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It was okay. He was still fine.

The injuries on the back of his hand were sc.r.a.ped and b.u.mped, mixed with sand and gravel, causing pain that felt like his brain was on fire. But the stronger this pain, the more comforting it was—it meant that he, the one who had activated [Pocket Dimension Setting], was still alright, not drawn into the pocket dimension.

He turned his head to glance at the consular officer not far away.

The sound of the clapperboard snapping shut seemed to have frozen the consular officer. He looked as if he were overly shocked, not even paying attention to Wu Yiliu’s frantic escape. Now he was kneeling on the ground, his upper body upright, staring at the dark, round lens in front of him, as if he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Other than the consular officer being stunned, everything else was just as it had been a moment before.

Wait, it didn’t fail to activate, did it?

Wu Yiliu hadn’t been able to complete his description of the pocket dimension content earlier and had to seize the opportunity to activate [Pocket Dimension Setting]. Plus, the time was too tight, and the part he had managed to utter was somewhat unclear and ambiguous—if the listener were human, several different interpretations and misunderstandings could arise.

So, whether this Special Item had truly activated, and whether it had done so as he had imagined, was still unknown.

Wu Yiliu wanted to run but didn’t know if he should, wanted to stay but didn’t dare to, and stood frozen on the spot, unsure of what to do. After some thought, he decided he needed to put some distance between them first. He took a deep breath, slowly got up, took two steps back, his eyes fixed on the consular officer.

With this movement, the consular officer seemed to snap back to reality, turning his eyes towards him.

“You… the pocket dimension you set,” he croaked. “What exactly is it?”

Wu Yiliu swallowed his dry throat and took two more steps back. The consular officer’s demeanor didn’t look like he was waiting for an answer, but rather as if he already knew it, waiting for him to deny it.

“Speak,” the consular officer said softly, slowly getting up from the ground.

His movement in getting up was very careful and slow, as if afraid that with even a slightly larger movement, his limbs or head would roll off.

Wu Yiliu suddenly had a feeling, unfounded but so strong that it took his breath away. The [Pocket Dimension Setting], this Special Item, might have activated just as he had imagined.

Could it read the thoughts of the one activating it?

In that case, the original fake pocket dimension content was especially simple, simple enough to be summed up in one sentence.

The consular officer stood upright, asking almost blankly, “What am I now?”

As their eyes met, Wu Yiliu couldn’t help but s.h.i.+ver slightly.

“I think you’re still a posthuman,” he answered cautiously, staring at the consular officer. “At the same time, you’re also a pocket dimension. An individual who is the pocket dimension itself.”

“Oh?” The consular officer slowly tilted his head, looking at him. “I see.”

This was Wu Yiliu’s design—[Pocket Dimension Setting] required pre-arrangement of the location and content. Changelings even created a fake pocket dimension to turn it into a real pocket dimension. But in his haste, he couldn’t have possibly prepared anything. The only way was to use what was at hand, directly treating a person as pocket dimension material.

When the [Pocket Dimension Setting] was activated, according to his idea, the posthuman covered by the camera lens would turn into a pocket dimension, and the content of the pocket dimension would be a small apocalyptic scene produced based on the posthuman’s characteristics.

To give an a.n.a.logy, if the posthuman is likened to a frayed electrical wire, then the pocket dimension created by the Special Item is like splas.h.i.+ng a puddle of water next to him. Anyone who walks into this puddle would be electrocuted—simply put, [Pocket Dimension Setting] turned the posthuman into a mini-apocalypse generator.

Weren’t the Changelings in this world doing everything they could to suppress the power of the apocalyptic world? Well, he would just add a few more apocalypses and see if the Changelings could still keep them under control.

At that time, Wu Yiliu didn’t have a chance to think deeper about what posthumans would be like after turning into a mini-apocalypse generator, or how they would be affected. Honestly, it was beyond his imagination.

Now he knows that the posthuman itself seems unchanged, at least on the outside.

However, where is the apocalyptic pocket dimension that should have been produced? What is it like, how big is it—and more importantly, should he run now?

He wants to evolve, and it seems he should actively walk into the apocalypse, even if it’s just the “mini doomsday” generated by an individual posthuman. But he knows that now is not a good time to be swept into the pocket dimension created by the consular officer. There are too many unknowns, and he still had to save Professor Qiao.

The consular officer stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly guessing his thoughts, and suddenly laughed without any humor. His face quivered, turning a shade of pale white.

“You may not even realize it yourself,” he said in a low voice, sounding bitter and self-mocking, “this pocket dimension’s design pairs so well with my ability.”

Wu Yiliu indeed hadn’t realized the connection between the two just now.

“Can I still walk now that I’ve become a pocket dimension? Can I still teleport? Anyway, I… I must try,” the consular officer murmured almost to himself. “Of course, you’re just an ordinary person; you don’t understand anything. You probably don’t even know what you’ve done… but one thing is clear to me.”

Wu Yiliu’s mind was already sounding alarms, and while listening to him talk, he slowly backed away. If the consular officer decided to catch him, it would be hard for him, as an ordinary person, to escape. “What?” he asked, trying to delay as much as possible by talking.

“My ability is still there,” the consular officer said softly, his cheek muscles twitching as he stared intently at Wu Yiliu. “I can still issue visas.”

Before the words had completely left his mouth, he flicked his hand, and a piece of paper appeared between his fingers.

What was that? Was that a visa?

“Oh, it’s the Wilderness Forest,” the consular officer said, glancing down at it. Then, he looked up to find Wu Yiliu had backed away several more steps, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “You do have keen instincts. Don’t worry, although this world is only a C-level, it’s enough to deal with an ordinary person like you.”

Wu Yiliu didn’t dare to hesitate any longer. He was initially concerned that turning his back to run might expose him to danger, but at this moment he was unwilling to delay any further, turning to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

The visa behind him was thrown towards him with a slicing sound, chasing after him in a straight line. Wu Yiliu stumbled and ran as fast as he could, his lungs burning, his heavy panting almost drowning out the sound of the paper cutting through the air. Among his own footsteps and breathing, he knew he couldn’t dodge it, and suddenly yelled, “He’s here!”

After shouting these four words, Wu Yiliu felt something coming behind his head. He knew he couldn’t dodge it, and immediately threw himself forward, falling straight to the ground. He then rolled to the side, yelling, “The person who activated the pocket dimension item is right here!”

The consular officer had said earlier that a camera was online, which meant that at least one posthuman was rus.h.i.+ng towards this place. After all, he was only moving at the speed of an ordinary person and hadn’t managed to lead the consular officer very far away. If that person was already nearby, perhaps his shout could still be heard.

But, as if it were inevitable, the visa card landed beside him first.

At the moment the card hit the ground, even without any flash or sound, it seemed like he saw a ripple-like glow, centered on the visa, and burst open with a tremendous flow of air, rapidly spreading all around. It felt like he had been struck by some invisible force; Wu Yiliu’s next words, which he was about to yell, were forced back into his throat.

By the time he reacted, the scenery around him had completely changed.

Without even blinking an eye, as if in the blink of an eye, lush towering trees had filled every corner of his vision. The forest was densely packed with giant ferns filling the s.p.a.ces between the trees, thick moss and rotting leaves covering the damp, narrow forest floor. Moss covered everything, the rocks, the trunks, the fallen branches – it was everywhere. Wu Yiliu hastily tried to push himself up off the ground but slipped and fell back down with a “thud.”

It was too late; he had been caught inside the small apocalyptic pocket dimension created by the consular officer.

He didn’t know whether the consular officer had any control over his own pocket dimension or if the apocalyptic pocket dimension was just a small part copied and pasted from a real apocalyptic world. His original concept had only the latter; of course, he would not intentionally give posthumans the power to determine fate. But he hadn’t had time to impose any limitations before activating [Pocket Dimension Setting].

Although Wu Yiliu knew that his most pressing task was to leave this place and find Professor Qiao, he couldn’t resist his amazement and sat in place, stunned for quite some time.

So, this is what an apocalyptic world looks like. Will he evolve? How long does he have to sit here before evolution begins?

“Was that you who just shouted?” came a voice from the dense wilderness, startling Wu Yiliu. He scrambled to his feet and looked in the direction of the voice but could not see the speaker.

“Where is the one who activated the pocket dimension item? Is this some kind of field he released?” the male voice asked. “Why does it look so much like… an apocalyptic world?”

“You… you came in?” Wu Yiliu stammered.

The male posthuman who had just arrived did not answer this question, only muttering to himself, “How is it so similar to an apocalyptic world?”

Wu Yiliu couldn’t help but hold his breath.

In his concept of “individual as a pocket dimension,” the mini doomsday generator was a contagious phenomenon. The consular officer was like patient zero, and when other posthumans approached the doomsday pocket dimension he created, that posthuman would uncontrollably begin to generate a pocket dimension.

He was waiting for the appearance of the second doomsday in this world.