The four of them walked through three or four more rooms, with Ji Yushi carefully marking each one.

As they climbed, Lin Xinlan asked, “Consultant Ji, can you estimate how many layers this cube has?”

Rubik’s cubes are familiar to enthusiasts in sizes ranging from three layers to nine, but there are legendary ones with up to seventeen layers or even higher.

Ji Yushi, following closely behind, replied, “I can’t.”

Lin Xinlan seemed surprised by this answer and turned to glance at him.

Ji Yushi wasn’t omnipotent. The further they progressed through the rooms, the more the idea that this cube-like puzzle might not correspond to the real-world Rubik’s Cube started to form a haze of doubt in his mind. He couldn’t be sure, and the more they moved forward, the less clarity he had. However, he didn’t show any signs of uncertainty on his face.

The team’s mental state was important, and it was too early to express doubt, especially when everyone was eager to uncover the mystery ahead.

They reached a room with a gray sphere.

Duan Wen took down the gray sphere, repeating the same action they’d done countless times. To avoid triggering the trapdoor, everyone stepped back from the circular opening and prepared to observe.

This time, just as they stepped back, a “beep” sounded.

Immediately, something fell from the circular hole above them, accompanied by the overpowering stench of blood and the sound of splattering fluids.

Duan Wen had opened the switch above.

The group couldn’t dodge in time.

Several human bodies—no, half-bodies or severed limbs—fell to the floor. Some intestines dangled from half-torsos, mixed with organs and blood, while severed fingers scattered across the floor. The scene resembled a massacre, fresh and grotesque, as the remains twitched, indicating a recent death.

Seeing this, Ji Yushi felt a wave of nausea.

Instinctively, he turned around and leaned against the wall, taking shallow breaths to calm himself.

“Damn it!”

“Sh*t!”

Everyone was splattered with blood. Song Qinglan shook the bits of flesh off his hand, his expression grim.

He glanced up at the circular hole above. “Gray!”

There seemed to be many gray rooms nearby, and it appeared these people had encountered a deadly time discrepancy.

“I know who they are,” Ji Yushi said, now composed. “After I got separated from Li Chun and the others, I met their teammate Zoe. They got separated as well, but it looks like they went the wrong direction.”

The black and gold uniforms, the faint Sky Vault insignia on the severed arms—these were Zoe’s teammates.

This scene served as a stark reminder to both Team 7 and Lin Xinlan. Survival in this cube was likely a matter of luck, and their own teammates could have faced similar fates.

Lin Xinlan asked, “Do we keep going?”

He sounded less convinced by Team 7’s approach now.

Ji Yushi didn’t respond immediately.

Song Qinglan looked at him and, in his usual calm tone, said, “Whether we continue or not, we should get out of here first.”

The group moved to a new room, where the sphere was purple, adjacent to the gray room. The previous lighthearted atmosphere was now tense, shaken by the grisly scene they had just witnessed.

Duan Wen asked, “Captain Song, should we try to find an exit?”

Song Qinglan removed his bloodstained black combat uniform, revealing a gray undershirt beneath. He used the shirt to wipe the blood off his face.

Since Song Qinglan had been at the front earlier, he had taken the brunt of the gore. Even Duan Wen, who was similarly splattered, stood a bit further away from him.

They all looked disheveled.

After wiping the blood off, Song Qinglan discarded his shirt. “Haven’t we been looking for an exit this whole time?”

Duan Wen paused.

It was true. Even if Lin Xinlan wasn’t aware of it, Duan Wen knew all too well.

In a mission set up by Celestial, there was no option for quitting or not completing the task. The only way out was to finish the mission.

Lin Xinlan also took off his shirt, shook it off, and put it back on. Unlike the muscular Song Qinglan, Lin was on the leaner side. “It’s time we stopped and thought about what we’re doing. Now that we’ve figured out the pattern of the room movements, there’s no need to wander around aimlessly. Besides, as we mentioned before, there are many other teams here. Even if you start splicing the rooms, their movements will disrupt it. There’s no point in continuing.”

Lin Xinlan made a reasonable argument.

But Song Qinglan turned to Ji Yushi.

He was waiting for Ji Yushi’s opinion and, strangely, felt an urge to wipe the blood off Ji Yushi’s face.

Ji Yushi hadn’t gotten much blood on him, but his mild cleanliness issue made him look particularly displeased. His expression was as cold as ice.

Ji Yushi said, “This is the seventeenth room we’ve passed through.”

Duan Wen was surprised. “Already seventeen?”

Lin Xinlan added, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

No one noticed Song Qinglan discreetly putting his hands into his pockets.

Ignoring the dirt on his body, Ji Yushi continued, “Have you noticed that it looks like we’re getting closer to the center of this ‘cube?’”

There were more gray rooms, along with interspersed blue, red, green, purple, and the occasional yellow. Six colors were now clustered around them.

With Ji Yushi’s reminder, everyone had a sudden realization.

“We’re moving towards the center? It does seem that way!”

“What do you think is there?”

“I don’t know,” Ji Yushi replied, his expression unchanged. “I’ve been thinking about it along the way. If we compare it to a standard Rubik’s Cube, it only has six faces, and the central part is fixed, with core blocks supporting it. But as we move towards the center, we’re still encountering different colored rooms, suggesting this is made up of countless cubes, not just the outer six faces.”

It was rare for Ji Yushi to say “I don’t know.”

When he did, the group grew slightly concerned, but hearing his continued analysis reassured them somewhat.

“Judging by the movement patterns, this cube doesn’t follow the same rules as a Rubik’s Cube,” Ji Yushi explained. “The rooms shift in opposing directions—up-right, down-left, left-back, right-front, front-down, back-up. The way these rooms move doesn’t fit any restoration formula for any size cube.”

Song Qinglan added, “Could it be, like in ‘Chaos,’ that the mission is only literal and doesn’t have any deeper meaning? After all, it’s just an artificial intelligence system, not something profound.”

Duan Wen, in his rough manner, said, “Right! It’s just like the ‘Ouroboros’ mission—completely misleading! Maybe we’re overthinking this and should try a different approach.”

Ji Yushi didn’t respond.

If they truly had the wrong idea, then the 17 rooms they had passed through, and all the recordings they made, would have been for nothing—completely wasted effort.

Lin Xinlan, not understanding references to ‘Chaos’ or ‘Ouroboros,’ didn’t pry but asked, “What about the time discrepancies? There might be a connection between the different time flows in each room.”

It was a potential breakthrough.

“I don’t know,” Ji Yushi shook his head again, then apologized, “Sorry.”

Lin Xinlan wasn’t offended by Ji Yushi’s answer, as he had only been throwing out an idea. He just continued pondering aloud, “It’s fine.”

This was the second time Ji Yushi had said “I don’t know.”

After speaking, Ji Yushi lowered his head and opened his communicator, intending to use the holographic projection to organize their current data.

But then Song Qinglan’s voice broke through, blunt and direct: “Why are you apologizing?”

Everyone paused and turned to look.

Ji Yushi raised his head, meeting Song Qinglan’s gaze.

Wearing only a vest, with muscular arms exposed and broad shoulders, combined with his impressive height and stubbled chin, Song Qinglan looked tough and imposing—just like when they first met, confrontational and unrelenting.

It almost felt like that moment had returned.

But then Song Qinglan said, “Solving the mission and completing the task isn’t your sole responsibility. Just because you’re smart and have a great memory doesn’t mean you have to solve every puzzle. Ji Yushi, you’re human, not a supercomputer or a god. There’s no need to apologize for something none of us understand.”

Ji Yushi’s clear eyes showed a hint of surprise. “It’s not…”

Song Qinglan cut him off, “Do you think you’ve wasted our time?”

Ji Yushi hesitated. “A little.”

Song Qinglan wasn’t disappointed at all. In fact, he wasn’t bothered by the lack of progress. Instead, he chuckled softly.

Duan Wen felt embarrassed, and even Lin Xinlan realized they had inadvertently placed the entire burden of the mission on Ji Yushi’s shoulders.

They had all grown so used to relying on Ji Yushi in previous tasks that they hadn’t even noticed.

What they hadn’t expected was that Song Qinglan, as the team leader, would say something like that.

Yes, Ji Yushi had hyperthymesia and exceptional intelligence, but that didn’t mean he had to be the one to figure out the solution to every task or solve every problem.

“Even if the approach is wrong, it doesn’t mean we’ve wasted time. At least we understand how the rooms move and how to navigate them safely,” Song Qinglan continued. “Now, are you all scared because of a few dead bodies?”

Duan Wen immediately denied it, “No way, it’s just gross! I’m not scared.”

Lin Xinlan, who had wanted to stop walking: “…”

He felt even more like an outsider now.

Song Qinglan said, “Since we’re already close to the center, why not keep going? If this is indeed a superstructure made of countless rooms, what do you think the center will look like? Will it have all six colors at once, or will it be a white core block? What if the secret is right there? Quitting now would be too soon, wouldn’t it? Or do you plan to sit around doing nothing?”

He clapped his hands. “Come on, let’s go check out the center of this structure.”

Noticing Ji Yushi’s gaze, Song Qinglan asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Ji Yushi replied, “…I want to rest for ten minutes.”

Song Qinglan checked his watch. “Fine. Everyone, take a twenty-minute break.”

Duan Wen: “…”

Lin Xinlan: “…”