Chapter 298: Completely Illogical

Did being a transmigrator make one invincible?

Did having a cheat system make one untouchable?

No matter how powerful you are, no matter how strong your cheat was, you’re still human, aren’t you?

The abilities and skills provided to Xiao Yu by the system were all within the limits of what this world could bear. Human potential, as understood. The system merely pushed Xiao Yu’s physical capabilities to the peak of human limits in certain aspects.

As for the skills, most of them originated from the abilities of sentient animals or intelligent beings, still within the boundaries of this world.

And what were those boundaries?

They represent the limits of human knowledge, understanding, and capability.

So, what was the supernatural?

It was the great terror that surpassed human comprehension, breaking through the established boundaries. It was the unfathomable horror that humans could not combat or even understand.

Simply put, if the supernatural were to truly appear, there would be no need for cheats—you’d be dead before you could act.

Why wouldn’t Xiao Yu run? Stay and wait to be sliced up?

Thus, Xiao Yu wanted to verify for himself.

Was this truly a supernatural occurrence?

Or was someone just faking it?

***

In the interrogation room.

The suspect, Fang Shuoxin, sat on the interrogation chair. Although he was labeled a suspect, both National Security and Xiao Yu had largely determined that Fang Shuoxin had not directly participated in the recent chain of incidents.

However, this didn’t mean he was entirely unrelated. Until the case was solved, Fang Shuoxin’s status as a suspect would remain.

Even Fang Shuoxin himself was well aware of this.

“Want a smoke?”

Xiao Yu pulled out a cigarette and offered one to him.

“Sure!”

Fang Shuoxin took the cigarette, and Xiao Yu lit it for him. Fang Shuoxin took a deep drag, glanced at the serial number on the filter, then at Xiao Yu’s cigarette pack, and his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Is this the legendary special supply?”

Xiao Yu almost laughed out loud. “It’s just an internal supply.”

Certain things, due to their rarity or exclusivity, often became shrouded in mystique.

Special supply cigarettes were one of those things. In reality, they were just regular tobacco, no different from ordinary cigarettes. But that didn’t stop people from creating grandiose myths about them.

In novels, things like “Dragon Team” or “certain departments” were often exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

It was amusing, but people loved hearing about such things, their imaginations running wild.

Curiosity about the unknown is a natural human trait.

Just as boys are curious about the anatomy of girls, and vice versa.

Once the mystery is unveiled?

Well, it’s just that—nothing extraordinary.

“So, your novel becoming reality…” Xiao Yu glanced at Fang Shuoxin, who was smoking, and asked, “What’s your take on that?”

“…” Fang Shuoxin’s expression fluctuated between terror, incomprehension, and even excitement.

It was understandable. This kind of situation was inherently difficult to comprehend.

As for the excitement? If you wrote a novel and its events started becoming reality, wouldn’t you also feel thrilled, even as you were terrified?

Seeing Fang Shuoxin’s reaction, Xiao Yu found it entirely reasonable.

“A little excited, but also scared.” Taking another deep drag, Fang Shuoxin’s lips trembled uncontrollably. “But I know it’s definitely a coincidence. There’s no way this is actually happening. If I had that kind of ability, why would I even bother writing novels?”

“Ha!”

This time, Xiao Yu couldn’t help but laugh.

His intelligence was still intact, and his logic seemed sound.

Precisely because of this, Xiao Yu’s smile faded as he stared at Fang Shuoxin.

If his intelligence was fine, and his logic intact, then why were his novels so childish, so absurdly dumbed down, with so many cringe-worthy plots?

Was that normal?

“I’m curious.” Xiao Yu went straight to the point. “Do you use an outline for your writing?”

“No.” Fang Shuoxin shook his head without hesitation. “I just write whatever comes to mind.”

‘Write whatever comes to mind?’

Xiao Yu squinted, his mind racing to analyze and deduce possibilities.

One thought emerged—

What if Fang Shuoxin’s plots were somehow pre-determined?

What if these plots weren’t something he consciously created but were instead drawn from forgotten memories?

Or worse, what if he had experienced them himself?

Perhaps, while writing, his subconscious mind reproduced these preset scenarios?

Another possibility—

Could someone have created a crime blueprint that detailed a series of events to be executed in sequence? And perhaps, by chance, Fang Shuoxin had stumbled upon this blueprint? Thus, when he wrote the novel, the “coincidences” emerged because someone was actively following the blueprint?

Xiao Yu shook his head.

The likelihood of that was far too low.

Even if such a blueprint existed, how could an ordinary, reclusive writer like Fang Shuoxin possibly come across it?

If you were planning illegal activities and wrote out a detailed plan, would you let an outsider see it?

Such a plan would undoubtedly be kept in an extremely secure location.

How could a shut-in like Fang Shuoxin, who rarely left his home, accidentally stumble upon it?

As Xiao Yu was about to dismiss his own hypothesis, Fang Shuoxin spoke again, “Actually, sometimes I find my own plots strange.”

Fang Shuoxin frowned, his voice tinged with confusion.

“When I write these plots, they feel childish, illogical, and utterly cringe-worthy. But for some reason, as I’m typing, it’s like my brain isn’t under my control, as if these thoughts and ideas just pop up. My hands move on their own to type them out. Once they’re written, I feel both that they’re unreasonable, yet oddly reasonable. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Hearing this, Xiao Yu’s eyes sharpened.

Something was off.

Fang Shuoxin’s memory and thought processes had problems.

***

Outside the interrogation room.

Wang Dong handed a new file to Xiao Yu, who was deep in thought. It contained Fang Shuoxin’s past medical records.

“Fang Shuoxin suffered a head injury the year he was adopted by his foster parents?” Xiao Yu’s expression turned strange as he read the file. “When he was six?”

That didn’t make sense. Even if he had been injured at six, he should’ve fully recovered by now. He was 31 years old. How could a memory problem still be connected to an incident from when he was six?

It didn’t add up. It was completely illogical.