Chapter 31: Jubilation

Elder Ge’s students had saved photographs of his notebooks on their phones. Given that the Elder had passed away, his research legacy was now inherited and managed by the state.

After obtaining consent from his students, technicians retrieved his phone from a secure storage box and copied the contents. Moments later, someone brought a storage device into the conference room and connected it to a display.

Elder Ge’s research was of paramount importance. It was precisely because he might have discovered something that he suffered such a brutal retaliation. This notebook was the key to what he had left behind. After all, the hidden enemy they faced now was impossible to guard against. This form of special corruption was almost incomprehensible; for ages, no one had noticed it, causing artifacts and the culture they carried to gradually wither, trapping historical studies in a long, frozen winter.

If they could uncover the enemy's methods, they could follow the clues. No matter how powerful an organization was, it would struggle to withstand the overwhelming power of the state. At the very least, they could prevent the situation from deteriorating further and buy themselves enough time.

Everything was recorded in Elder Ge’s research notes.

The display responded quickly, immediately showing the pages of the notebook. Xu Chen frowned the moment he saw them, and everyone else in the conference room who could see the screen wore the same expression.

The handwriting on the pages looked less like words and more like drawings. Xu Chen remembered drawing something similar himself. Back in middle school, bored in class, he had bought a new pen and notebook. He would draw circles—dense, overlapping, and of varying sizes—along the horizontal lines of the page. Even though he didn't know why, drawing those circles, while tedious, was strangely stress-relieving. He had filled two whole pages just to satisfy the urge.

Could Elder Ge have been that childish?

The person operating the device looked at the screen and clicked to the next page. It was still filled with those same circles. It seemed that Elder Ge’s student, out of respect for his teacher’s reputation, hadn't dared to call it scribbling, only describing it as "a bit unclear."

"This is Elder Ge’s notebook?"

"Yes, this is my teacher’s notebook."

The operator, refusing to believe it, flipped through the pages continuously. They were all filled with dense, suffocating circles—enough to make anyone with trypophobia recoil.

"Why is it written like this? Is it some secret script invented by your teacher, like a doctor’s shorthand?"

"No, Elder Ge’s calligraphy was beautiful. As for why his notes look like this... I have no idea."

"I remember you’re from the Criminal Investigation Division; you should have some expertise in cryptography and graphology, right? Can you make sense of this?"

"I am the best in our division when it comes to graphology. Aside from comparing handwriting, I’ve studied the field extensively. But, to be honest... what Elder Ge wrote here has nothing to do with conventional scripts."

"What do you mean?"

The investigator gave a wry smile and spread his hands helplessly. "Elder Ge’s writing lacks structure, depth, or consistent pressure. The traces are erratic. Even if you let an infant hold a pen and scribble, it wouldn’t look like this. This doesn’t look like a record of anything."

"Could something be hidden in it?"

"I would suggest using other methods. Elder Ge might have used invisible ink or chemical reagents, but he wouldn't have recorded information in such messy, visible traces."

"Why?"

"This was his personal notebook. The research contained a massive amount of information. If these circles were a code, the effort required just to distinguish them would be immense. If he had to constantly cross-reference and decode them, most of his time would be wasted on that alone."

"Then, what do you think Elder Ge was doing by drawing these circles?"

"I don't know."

"Send it to the technical team. Have them analyze it and report back as soon as there’s news."

"Understood!"

With no progress made on the notebook, everyone in the room turned their attention back to Xu Chen.

"We will continue to follow this lead, but let’s return to the main topic: your situation."

Xu Chen nodded.

"I’ve given you all the information I have. I trust you aren't completely in the dark anymore. You just need to tell us: what exactly was Elder Ge trying to communicate to you?"

Xu Chen recalled Elder Ge’s words, feeling a sense of hesitation. He had indeed deduced a direction from the Elder’s final sentence, because it was a term originating from the Cthulhu Mythos.

Indescribable, unspeakable, unviewable—it pointed to the Great Old Ones and extraterrestrial entities of the Cthulhu system, whose appearances, characteristics, and essence far exceeded the limits of human imagination and comprehension.

But Xu Chen found it hard to explain. Why did Elder Ge say these things? Was it a reference to something specific? A description of some phenomenon? Did it really point to what he imagined—that creation, that mystery? Or was it merely the delirium of a dying man?

In his final moments, was he immersed in the horrific fantasies he had woven, catching a glimpse of something vast, mutated, twisted, polyhedral, or possessing an irregular form?

Xu Chen steadied himself and spoke the name he had perceived: "Cthulhu..."

An indescribable horror descended in an instant. He immediately stiffened, his muscles locking up. He felt the gaze of an apex predator flash past, seemingly accompanied by a murmuring sound, right above his head! Right there in the starry sky above!

The "fight-or-flight" response is not the only reaction humans have to crisis; there is also the "fight-flight-freeze" response. Some animals, when encountering a powerful and insurmountable predator, trigger a "playing dead" effect—either to evade notice or to avoid attracting the predator's attention. Though humans are now at the top of the food chain, this reaction is rarely triggered.

That massive consciousness swept over him. Its thoughts were vast and divergent. Even though Xu Chen did not want to touch any part of it, a fragment burrowed into his mind.

*Delicious... breeding... moderation... harvest... reward...*

Suddenly, Xu Chen felt an inexplicable, extreme sense of joy. It was as if he had encountered something deeply gratifying—the feeling of receiving his first paycheck, buying his first home, achieving his first major success... all of these emotions converged into one.

Then, he noticed that while his spirit felt ecstatic and relaxed, his body remained rigid, as if facing a mortal threat. This extreme dissonance caused Xu Chen immense distress, as if his brain had been split into two parts.

*Spread... spread... spread...*

That thought persisted, and every time it appeared, it brought with it that feeling of extreme joy. It was signaling something, or perhaps guiding him.

After resisting for a moment, Xu Chen suddenly understood what Elder Ge had encountered. The "extreme joy" he spoke of was...

Xu Chen wanted to look up at the sky. Although there was a ceiling above the conference room, he had a feeling that if he looked up, he would definitely see something.

As his gaze lifted, the stars seemed to fall into his vision. He knew clearly that it was daytime and that the starry sky should not be visible to the naked eye, yet he felt that this brilliant expanse was so beautiful that he simply had to look.

Finally, the moment he looked up, his tensed muscles suddenly spasmed in pain. He let out a loud shout, instinctively stood up, and squeezed his eyes shut just as he stared directly at the consciousness.

The feeling of joy stopped abruptly. Everything fell into silence.