Return Countdown: 47:59:57.
Return Countdown: 47:59:56.
Did he just... travel through time and space?
So, the end of the countdown meant crossing into another world. And now, this "return countdown" indicated how long he had before going back.
Realizing this, Qing Chen felt a wave of relief. Being able to return was a good thing.
Although there might not be many people waiting for him back home—his mother had moved on with her new life, and his father… well, he was probably still in a detention center.
So, Qing Chen likely wasn't on his mind either.
But even so, he still wanted to go back—just to see it all one more time.
Now, it was time to take a good look at this "new world."
The moment the world reassembled itself, Qing Chen noticed the prison uniform he was wearing and instantly understood his situation.
He was in a dim, gray cell. Aside from an alloy gate with an advanced, futuristic design, the rest of the room was completely enclosed by walls.
It was a solitary cell, containing only a bed with a blanket and a thin sheet, a shelf with a toothbrush, and towel. Otherwise, it was empty.
The walls were gray, but what puzzled Qing Chen was that, under the faint external light, they emitted a metallic sheen.
Metal walls?
Qing Chen sat up and ran his fingers over the surface. What kind of place would use such an expensive, impractical material for construction?
Clearly, this was no longer the world he once knew.
He quickly looked down at his hands. The boning knife was gone, but the fingerprints, and even the pores on his palms, were identical to his own.
This was his own body.
Qing Chen hugged his knees and sat on the bed, staring at the thick alloy door, lost in thought.
Then, a commotion started outside. Someone in the neighboring cell was pounding on the alloy door.
Qing Chen cautiously approached the door, pressing his ear against it, trying to listen to what was being shouted outside. Before he could make anything out, the alloy door hissed with the sound of pneumatic pressure and opened.
He looked outside. The door opened to a square-shaped corridor.
The prison fortress was seven stories tall, each level densely packed with rows upon rows of identical cells.
The newly opened alloy doors revealed dimly lit cells, each one like a cage holding a beast inside.
Qing Chen remained in his cell, standing just at the threshold. It felt like stepping outside would lead him into an entirely unknown future.
Suddenly, a broadcast crackled to life, the voice of a woman—pleasant yet commanding, resonated through the massive prison structure: "7:00 AM. Breakfast time. All inmates, please line up and proceed to the dining hall."
The voice echoed through the fortress, but Qing Chen continued staring at the doorway.
Somehow, he knew that if he stepped out now, everything in his life would change.
In truth, he felt that it had already changed at some point.
When had it started?
Probably… when he thought he only had two and a half hours left to live and decided to do what he had always wanted to, but never dared.
He had even reported his own father. What was left to fear?
Qing Chen stepped out of his cell.
And then, he froze.
The narrow corridor outside was filled with inmates standing at their cell doors. An old man hunched over, staring at Qing Chen. His right eye replaced by a mechanical one that glowed faintly red. The entire right side of his eye socket was constructed from metal, extending all the way to his temple. The eye didn't look particularly refined—rather crude, even, and its lens constantly adjusted its focus, scanning the world around it.
It seemed… the man was analyzing Qing Chen's every detail, much like how Qing Chen used his memory to dissect others.
A burly middle-aged inmate stood nearby, his right arm entirely mechanical. As he flexed his fingers, Qing Chen could hear the metallic whirring of gears in motion.
The thick metal arm looked like coiled steel muscles, powerful and menacing.
Looking around, Qing Chen noticed something shocking.
In this prison fortress, nearly half the inmates had mechanical limbs.
A mechanical civilization?
The words popped into Qing Chen's mind.
Before he could think further, the burly prisoner from the neighboring cell grinned at him: "Hey, newbie, don't eat too much for breakfast. It'll look ugly when you throw it back up."
The moment he finished speaking, the hallway erupted in laughter. "I heard twelve new guys arrived last night. Looks like we'll have some fun today."
"This kid doesn't have any mechanical parts at all. Seems like he's got no connections on the outside."
When Qing Chen heard "newbie," he was momentarily startled, thinking they somehow knew he had just crossed over from Earth.
But he quickly realized that "newbie" simply meant a new inmate, not his Earth origins.
Still, Qing Chen frowned, analyzing the situation. Judging from their tone, this idea of "fun" most likely meant trouble for him.
Suppressing his growing anxiety and fear bubbling inside, he forced himself to remain calm. As an ordinary high school student thrust into this sudden, brutal situation, there was only one thing Qing Chen could do: not show any weakness.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out on the fourth floor. A young man was screaming, "What the hell is this place?! I want to go home! I don't belong in this shithole! Who the hell are you people?! I'm Huang Jixian! My father is the chairman of Yongli Group in Luocheng! Stay away from me!"
Screaming, the boy started sprinting wildly down the corridor.
The other inmates didn't move, watching the scene unfold like it was a show, still maintaining their formation.
Someone muttered, "Where even is this Luocheng?"
Suddenly, a buzzing sound filled the air. Qing Chen looked up and saw four drone-like devices, shaped like water droplets, detach from the ceiling and descend.
And there—embedded in the towering ceiling—Qing Chen saw eighteen Gatling-like metal storm turrets, all hanging upside down in perfect formation.
As the panicked young man ran, nine of those turrets started rotating.
"Please cease movement," the drones announced in a female voice. "Final warning: Cease movement immediately."
A broadcast followed: "All inmates, remain in place."
Within seconds, the four drones completely cornered the boy, their weapons locked onto him.
Simultaneously, mechanical hatches rumbled open below, and nine black-clad combat robots surged forward, their rifles raised, marching toward the scene.
The young man collapsed in terror, while Qing Chen watched coldly.
The boy's outburst had been reckless, and the system's response was extreme—brutal, even. But it gave Qing Chen valuable information.
Machine guns, drones, robots, mechanical limbs—countless details flooded his mind.
Yet what shocked him the most was not the technology. It was a sudden realization.
He wasn't the only one from Earth who had come here.
He was not the first. And he likely wouldn't be the last.