Divine Oracle [Transmigration] (ORACLE)
The deployment was complete.
The human form materialized as a faint silhouette in this unfamiliar world.
Chu Mingyi flexed his limbs lightly and quickly realized his hands were still his own, his legs unchanged, even the uniform he hadn’t had time to change out of was identical—right down to the freshly printed business card in his pocket, bearing the same year in the bottom right corner.
A wave of eeriness washed over him.
Everything in the Sea of Consciousness was based on the host’s perception, and for cognition to condense into a clear world, there were generally only three possibilities: first, a recent scene of overwhelming impact; second, an experience repeatedly recalled and pondered; or third, a moment of profound significance during growth that were deeply etched into the subconscious.
After being deployed into the Sea of Consciousness, the Executor would automatically manifest an appropriate image based on the host’s imagination—just as Fu Xi had taken on Liu Cenning’s form when entering Lu Ling’s Sea of Consciousness.
Only then would the host feel safe, accepting the Executor as part of their own consciousness. If any abnormality was detected, this world would react like the body’s immune system, attacking the intruder relentlessly—
Could it be that the subject of Song Si’s Sea of Consciousness was Chu Mingyi himself?
The thought gave him pause, stirring an indescribable emotion.
A distant voice whispered in his ear, as if from another world: “Chief Chu, something’s wrong.”
It was Fu Xi, acting as the Overseer.
Chu Mingyi quickly steadied himself. I know something’s off, he thought.
Even if Song Si had been thinking about him 24/7, it was impossible for the projection to match him down to the last detail—the clothes he was wearing had been changed in the afternoon, the business card in his pocket had been printed the day before yesterday, and Song Si hadn’t even been present. There was no way the image could be this precise.
He grew cautious while scanning his surroundings.
This was… an utterly ordinary yet strikingly real playground, no larger than half a basketball court. The cracked cement ground that were long neglected, bore fissures through which stubborn weeds sprouted. Other buildings loomed around the edges, but they were shrouded in shadows and indistinct—vaguely identifiable as low-rise structures no taller than four stories.
The sky was overcast as thick clouds pressing down overhead. A chilly wind swept across the playground, rustling a lone, withered leaf. Rain seemed imminent; Chu Mingyi could even smell the damp, ominous scent in the air.
At the center of the playground stood three swings—simple constructions of iron poles, chains, and wooden planks. The planks were grimy, the chains rusted, and the joints where the poles met the cement appeared loose, as if the next swing might send them flying.
Seated on the middle swing was a boy that were gently swaying as he watched Chu Mingyi.
One glance was all it took for Chu Mingyi to be certain—this was Song Si as a child, and it was undeniably, unmistakably him, with no trace of fabrication.
Young Song Si hadn’t yet developed the habit of dyeing his hair. His unevenly cropped locks were a sickly yellow, hinting at malnutrition. He looked about thirteen, drowning in ill-fitting hand-me-downs, his frame slight and his delicate features almost girlish. The small scar on his chin was already there, and his thin, single-lidded eyes regarded Chu Mingyi with a cold, languid indifference.
Chu Mingyi walked toward him while studying him intently, trying to connect this version with the present-day Song Si.
Little Song Si waited quietly until Chu Mingyi stopped before him, crouched down, and met his gaze at eye level.
There was no trace of the innocence one would expect at his age on his face, and his frame was far too frail—as if a gust of wind could carry him away.
Chu Mingyi found himself struggling to focus. Unnecessary and useless emotions were spreading, even stirring an impulse to reach out and embrace the boy before him.
In the Sea of Consciousness, this state was tantamount to courting death—perhaps enough for the overseer to forcibly extract him. But it didn’t matter, he reassured himself. This wasn’t an interrogation; they were just here to ask a few questions.
So he spoke: "Want to swing?"
From a distance, Fu Xi’s voice came faintly as a reminder: "Chief Chu, be careful."
Song Si nodded, offering him a smile as his dangling legs swaying slightly in anticipation.
Chu Mingyi couldn’t resist ruffling his hair before stepping behind him and giving a gentle push.
The swing creaked as it began to move. Song Si’s eyes brightened, his bangs blown back by the wind, revealing a smooth forehead marred by a bruise at the temple. Chu Mingyi studied the fresh wound and his overly prominent collarbones before asking softly, "Do you remember who I am?"
The real Song Si had forgotten him entirely.
But the young Song Si in the Sea of Consciousness nodded and clearly uttered his name: "Chu Mingyi."
Not "boss," not "brother-in-law," not even "Yi-ge."
That eerie feeling returned.
How could a Song Si who hadn’t even started university know his name?
Chu Mingyi’s movements gradually slowed. Fu Xi spoke up again: "Something’s off. I’m preparing to extract—"
Chu Mingyi had a hunch. He made a prearranged gesture toward Fu Xi, signaling for a little more time, then stepped back in front of the young Song Si.
The boy tilted his head slightly, displeased, as if he hadn’t had enough fun.
Chu Mingyi smiled at him, pinching his cheek lightly. "Are you Song Si? Or Butterfly?"
"I’m not Butterfly. That thing’s boring," young Song Si said crisply. "I have answers to your questions. Since you’re here, why not ask?"
Fu Xi’s tone shifted—despite years of interrogation experience, this was the first time he’d encountered something like this. "Bad news! The owner of the Sea of Consciousness has identified us! Chief Chu—"
A chill crept up Chu Mingyi’s spine, but an inexplicable intuition told him: This place is safe.
He remained composed, though his voice tightened slightly as he asked, "Who was the person you interrogated that day?"
Fu Xi said, "Preparing extraction. Countdown: three—"
Young Song Si pursed his lips, likely aware they were about to leave. His expression turned cold and indifferent again, his tone impatient as he answered, "Li Yunan."
"What—?" Fu Xi blurted in shock.
Countless thoughts raced through Chu Mingyi’s mind. He stood and took a step back. "Thank you."
But the boy raised a hand, beckoning him. "Come here."
Those three words snapped Fu Xi out of his brief astonishment. "Don’t go near him! Reinitiating extraction—countdown: three, two—"
Chu Mingyi was by no means a novice Executor. He had entered the Sea of Consciousness earlier and had more experience than Fu Xi. He was acutely aware that they were now in the most dangerous situation possible—being recognized as intruders by the world's owner.
Yet, as if bewitched, he found himself walking toward the dangerous young boy before him.
Little Song Si jumped down from the swing and skipped over to Chu Mingyi before standing on tiptoe to wrap his arms around his neck.
Fu Xi broke out in a cold sweat. He had no doubt that this seemingly harmless boy could conjure a hundred ways to kill Chu Mingyi in the next second.
"...Two, one, withdraw!"
Little Song Si leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Chu Mingyi’s cheek.
The connection severed, and they awoke in the bedroom.
The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, the only sound being their ragged breathing. Chu Mingyi sat dazed on the sofa before raising the back of his hand to brush against his right cheek.
Fu Xi had thought the last scene was just an illusion, but seeing Chu Mingyi’s reaction sent a chill down his spine. This was completely beyond his understanding.
Who was that boy? Song Si? His Twin Butterfly?
Despite the owner detecting intruders, they had emerged from the Sea of Consciousness completely unharmed?!
A groan came from the bed as Song Si, his head splitting with pain, opened his eyes and sat up. His movement accidentally tugged at something, and he looked down to find wires connected to electrodes on his temples, leading to a nearby machine.
After a half-minute daze, he remembered—Chu Mingyi was supposed to enter his Sea of Consciousness tonight.
Song Si quickly turned his head and met two pairs of eyes.
Chu Mingyi and Fu Xi had clearly just withdrawn, still wearing the devices. Fu Xi looked like he’d seen a ghost, while Chu Mingyi’s expression was unreadably complex.
One glance at their faces made Song Si’s heart sink. "...Well?"
Fu Xi asked, "You don’t remember?"
Song Si: "? Of course not. If I remembered what happened in the Sea of Consciousness, would you two even be alive right now?"
Fu Xi turned to Chu Mingyi, who stood up, having already schooled his expression back to neutral. He said nothing about what he’d witnessed in the Sea of Consciousness, only speaking in a low voice, "We move now. Arrest Li Yunan tonight."
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