“Foreign objects are items that seep through from the consciousness world, or perhaps conceptual fragments; they usually carry some troublesome characteristics.”
“Motherfucker,” she gritted her teeth, squeezing out the low curse in He Jiulu’s crisp voice.
“Cursing me won’t change the current situation, you know~ Zee-goo-goo-goo-goo!”
There was no time to waste. He Jiulu rushed out, her combat boots thudding rapidly on the old stairs.
She ignored the startled looks from passersby—a young girl in a strange military uniform sprinting—as she quickly recalled the address provided by Akausagi.
She moved through the gaps in the crowd with physical abilities far exceeding an ordinary child. The black cross patterns in her red pupils flickered slightly, her enhanced dynamic vision capturing every detail that might hinder her progress.
He Jiulu soon arrived at the park where she had first met Akausagi. It was filled with the scent of flowers and the chirping of birds as usual. The silhouettes cast by the sunlight were exceptionally sharp.
The midday sun was particularly piercing. Only a light breeze brought a hint of coolness amidst the crisp chirping of cicadas.
Notably, several people were gathered around an old Taoist priest who possessed an air of transcendent grace. The priest was distributing strange objects, which the people eagerly accepted one by one.
He Jiulu stepped closer and felt a surge of nausea.
The objects the priest was handing out were twisted and eerie, like malformed things woven from countless tiny human fingers interlocked together.
Every knuckle was clearly visible, carrying a morbid vitality. The skin on the fingers was ruddy with bulging veins, and half a thumb was twisted into a stem.
The “limbs” formed by the interlocking fingers were restless, moving in ways no human joint could bend, nodding and swaying with a disturbing rhythm.
As the wind passed over them, a faint, miserable, and bitter laugh seemed to drift out.
From time to time, these things trembled slightly in people’s hands, as if out of fear or excitement.
“Heh heh heh… Young lady, would you like to eat a Ginseng Fruit?”
The old priest suddenly looked at He Jiulu. His face was full of kindheartedness, showing not even a hint of a threat.
“You… are you an anomaly that seeped through from some sub-universe of the consciousness world? You didn’t get detected by the Public Salvation Society because you look too much like a regular person, but the ‘foreign object’ in your hand was detected.”
He Jiulu didn’t believe in any actual Ginseng Fruit. She thought it was just a story compiled by one of the thousands of authors of *Journey to the West*, rather than something based on a prototype.
“What an impolite little girl. This humble priest is the famous Zhen Yuanzi of Wuzhuang Temple from the West Continent of Cattle-Gift. How dare you call my Ginseng Fruits ‘foreign objects’? I must teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents.”
As soon as the priest finished speaking, the surface of the Ginseng Fruits in the people’s hands began to ooze a thick, mixed liquid. It was a deep red flesh and blood, carrying a nauseating, fishy stench.
The flesh seemed to wriggle constantly, as if countless tiny insects were crawling inside.
“When autumn wind and jade dew meet, they drop their seeds, carving nests and ridges. Once branched, blossoms bloom and fade; they must be coaxed with wings of care. Within Wuzhuang Temple, the Ginseng Tree groans, heavy with fruits that compete in their strange fragrance…”
While Zhen Yuanzi muttered his incantations, He Jiulu simultaneously recited a Pseudology in her heart, constructing her magic wand, **[Dictatorship]**.
The people holding the Ginseng Fruits seemed to be under some kind of mental delusion. They began to fanatically devour the eerie fruits in their hands, baring their teeth and chewing on things that looked like bones inside.
In an instant, the world changed.
A scene of an impending storm appeared. The scorching sun was suddenly completely obscured by dark clouds, and the wind gradually grew stronger.
Every strand of muscle tissue in the bodies of the people who ate the Ginseng Fruits immediately tightened, deformed, expanded, and wriggled. They became new “Ginseng Fruits,” actively protecting Zhen Yuanzi.
In the bodies of these human Ginseng Fruits, every strand of muscle and tendon writhed like living maggots. Their bodies were covered in countless boreholes, each “breathing” and emitting a sickening stench.
Their skin was translucent, revealing the silhouettes of wriggling heart-eating worms and tendons beneath.
Those heart-eating worms, shaped like human fingers, tunneled between muscles and tendons, devouring and growing, making the bodies of the Ginseng Fruits even more bizarre and powerful.
Their bodies were constantly shifting and twisting, as if they had no fixed form. Their limbs, like massive hammers, suddenly struck at He Jiulu repeatedly.
The Ginseng Fruits’ movements seemed slow, but they were swifter and broader than those of humans. Every action carried flying sand and stones.
He Jiulu’s pupils constricted. A bloody wind blew in her face. The humanoid Ginseng Fruits swung their twisted, enlarged limbs, smashing down like battering rams and cracking the pavement.
She tapped her toes quickly, her combat boots scraping against the ground as she flew backward, narrowly avoiding the heavy blow.
The fierce wind made her cheeks sting, and her hair danced wildly under the brim of her hat.
**[Stagnation]**
The Dictatorship cane swung out as an invisible force tried to imprison the Ginseng Fruit rushing at the front.
However, the wriggling muscles and tendons of the monster erupted with shocking power. It only stalled for a moment before tearing through the shackles and pouncing again.
“Zee-goo! It’s no use! These people have been completely transformed by the ‘foreign object.’ Their consciousness is chaotic and violent, so Dictatorship’s effect on them is greatly reduced!”
Akausagi’s voice rang in her head, tinged with a sense of urgent excitement from watching the chaos.
More Ginseng Fruits closed in. Their attacks were disorganized but possessed immense strength, their limbs whistling through the air with dull sounds.
He Jiulu was like a small boat in a storm, relying on the enhanced agility and perception of her avatar to weave through the gaps in the attacks.
Her military skirt was torn, and her beret was blown away by the wind from a palm strike, revealing her red-streaked hair.
Zhen Yuanzi stood at the back, stroking his beard with a cold sneer. “Stubborn child, do you not know the power of the immortal arts? Wait until I enlighten you into a fruit as well, to be offered at the gates of my Wuzhuang Temple!”
He Jiulu’s eyes turned cold. She didn’t want to drag this out. ‘The time my original body can remain unconscious at the construction site is limited,’ she thought. ‘I have to end this quickly.’
She narrowly avoided another combined attack, shifted her footing, and lowered her body. Instead of pointing Dictatorship at the monsters, she slammed it into the ground.
**[Confusion]**
This time, the power of Pseudology was not aimed at a specific target but spread out from her as the center, like a stone thrown into a lake, stirring a circle of invisible ripples.
The movements of the rushing Ginseng Fruits stiffened simultaneously. Their chaotic consciousnesses, eaten away by the heart-eating worms, were hit by a stronger interference. For a brief moment, they were dazed and uncoordinated, some even colliding with one another.