Around ten o’clock the next day, a lively crowd had gathered before the special action team’s command room, nearly blocking the passage.

“Good morning, Russell.”

“Good morning.” When Zorro arrived at the large room that resembled the president’s office, Yang Zicang and Jiaoma were already present at the entrance.

Another woman in her thirties standing next to Jiaoma greeted Zorro:

“Hello, you must be Zorro, right? I’m Ding Jiaojie, also a member of our team.”

Her entire demeanor exuded a composed aura; her skin was delicate and smooth as if coated with a dreamy glow, which signified her exceptionally high levels of mental power.

Zorro understood—this was likely an original member of Jiaoma’s group and also one of Yang Zicang’s previous office colleagues.

“Everyone’s here, so let’s head in.” Jiaoma smiled as she prepared to lead the way.

A red broken line shot toward them, and Yang Zicang swiftly manifested a replaced member ID card in his hand, connected to the red thread. Across from him stood Wang Dingshan.

{Hey, Old Yang, have you formed your team yet?}

[Don’t you have a team yet?]

{I did originally, but folks in my previous office can’t find other Action Team members. It’s just me as the only Action Team member while the other seven or eight are all from the Spectrum Team. This pace is gonna wear me out.}

A few minutes later, the newcomer, transferring from another group and an Action Department member, joined their team.

Inside the room, clusters of people stood around chatting, while Gong Huanwu sat on a leather chair behind a large solid wood desk, busily filling out stacks of forms. A line of people stood before his desk.

Against one wall, two wooden racks tilted to support a blackboard, which listed over a dozen team names. Among them, Team Jiaojiao was ranked No. 18.

“You really named it just that?”

“What’s so bad about it? It’s just fine, isn’t it?”

Jiaoma responded while writing the team members’ names at the small table beside the blackboard.

The three men behind him coughed lightly, exchanged glances with each other, then turned to look at Ding Jiaojie, who was covering her mouth with a knowing smile. It finally dawned on them that the nickname “Jiaojiao” for the Jiaojiao team meant exactly what it implied.

“I’m going to get the group leader credentials.”

Jiaoma filled in the member information and lined up in front of the wooden desk, waiting to receive from Gong Huanwu the permit that allowed access to frequency-disrupted mental wavebands.

Zorro looked into another room in the building, where a beautiful woman was walking out holding a book titled “Trap Making: From Novice to Expert.”

“Let’s go check out the study room over there—they’re all borrowing materials in that area,” Ding Jiaojie said.

“Alright.”

Just as they were about to squeeze through the crowd, a pleasantly surprised voice rang out.

Qiong An’s eyes lit up at the doorway as she exclaimed:

“Hey, Zicang, Wang Dingshan, you’re here too. If I’d known, we could’ve formed a team together.”

She and Yu Yusheng walked through the crowd, accompanied by a few strangers.

Yang Zicang said, “We already have our team. How many people do you have?”

“Temporarily six, but it’ll probably disperse later.”

“Qiong An!”

The middle-aged man beside her, who was about to greet them, felt a surge of anger.

Qiong An pouted, deliberately throwing a contemptuous sidelong glance at that man, and snorted, “Hmph.”

{Trainees and employees, the complete encyclopedia on mental force field construction theory is here—come borrow a copy!}

{Everyone must read these books quickly and learn from scratch how to build our own Demon-Class Arena. This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity must not be missed!}

In the cramped study.

Looking up, the first thing that caught Yang Zicang’s eye was a book titled “The Principle of the Birth of Telekinetic Fields,” causing his heartbeat to slow for a moment.

However, as his gaze swept across both sides of the book, more spines came into view.

“Basic Concepts and Design Significance of the Demon Hall,” “Popular Arena-Related Statistical Data,” “How to Build Your Own Training Ground,” “Selection and Maintenance of Alternating Scene Layers,” “How to Identify Missing-Frequency Spiritual Wavelengths,” “Basic Exploration Knowledge of Large-Scale Missing-Frequency Telekinetic Fields”… Densely packed, thick books were arranged in order.

Just looking at these names, each one seemed extremely important, but having so many important books lined up together gave rise to a sense of overwhelming frustration at the inability to read them all. The shock caused by the first book Yang Zicang had seen naturally dissipated.

“To do a good job here, mastering these books is essential.”

“But this is way too much and way too rushed. My God, just reading through them would take a year.”

Most people here have never read these books; they are still very far from achieving the level of proficiency within them. The reason they are now qualified to borrow these books is thanks to the “Right of Mental Manifestation.”

“There’s a saying that goes, ‘When you think about it, you start building that toilet.’”

“With so many people around, keep your voice down.”

Zorro pulled out a book titled “A Study on the Conversion Between Architecture and Telekinetic Architecture.”

“Sigh, if it weren’t for this incident, I’d probably only read this book many years from now.”

Ding Jiaojie smiled lightly. “That’s right. We should thank the company for outlining the key points.”

Yang Zicang’s fingers traced across the spine of the book, silently memorizing these names in his mind.

He felt genuinely ashamed.

In previous battles, he seemed quite formidable—adept at fighting and setting fires with equal ease. But compared to the wealth of knowledge contained in these books, he was like a dry, shallow pond, while they held oceans within.

Ding Jiaojie, meanwhile, pulled out a copy of  “Examples of the Dangers in Telekinetic Fields and Self-Suggestion” .

“I’ve heard that some telekineticists, though powerful enough to manifest their psi in reality, have ultimately gone mad. Because the mental foundations they created for themselves unknowingly led their hearts astray, turning them rigid and indifferent, until they lost their humanity.”

“Yeah, it’s a dangerous path.”

“Participating in this special operation—what’s right before me is already a reward.”

Wang Dingshan turned his head: “Zicang, why aren’t you looking?”

“He plans to resign at the end of the year, so he’s afraid to learn too much.”

“Zicang, you… you’re actually thinking about that?”

Wang Dingshan wondered if Yang Zicang had a problem with his head.

Upon hearing this, a handsome man behind them, who was flipping through a book while reading, turned around:

“These books all record matters related to mental power, which indeed are the main abilities used by our Lost Illusion Company. But they don’t contain too much information from the old world.”

“So it should be fine?” Yang Zicang asked.

“That’s just my interpretation. It should be fine.”

Wang Dingshan leaned in:

“Zicang, how about you scratch a Scratch Card to see how your luck is today. If it’s bad, maybe you should drop it.”

Ding Jiaojie looked up at Wang Dingshan, who was whispering.

“Forget it, scratching one will anchor my luck for the whole day again.”

Yang Zicang already knew that whatever result the so-called Scratch Card gave, good or bad, it would lock in the day’s fortune.

Luck that might otherwise fluctuate becomes fixed for the day after one scratch. Unless something special comes up, he had no intention of touching one.

“Wow, my team members are really eager to learn.”

Jiaoma trotted in cheerfully, shaking the group leader credential in front of the four of them.

With it, she could select various scenarios from the Lost Illusion Company’s spectrum library.

“Zicang, you’re still not looking?” Jiaoma asked.

She pulled out a book titled  How to Build Your Own Haven in the Spirit World , a thin pamphlet meant for those who could already reliably visualize scenes in the spirit world.

“I…” Yang Zicang hesitated. Finally, he reached his hand toward  The Origin of Psychokinetic Fields .

But just before he touched it, another soft, pale hand picked it up.

The girl in the beanie cap froze for a moment, then looked over and said, “Sorry, were you going for this book? I’ll let you have it.”

She handed the book to him with both hands.

The young man glanced at the girl with fair skin and a delicate face. Her two dark eyes sparkled like pearls, immediately indicating a person with exceptionally high mental power.

“It’s fine,” Yang Zicang said, shaking the  Primitive Mental Exercise Yoga  book in his hand, politing, “It’s all the same to me.”

The girl nodded firmly, showing a grin as she said:

“Mmhm. Then I’ll take a look at this first. I’ll return it soon.”

……

Subsequently, after reading day and night through the basic materials on “mental power,” “mental force field,” and “Demon Palace construction,” the five members temporarily designed a barely passable combat scene based on the wave-frequency scenarios retrieved.

However, a week passed. After inviting some group members who had not participated in the mission into the mental space, their comments were varied.

“It seems this isn’t a simple matter. We’ll need to make another scene.”

The mountain breeze stirred the thin mist, and the flowers swayed. On the lush green grass, the five sat around a wooden table beside an exquisite little villa.

“Take a break, I’ll show you something.”

Under everyone’s gaze, XuDing Shan’s chest model flickered, darting to his hand and constructing a small house.

“Did you make this yourself? Not bad, not bad! Is this your former home?” Ding Jiaojie asked curiously, looking at the three-bedroom, one-living-room suite.

“Yes, it’s my previous home.” Wang Dingshan pointed to one of the small rooms.

“This is my bedroom. In the living room, there’s an old fridge. I remember as a kid I tagged along with my mom when she drew a lucky chance at a discount lottery and bought it. It ended up serving us for over a decade.”

Listening to him lost in recollection, everyone remained silent. Though reluctant to interrupt, Ding Jiaojie spoke up solemnly,

“Dingshan, even though this is your memory, if you keep it stored in your mental sea for a long time, it may keep your emotions perpetually attached to the past, plunging you into prolonged agony.”

Wang Dingshan forced a weak smile. “It should be fine if I just keep it a few days, right?”

“I hope you’ll erase it soon. The longer it’s stored, the deeper an impression it might leave in your subconscious mind. The spiritual sea is no simple matter; it could even impact your advancement in power.”

Letting out a mournful sigh, Wang Dingshan said, “Alright, enough nagging, Teacher Ding.”

Yang Zicang pondered Ding Jiaojie’s words. Insights that might seem alarmist to an ordinary person were deeply significant to him—he had obtained the “Base Cognition Pattern.” That design precisely anchored one’s mental power in a specific state, nurturing it slowly.

Jiaoma interjected, “I suggest we request some waves of forgetting and consciousness loss again today and try to construct a more challenging venue to hone our skills.”

“Right, it’s got to be way scarier. We were too lenient before.”

In a low voice, Jiaoma whispered, “I just never want to see lives end by our hands.”

She looked very upset. She also somewhat understood why some people had declined the invitation before the meeting, choosing to give up this precious opportunity for training, and why her godmother had agreed so readily. After all, this wasn’t really about creating an amusement park—it was a place where warriors would shed blood on the battlefield.

Zorro looked at Yang Zicang and Wang Dingshan: “What do you think? Should we increase the danger level?”