The chaotic screech and dissonant hum from the art class, like ice needles driven deep into bone marrow, still resonated within Chen Mo’s auditory canals. Zhang Hui’s soul-drained pallor within the metal cowl, the technician’s abrupt paralysis followed by foaming convulsions, the students’ erupting chain-reaction screams and collisions—these visceral fragments spun violently in his mind, each flashback jabbing his nerve endings like repeated pinpricks.
Deeper still was the chill emanating from Li Enci. When the cold “Tranquility Platform” spiraled into chaos and the technician collapsed, Chen Mo had distinctly glimpsed, beneath her perpetually frozen gaze, a fissure of shock and fury—and… disbelief? Terror? As if the runaway entity wasn’t merely her vaunted “teaching aid,” but somethin
