Pretending To Be A Boss
Chapter 941 - 78: A Name That Can't Be Written

Six hundred and sixty-four days.

Tang Xian wrote down the name "Primordial Fog."

From this moment on, he could no longer guarantee the logical coherence between fragments of memory. The deeper his connection with someone, the more intertwined the associated memories became.

The brain naturally strives for logical consistency, making memories appear plausible. Yet Tang Xian's current recollections, strained by the loss of too many people, had started to warp and fragment.

But Tang Xian's true descent into hell began here. He had arrived at the innermost core of this realm, only to realize that its vastness eclipsed all imagination.

On this day, he identified six targets.

Only one marker bore the name "Primordial Fog." After writing it down, he stared at the two characters in confusion: Who was this person?

What experiences had he shared with them?

Tang Xian couldn't remember.

The sensation terrified him. He ventured deeper into the ruins, where the sinister machinations of Eden's master gradually came to light.

It was an illusion—but also a passage to the real world, concealing the true form of Eden's master.

Everything here conspired to lure Tang Xian further in.

And deeper in, he discovered it was a trap. A trap designed to irregularly slice his memories into scattered fragments, discarding them piece by piece.

Even so... leveraging the gambler's bias, Eden's master ensnared Tang Xian within its web.

Several times Tang Xian might have considered retreating, but his ultimate choice was to keep exploring. This had nothing to do with whether Tang Xian was a gambler; rather, his resolve was driven by clarity of purpose. He had always been someone who maximized resources. If memory was a resource, he refused to let it be wasted to no avail.

Yet every facet of this mental struggle had been meticulously accounted for by Eden's master.

Tang Xian felt as though he could understand Eden's master—just as Eden's master could equally comprehend Tang Xian.

In this duel, at least, Tang Xian had suffered loss after loss.

Faced with five remaining blank markers, he dared not write down another name.

On this day, Tang Xian chose not to advance further. Instead, he muttered the names he could still use, the remnants of his identity.

He recited them over and over.

When one is trapped in a desperate situation, beyond physical survival resources, the most invaluable possessions are hope and memories of the past.

Hope was fading, little by little.

And his memories were nearly gone.

Six hundred and sixty-six days. Tang Xian wrote down more names.

Akasi, Song Que—both included.

He had only a few names left, and the journey to find Eden's master's true form still seemed impossibly long.

In the land where illusion and reality intertwined, Tang Xian came across a cave.

"Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan…"

In the dim cave, Tang Xian repeated these names over and over again.

Night passed swiftly. Morning light streamed into the cave, illuminating Tang Xian's unkempt, stubble-covered face.

He resembled a prisoner who had languished in a cell for far too long, neglected and disoriented.

His beard had begun to grow; his hair unruly.

Although he existed as a consciousness, in this peculiar domain, everything felt alarmingly real.

Tang Xian stared at the void ahead, motionless for a full two hours. His once-brilliant gaze was now dull and lifeless.

His lips quivered, ever so slightly, mumbling the names faintly audible.

Finally, he stood up.

He could no longer remember much, but he knew deep in his heart that someone waited for him in Baichuan City.

A world, long mutated beyond recognition, awaited his salvation.

His steps grew heavier, slower, yet he continued moving forward, inch by inch.

When memory dwindles and hope dissolves, what allows a person to keep venturing toward their chosen endpoint is sheer willpower.

The sunlight vanished suddenly; the sky thickened with clouds.

After over six hundred days of exploration, Tang Xian had managed to exit Eden's most perilous zone of weather chaos. The primordial beasts conjured by Eden's master's consciousness had also diminished.

But occasionally, as it did today, torrential rains would arrive abruptly.

The mountain road turned to mud. Those shadow-like humans seemed oblivious to the weather, continuing their conversations along the path.

Were they still human? Did they still possess consciousness?

Had Eden's master reshaped humanity into these ambiguous forms where reality and illusion intertwined?

Tang Xian's fear deepened—was his adversary still a traditional biological entity?

This enigmatic being, Eden's master, had already begun influencing reality. How could Tang Xian hope to defeat it?

"Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan, Zhong Yao, Yan Xiaoling, Li Xiaoyu, Tang Jing, Qi Yuan…"

As these questions churned in his mind, he never ceased reciting the names.

Soon, Tang Xian arrived at another marker.

Decision time again. He had to discard another person's memory.

The torment etched itself onto Tang Xian's face, twisted and disoriented. If Li Xiaoyu were here, she would surely embrace him tenderly, heart aching for this devastated man.

Because Tang Xian had never seemed so helpless.

He wrote down the name Tang Jing.

Zhong Yao was still waiting for him; he remembered their promise to take Zhong Yao to meet someone—a relative. But who that person was, Tang Xian no longer remembered.

Yan Xiaoling had always been a patch of purity in his heart, and Li Xiaoyu might be the one who loved him most in this world. Tang Xian refused to let go of any of them.

As for Qi Yuan...

Tang Xian felt nothing but hostility.

In the face of a great enemy, you might forget a comrade—but never your foe. Qi Yuan's existence had permeated Tang Xian's life, spanning the entirety of Pyramid civilization.

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