After walking for another hour, Lin Ye finally confirmed that continuing like this would likely lead nowhere.

In the past two hours, he had passed nearly 100 intersections, always moving outward without retracing his steps.

The place was simply that vast.

Lin Ye stopped walking.

If persistent effort yielded no results, perhaps it was time to change approach.

After the supermarket incident where he condensed spiritual energy, Lin Ye had fully acquired this ability. Though far weaker now compared to when the syringe enhanced him, normal use of spiritual energy no longer harmed his body.

The simulation couldn’t bring physical items or his original body, but it didn’t seem to restrict spiritual energy.

Lin Ye sat cross-legged and began absorbing ambient spiritual energy to strengthen his body. Unable to apply his own evolutionary pathways to Jason’s physique, he resorted to a basic circulation method he’d devised.

A single foundational cycle took just over ten minutes.

Once familiarized, Lin Ye stood and started jogging through the corridors, simultaneously absorbing energy during movement.

Another hour passed.

‘Seems running won’t get me out… and retracing hours of distance isn’t feasible either…’

Lin Ye initiated a final sprint.

When exhaustion peaked, he ended the simulation.

………………

[Remaining simulations: 9]

Lin Ye opened his eyes in the starting room, this time in no hurry to leave.

During the tedious exploration, his mind had never stopped working.

The system’s description of his talent ability stated:

Randomly simulates a D-Class personnel during missions.

‘So I’m currently on a mission. The question is—why would the organization abandon a D-Class here?’

‘Even expendables should be utilized fully before disposal, not wasted arbitrarily.’

‘If this were reconnaissance, they’d at least provide helmets.’

Inspecting himself and the room revealed no surveillance devices.

‘An accident? But does that qualify as a mission?’

‘No.’

‘Therefore this is intentional—an assigned task.’

‘Then what’s my objective? Why no mission briefing?’

Re-examining himself meticulously, Lin Ye finally discovered faint marker ink on his inner thigh:

*Consciousness Experiment: Reality-Concept Fusion.*

The handwriting style, stroke direction, and vocabulary confirmed it was his own writing.

Yet he had zero memory of writing it.

‘Sloppy penmanship suggests urgency when written.’

‘Is this truly a consciousness experiment?’

‘But I saw system prompts upon awakening. If I wrote this, shouldn’t I have already received prompts then? And would suicide in a consciousness experiment deduct simulation counts?’

Tugging his hair, Lin Ye conceived a terrifying possibility.

‘Could the system prompts be fabrications of my own mind?’

‘If so, exhausting all ten simulations might wake me?’

Suppressing the dangerous thought, Lin Ye closed his eyes, visualizing the red room as his shelter.

Peeking moments later revealed unchanged crimson walls.

Repeated attempts failed identically.

One cannot truly deceive oneself—especially someone as perceptive as Lin Ye.

‘Pretending the door leads to an ocean won’t work—I’ve seen the red corridors.’

‘Reality-concept fusion implies this isn’t pure mental space.’

‘I can’t alter the maze’s nature, but perhaps introduce plausible elements.’

‘Red maze, Mutation Creatures… why is it empty? Unless… this is its natural state—no system interference, hostile to Mutation Creatures. But if I’m here, others could enter too.’

‘This is an organizational mission, meaning events should unfold…’

‘What memorable Mutation Creature might logically appear here…’

Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

A black-haired, red-eyed girl pushed open the door, smiling at Lin Ye from the hallway.

‘Well, damn.’

Lin Ye forced a polite grimace. Unarmed in a non-Station Mission scenario, he awaited death.

Maybe burning all ten simulations wouldn’t be so bad.

Now that Lin Ye had conceptualized her presence, she’d always emerge from that door—even after resets.

“Stop grinning. I smile because I’m beautiful. What’s your excuse?”

Her rude tone paradoxically reassured Lin Ye—communication meant hope.

“You are…?”

Her speech patterns felt eerily familiar.

“A hybrid of your delusions and certain realities. Hence I know things you don’t.”

Her bluntness mirrored Lin Ye’s own.

“Where are we?”

Lin Ye cut to the chase.

“No idea.”

She answered unapologetically.

“How to leave?”

“I could extract you, but should you really go?”

Her loaded response chilled him.

“…Meaning?”

Dread pooled in his stomach.

“You already know. Consciousness experiments study consciousness.”

She pressed her forehead against his chest.

“Targeting me specifically?”

Lin Ye jerked back, scanning for invisible observers.

“You’re cautious but ignorant about D-Class vessels. Behavioral discrepancies from the original host would eventually expose you—especially after the last mission where Dr. Caroline survived. One comparison reveals anomalies.”

Circling him, she locked eyes, her crimson irises radiating frost beneath feigned amusement.

“What should I do?”

Lin Ye sought her counsel.

“Nothing. This is just an experiment—they can’t pinpoint you unless you act. Overdoing anything worsens suspicion. Me ejecting you would be worst—your consciousness would be permanently flagged.

Or…”

She sat cross-legged in a corner, patting the floor beside her.

“Or what?”

Lin Ye joined her.

“Or unleash hell—make them regret provoking you.”