenness of his subconscious made him vaguely feel that someone was staring at him, but he couldn't see anything.

An Wujiu was a little self-sacrificing and thought about it, at this moment being killed by a cultist, at least he won't be so tired anymore.

These flood-like memories are about to crush An Wugui’s nerves, and he finally understands why he lost his memory, or the electronic female voice that appeared when he woke up, the initiator, why did he Make him lose his memory.

Because he couldn't bear it.

Even the tip of the iceberg is enough to crush a seemingly solid cruise ship.

I had known one day earlier, with his extremely divisive duality, who would have known if he would have gone crazy.

But until he returned to the room and opened the door under the guidance of the red arrow, the death he expected did not come.

An Wujiu fell on the bed, he felt hot all over, even if he tightly wrapped the quilt, it would not help. He seemed to be thrown into a pool of scalding water, his body and soul were stripped away, his body struggled endlessly, but his soul could only watch himself drown and die on the shore.

A magnificent and grotesque dream overwhelms An Wu Jiao.

In his dream, he changed back to that little boy, the one who could recite those ancient symbols silently when he closed his eyes every night before going to bed.

At the age of seven, he is the only witness to his father's self-sacrifice, a weak priest on the verge of collapse, unable to shake off the shadow of his father's death.

He is like every soldier who has survived the cruel battlefield, repeatedly experiencing those indelible wounds in countless peaceful nights, those pictures and sounds are constantly reappearing, making him There has also been a mental shift in survival.

So every night, he thinks of the words and marks written on the wall with blood before his father died, he can recall the book on his father's body, the book that was spread out when he fell content of one page.

Young and twisted, he repeated that page again and again.

Until one heart-wrenching night, the gods described on the kraft paper who were trapped in a faraway place really appeared in front of his eyes.

After all, he disobeyed his mother's order, opened his abyss-like eyes, and looked directly at the summoned thing.

But that's not blue, there's no blue anywhere.

Mother.

The eyes are clearly emeralds.