Chapter 9: The Price

"Enough, stop agonizing over it!" Quinna brushed off Hill's remark. "We can't let such talent go to waste. Let's test the child's mental capacity!"

Jingyi nodded.

The surface of the instrument shimmered with an eerie green glow, vaguely outlining patterns that resembled a circuit board.

"Perfect. This is our newly developed instrument for detecting the upper limit of mental capacity. You just need to hold it—you only need to hold it and refrain from any resistance."

Xingyu reached out and gripped the device.

For some reason, she did not feel the coldness she expected when she touched it; instead, there was a strange, subtle warmth.

But the moment her mental energy resonated violently with Jingyi’s, Xingyu suddenly felt the world spin.

Her entire vitality seemed to be drained by the instrument, flowing through it toward Jingyi. The sensation was agonizing, making her want to pull her hand away instinctively.

"Hold tight, do not resist. Let go only when I tell you to," Jingyi emphasized once more.

"Mmph..." Xingyu gritted her teeth. She hadn't been holding it for long before she felt her consciousness rapidly sinking. Every limb and fiber of her being screamed in discomfort, nearly overwhelming her, yet she was powerless to fight back.

With a splitting headache and limbs turned to jelly, she could barely stand. Hill was quick-witted enough to support her back, keeping her from collapsing to the ground.

Xingyu clenched her jaw, sweat dripping from her forehead, yet her body swayed uncontrollably.

She could feel her mental energy being drained dry—a low, constant humming echoed in her ears, and she felt as if she were suffocating.

Yet, Jingyi still hadn't called for a stop.

How much longer must she endure?

Xingyu struggled to remain conscious.

Her face was as pale as paper, and the knuckles she used to grip the device turned an unnatural, ghostly white. She could hear Hill, who was supporting her, saying something to Quinna, but she couldn't make out a single word.

"Xingyu!"

With Hill's cry of alarm, Xingyu could hold on no longer and lost consciousness.

The instrument vibrated slightly and shut off automatically.

Jingyi took the device back, his expression grave as he examined the readings.

...

Once again, she entered that vast expanse of pure white mist.

The world seemed draped in a white veil. She could see her physical body sitting on the bench, eyes tightly shut, her head resting on Hill's arm.

Her body and consciousness seemed to have separated. Xingyu could only stand there, watching her own form.

She wanted to reach out and touch it, but found she couldn't make a single movement, as if she were a frozen statue.

Quinna was leaning against Hill, the two of them chatting idly. Jingyi stood not far away, gazing up at the sky.

"I know. I received that letter today," Hill’s languid voice drifted into Xingyu's ears.

She carelessly lit a long, silver-gray cigarette and took a light drag, then frowned. "This stuff has a really strange taste."

Quinna’s expression was rarely furrowed: "The courier is likely dead. But we’ve sent people to search the whole way and haven't found his body."

Hill stared at the rising smoke in her hand, her tone indifferent. "The letter wasn't opened, and I have no interest in investigating. Probably just some greedy fool."

Xingyu stood right in front of them.

She could clearly capture every subtle shift in their expressions; she could even count Hill's eyelashes.

Yet, she was like an invisible phantom, unable to interact with anything before her.

"Did you see the final mission?"

"I know. No need to write such things in a letter next time. It’s just killing 'acquired transcendents,' isn't it? You could have just told me to my face."

After a moment of silence, Hill spoke again.

"...Come to think of it, do such people really exist? Is it possible for this to be anything other than innate?"

Quinna shook her head: "Not sure. We only just received the Council's request. If we discover an acquired transcendent, execute them on the spot—it’s as simple as that."

These words struck like a thunderbolt, exploding in Xingyu's ears and instantly plunging her into an icy abyss.

There was no doubt.

She was that very thing—an "acquired transcendent."

She instinctively wanted to take a step back, to flee this suffocating space.

However, her feet felt rooted, firmly pinned to the ground, unable to move.

The entire sea of mist seemed to echo with an ancient and mysterious voice, low and powerful, as if calling from the dawn of time.

The sound seemed to traverse endless space and time, carrying a bone-chilling aura that lingered in Xingyu's mind.

[The price.]

The word struck like lightning, piercing Xingyu's heart.

With this voice, her left arm began to change rapidly.

Starting from her fingertips, a pure white, ceramic-like texture emerged, spreading up along the lines of her skin like some ancient, malevolent curse.

In an instant, her entire arm took on the eerie texture of a marble statue, as if it no longer belonged to a human body.

This transformation filled her with intense nausea and repulsion.

She instinctively wanted to scream, but a wave of intense dizziness struck her like a massive whirlpool, ruthlessly dragging her consciousness into the deeper fog.

Xingyu opened her eyes, and her vision gradually cleared. Hill had one arm around her shoulders, her other hand supporting her back.

Dusk was fading, the sky nearly pitch black, yet the remaining glimmers of light still stung her eyes.

She had returned to the real world, but her heart was filled with an indescribable fear and unease.

The moment she opened her eyes, she subconsciously placed her right hand over her left, digging her nails deep into the back of her hand, feeling a sharp sting.

She looked down and saw that she had pinched a wound into her flesh, but no blood appeared as expected.

Inside the wound, there was no blood at all, only a deathly, pale white.

A chill ran through her.

This was "the price."

It was a reminder to be wary of Hill and the Arbiters.

She would have preferred to never have received that small hint—but even so, she had paid a heavy price, losing a part of her humanity.

And in this moment, she finally had to face the truth—

The transformation had begun; she was indeed becoming a monster, just like 087.

"Let's not talk about that. The kid is awake, see how she's doing." Quinna was the first to notice the change.

Hill clicked her tongue impatiently, her tone full of dissatisfaction. She extinguished her cigarette: "If it weren't for your unreliable instrument, she wouldn't have been out for so long."

Quinna didn't mind Hill's complaining, her tone devoid of any apology: "This is the only way to determine the mental capacity limit right now, you know? Besides this latest instrument, who else could know their exact mental energy score?"

Jingyi added: "Her ability shows great potential; we only conducted this test because we have high hopes for her. This is something only those promoted to Senior Agents are qualified to do."

However, at this moment, Xingyu’s thoughts were not on their conversation at all. The fragments she had accidentally overheard created an unsettling connection to her own situation.

The warning from the mysterious voice, the mutation of her left arm, and the true identities of Hill and the Arbiters were all like unsolved mysteries, swirling endlessly in her mind.

Xingyu took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

She had to organize her emotions quickly, lest these Arbiters detect anything amiss. Any sign of abnormality could expose her secret and put her in danger.

"How were my test results?" she asked, feigning composure, trying to keep her voice as calm and natural as possible.

"Ah, Xingyu, you're awake!" Hill patted her back soothingly, but the gesture made Xingyu feel a subtle discomfort.

"Are you feeling better now?" Quinna leaned in to ask. "Jingyi just fed some mental energy back into you through the device. How do you feel?"

"Quite well," Xingyu managed a strained smile, trying to make her answer sound sincere.

However, one thing was true. Compared to before, her physical state was indeed much better.

Although she had fainted, she felt no discomfort now, not even the brain-numbing exhaustion caused by the passive activation of [Information Reading] earlier that morning.

"Jingyi, make a note! Mental energy feedback successful!" Quinna winked at Jingyi, her tone laced with playfulness.

Jingyi nodded, seemingly the only one who remembered Xingyu's question: "Xingyu. Your [Information Reading] ability is unlike any other transcendent with similar powers that we have encountered before."