Chapter 15: The Guards
Feeling the fear gradually rising in his heart, Zhang Wenda’s face slowly revealed a trace of joy.
This proved he had come to the right place—this was the brain of the Youth Center!
Fear also meant that the enemy’s weakness was this same fear!
He looked at the triangular chunk of flesh before him and said, “Are you afraid? Do you realize you’re going to die? You must die—you have to die for us to live.”
At this moment, that fear began to intensify, and the surrounding flesh walls seemed to tremble in terror.
The fear was so strong that Zhang Wenda almost froze in place with fright.
But now that he’d come this far, there was no reason to stop.
Zhang Wenda gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and slammed them repeatedly against his own head.
He endured the strange emotions and walked step by step toward that brain, looked at the flesh chunk before him, exhaled deeply, and said, “Either you die, or we do. My life is just beginning—I absolutely refuse to die here.”
Finishing his words, Zhang Wenda grabbed a spike and pushed it in without hesitation.
The next moment, as more fluid spurted from the transparent flesh chunk, the pain of his entire skull tearing made him release his grip uncontrollably and fall to the ground.
It hurt—too much. Zhang Wenda had expected pain, but not this much.
Just as he bit his teeth and tried to stand again, a loud “bang” rang out, followed by a tremendous force that sent him flying, slamming heavily into the wall.
If the wall hadn’t been made of flesh, Zhang Wenda’s bones would’ve surely snapped in many places.
Using the wall for support, he staggered to his feet and saw between himself and the triangular flesh chunk a hazy, translucent membrane adorned with black go pieces that had centipede-like legs.
Clearly, these were the guards of the Youth Center’s brain, though Zhang Wenda scarcely knew how they’d done it.
Another powerful blow came and sent him flying again.
As Zhang Wenda was repeatedly attacked, a small black dot entered through a crack in the wall—it was the black cat, holding a fragment of a paper with Old Man Ding.
The cat lowered the paper to the ground, then raised its two paws and, as if kneading milk, gently pressed, embedding the fragment into the flesh and blood.
In the next moment, the cold floor began to return, replaced by black-and-white tile, covering the entire floor, and the whole heart chamber transformed into a classroom.
Zhang Wenda finally saw his enemies clearly: a plaster bust, a globe, and a wooden triangular ruler used by math teachers.
Seeing their other forms only angered Zhang Wenda more. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
Spitting out blood-tinged saliva, Zhang Wenda gripped his flashlight firmly and lunged without hesitation, engaging the globe, ruler, and bust in fierce combat.
They closed in rapidly, and the globe struck first, its heavy sphere humming as it ripped through the air and smashed into Zhang Wenda’s waist.
With a sudden sidestep, Zhang Wenda slipped along the newly appeared cold blackboard; the globe brushed his clothes and crashed into a nearby lectern.
Before he could catch his breath, he felt something cut through the air above him.
He looked up sharply—it was the giant wooden triangular ruler!
It slashed down vertically, its sharp wooden edge aimed at his crown!
Its attack was precise and merciless, like a mathematical formula meant to drive arcane math knowledge into his brain!
“Clang—!”
Zhang Wenda’s forearm glowed faintly red as the wooden ruler violently collided with his flashlight, a piercing crack resounding, sparks flying!
The massive recoil caused the web of his hand to burst, blood pouring, and his only good hand went numb.
But the force worked to his advantage—the triangular ruler was struck away.
With one enemy down, Zhang Wenda seized the moment while the globe was repositioning awkwardly.
He ducked to avoid a plaster punch and slid across the cold tile floor to the globe’s lower-left.
Seeing the opportunity, he swung the flashlight handle with full force at the globe’s metal axle!
The red glow flared again. “Clang—crack!”
A horrible metallic fracture rang out! The globe emitted a shrill moan, its bronze shell dented, meridians twisted—they rolled like a dead earth.
With another foe gone, Zhang Wenda’s pressure dropped. He dodged another ruler strike, roared, and charged the plaster bust.
His forearm’s glow was nearly gone, but he ignored the pain and focused all his strength into his arm—hundreds of pounds of force centered in one strike.
The blow was heavy and solid; the plaster shattered under the weight of the metal flashlight, and the bust collapsed.
Zhang Wenda was battered and bloodied, but with two enemies defeated, the battle was effectively won.
When the ruler came at him again, he seized the chance during the dodge, grabbed it with one hand, forming a right angle, then stomped hard.
Several stomps later, the ruler’s handle and a large chunk of wood snapped off. It emitted a sharp hum, the remaining ruler vibrated violently, losing control, and jutted into the floor at an angle.
Zhang Wenda panted heavily, his body stained with sweat and blood. His left arm throbbed in pain, and his right hand’s burst wound burned fiercely.
Though wounded further, he had emerged victorious.
He glanced at the corner: the black cat was still tirelessly kneading at Old Man Ding’s paper. Each small paw press seemed to embed more “reality” into this space, resisting the corruption of flesh and blood.
Only then did Zhang Wenda realize the truth: the rabbit had used Old Man Ding from this guidebook to transform these underground creatures into the Youth Center.
No wonder they had to issue the guide first, then lift the curtain.
“Old Man Ding Takes You Through the Youth Center”—only with Old Man Ding could one navigate the Youth Center. Without him, there was no Youth Center.
After killing the globe, bust, and ruler, Zhang Wenda could finally face the Youth Center’s last enemy.
He looked forward again and saw the translucent flesh had vanished. In its place hovered a floating color crayon drawing of a house beneath a rainbow arch.
Zhang Wenda noticed a small tear in the upper left corner of the drawing, as if it had been ripped.
When that resonance of fear returned, he understood what the painting represented.