Divine Oracle [Transmigration] (ORACLE)
But upon closer reflection, there were many obvious inconsistencies.
In the novel, "Song Si" and "Liu Cenning" were two people on parallel tracks—aside from secretly collaborating on superpower experiments, they had no personal relationship. Not only was there a 13-year age gap between them, but their philosophies and principles regarding the experiments also differed. Their ultimate goals were worlds apart. They were merely temporary partners for convenience.
Yet from the recent interrogation, at least the following points could be confirmed.
First, "that person" had deep ties with Liu Cenning—most likely a life-saving benefactor, mentor, or long-term lover.
Second, Lu Ling had met that person. She knew their appearance, name, and basic information, even to the point of being hypnotized with a safe word implanted. Yet when she attempted to assassinate Song Si, she showed no special reaction and acted without hesitation.
Third, everything Liu Cenning did was to protect that person. To this end, he went so far as to implant devices in his own brain in advance, groom loyal subordinates, and make exhaustive preparations. Even after being detained by the Special Investigation Bureau, he continued scheming. In contrast, Song Si had narrowly escaped death twice in just a few days. The first attempt succeeded—he had already died once, causing his core to be replaced by another person.
No matter how you looked at it, Song Si didn’t seem like the mastermind.
Thinking back carefully, the novel had handled this part of the plot hastily. Only after the grand finale did it abruptly tack on an extra tens of thousands of words in an epilogue, suddenly revealing Song Si’s identity before serving the entire Third Division their final exits.
He quickly considered three possibilities.
One: Song Si and Liu Cenning were deliberately setting themselves up for a grand escape. Two: His transmigration had altered this world’s logical threads, causing the plot to change. Three: The original story had a larger, unfinished conspiracy—perhaps the author, after the book’s explosive popularity, couldn’t bear to end it and planned a sequel...
"Chief Chu, her vitals are stable. She’s just unconscious."
Xu Xinxin’s voice pulled Song Si back from his thoughts. He looked up to see Lu Ling had lost consciousness. Several colleagues handcuffed her, placed her on a gurney, and quickly wheeled her out of the office area, presumably to medical care.
Only the three of them remained in the office.
Fu Xi was also drenched, his bangs plastered to his forehead as he stood by the water dispenser and gulping down water. After finishing, he moved to grab tissues from the desk to wipe his sweat but staggered on his first step, reaching out to steady himself on an office chair.
Still fixated on the safe word, he muttered, "That person definitely isn’t ordinary—no way they’re a regular person. Their hypnosis skills might be on par with mine... no, probably even stronger. But within the Special Bureau..."
"Your chief," Chu Mingyi suddenly said.
Fu Xi immediately retorted, "Impossible!"
"Alright, Fu Xi, rest first," Chu Mingyi didn’t elaborate. "I’m taking Song Si downstairs for food. Maybe by the time we’re back, the case will have developments neither of us expected. What do you want? I’ll bring something back for you."
Fu Xi ruffled his slightly messy hair, slumped into his office chair, reclined the backrest, and said wearily, "Fine, I guess. I want fried chicken."
"Forget about fried chicken. It's early in the morning. Some porridge would be more appropriate," said Chu-the Fascist-Mingyi. "Song Si, let's go."
Fu Xi's feeble voice trailed after them, "Then why even ask what I want to eat... Xiao Si, you see it now, right? He's just too cruel! I want fried chicken, fried chicken, the freshly fried kind!"
With a "ding," the elevator doors shut, cutting off his desperate plea.
Song Si was still preoccupied with thoughts of Liu Cenning and was somewhat distracted. It took Chu Mingyi calling his name twice before he snapped back to reality, turning to meet a pair of sharp eyes.
Chu Mingyi's eyes were truly extraordinary.
Phoenix eyes with slightly upturned outer corners, clean and sharp lines, distinct lashes, and pupils so dark and clear they seemed to see right through a person. A sudden encounter with them could make even the most law-abiding citizen falter and instinctively reviewing their past misdeeds.
As someone not entirely law-abiding, Song Si nearly blurted out a confession.
He couldn't help but say, "You look good in glasses."
A hint of a smile slowly appeared in those eyes.
Seemingly trying to put Song Si at ease, Chu Mingyi casually struck up a conversation, "I have 20/20 vision. Do you know why I wear glasses for no reason?"
Song Si's attention was piqued. "Why?"
"Back in school, I could take on ten guys single-handedly, ruling the entire middle and high school, strutting around like I owned the place. Then I got into trouble, and my teacher called my parents three days in a row. My brother couldn't take it anymore—warned me to keep a low profile and took me to get a pair of non-prescription glasses, insisting I wear them every day."
"And then?"
Chu Mingyi slung an arm over Song Si's shoulder again. "Then I realized people weren't as scared of me with glasses on. Some bold new underclassmen even dared to give me love letters."
Song Si was impressed. "Your brother's amazing."
Chu Mingyi raised an eyebrow, staring at him.
Song Si paused, then tentatively corrected himself, "Our brother's amazing?"
Chu Mingyi looked like he wanted to smack him.
Song Si edged toward the side of the elevator. Fortunately, the doors opened, and he strode out of the danger zone.
After walking a bit, he felt it wasn't right to leave his colleague behind, so he slowed his pace to walk side by side with Chu Mingyi toward the rundown police station.
Chu Mingyi asked, "Feeling better now?"
"A bit," Song Si nodded. "Fu Xi said he wants to enter my Sea of Consciousness. Who's going to be the supervisor then?"
Chu Mingyi stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Fu Xi supervises, I execute."
Song Si whipped his head around to look at him.
"Fu Xi's strongest ability is hypnosis—he's the most suitable as the executor. You saw that earlier. But right now, you're the only full-time supervisor in the bureau. Since you can't supervise, he'll have to make do. He's not bad at managing emotions either."
Recalling the earlier interrogation, Song Si frowned slightly. "What exactly does the supervisor do?"
"First, the supervisor observes the entire interrogation," Chu Mingyi explained. "Police dispatches require body cameras, and interrogations need recordings. But once we enter the Sea of Consciousness, current technology can't monitor both parties. To mitigate potential legal risks, a third party must be present."
"Secondly, ensure the safety of the executor. Mindscape interrogation is extremely dangerous—in that environment, the executor can easily lose control. The overseer is in a semi-projection state, able to rationally oversee the situation and prevent accidents."
Song Si said, "When Lu Ling's sea of consciousness counterattacked, I didn't do anything, yet the connection suddenly broke."
Chu Mingyi smiled. "You were the one who severed it."
Song Si let out a soft "ah," recalling the scene at the time.
After entering the sea of consciousness, he had been in a peculiar state, similar to when performing therapy, where another "entity" dominated his primary awareness.
When the flames nearly consumed Fu Xi at the end, it felt more like he had "actively woken from a nightmare."
Something had helped him make the right judgment.
Thinking about it now, for some reason, Song Si suddenly craved ice cream—an overwhelming, skin-prickling craving that left him restless if unsatisfied.
He quickened his pace as Chu Mingyi led him out of the police station, detoured to the Special Investigation Bureau building, and entered the self-service restaurant on the first floor.
He didn’t know the exact time. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten, streetlamps still glowing, cars gradually appearing on the roads, and sanitation workers sweeping leaves by the roadside.
The door opened with a chime of wind bells, and a cheerful server greeted them, "Welcome." The restaurant was empty except for the two of them.
Before Song Si could speak, Chu Mingyi said, "First, get him a vanilla ice cream."
"Of course, one moment." The server scooped a cone from the nearby ice cream machine and handed it to Song Si.
Eating ice cream on an empty stomach might upset his stomach.
The thought flickered through his mind before he took a big bite.
Artificial vanilla and saccharin melted on his tongue. He was both deeply moved and shivering from the cold, inhaling sharply.
Chu Mingyi ordered several more dishes, along with a takeaway portion of hot porridge and fried chicken, then sat by the window.
Song Si had already devoured the ice cream in a few bites, even finishing the cone, barely resisting the urge to lick his fingers.
Chu Mingyi pulled out a cigarette but didn’t light it, just held it between his lips to smell. Noticing the cream at the corner of Song Si’s mouth, he said, "Drink something warm, or your stomach will hurt later."
Rubbing his stomach, Song Si decided to take the advice and sipped the warm millet porridge.
Chu Mingyi didn’t eat, just watched him from across the table.
After finishing half the bowl, Song Si looked up and noticed the bloodshot eyes and stubble on the other man’s chin. Something tugged at his heart.
He set down his spoon and asked, "Have you been investigating... for long?" As he spoke, he instinctively glanced toward the counter.
"This place is fine," Chu Mingyi said. "Just avoid sensitive topics."
Song Si nodded.
Chu Mingyi put down the cigarette and took a sip of water. "A long time. A full year, on and off."
He paused briefly, his gaze flickering to Song Si’s right wrist. "This matter—I’ll remember it for you."
Song Si asked, "What if you can’t find anything?"
Chu Mingyi’s brow lifted slightly, as if the question were absurd. With quiet certainty, he replied, "Impossible. Even if I have to dig three feet under the entire Special Investigation Bureau, I’ll find him."
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