Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

After the initial shock, a slight smile finally appeared on Zhang Wusheng's face.

This kind of straightforward, unprovoked encouragement is actually more like a blessing.

Receiving blessings from others in a foreign land was a novel and heartwarming experience for him.

"Hmm." He gripped his cane tighter and said in a deep voice, "Then I'll take your good wishes."

----

"……oh……"

The moment he pushed open the door, Zhang Wusheng was surprised in every sense of the word.

It's still noon, but the room is very dark.

It was 1893, a full 14 years since the founding of the Triumvirate Electric Manufacturing Company. In America, almost every developed city had electric lighting, and residential areas should have been no exception. But instead of turning on the lights, they had kept their curtains drawn tight.

Koreya let her long braided hair down, the slightly wavy gold color cascading over her shoulders.

She took off her dark green ladylike dress and changed into a more fitted, elegant pure white knit top. Over it, she wore a scholarly-style suit, perfectly combining her intellectual and gentle temperament.

Yinshuang also changed her clothes, her silver hair tied into a playful and energetic ponytail, simple yet capable, much like the kind of trainee student who would follow a scholar and be responsible for handling miscellaneous tasks.

"This is really..." Seeing how formal they were dressed, Zhang Wusheng couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He subconsciously smiled and said, "The two ladies look completely different from before."

"Choosing an image that makes the patient feel comfortable yet maintains a sense of distance is also part of the treatment."

"Come with me."

----

carpet.

Tables and chairs.

ceiling.

The walls are covered with paintings.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the swirling dust.

Is this the place where I'm going to completely eradicate this nightmare that has haunted me for so long?

Zhang Wusheng still found it hard to believe.

But no matter what, there is at least a glimmer of hope.

“This is it.” Koreya opened the innermost room, took off her shoes, and stepped directly onto the carpet. She smiled and said, “I brought this carpet myself. Miss Silverfrost just cleaned it once.”

"Please sit down on it like I did."

"okay……"

Zhang Wusheng put his cane aside. Because his right leg was difficult to bend, he couldn't even sit down smoothly.

The room itself had clearly been tidied up, with all the items that might distract from the room moved elsewhere.

Besides the carpet, there was only a dark green wall clock, its pendulum striking a regular "tick-tock" as time passed. This made the room seem even more spacious, like a completely isolated space composed of four walls.

Apart from this room, all the other doors were closed by Silverfrost.

The carpet was exquisitely crafted; clearly, Correa had considered the possibility of patients sitting on it. But its pattern particularly bothered Zhang Wusheng: a swirling pattern of interwoven black and white geometric shapes. Just sitting on it and staring at it for a while seemed to create a strange suction, drawing him in.

“Drawing the curtains and closing the doors are to block out light and sound, to mimic the nighttime environment as much as possible, right?” Zhang Wusheng said after observing the surroundings. “I’ve heard that people’s emotional activity is more developed at night. Is that why?”

"You're very smart," Correa said with a noncommittal smile.

“I understand all of that, but to be honest…”

Zhang Wusheng pointed to two large floor mirrors in the corner of the room, almost reaching the ceiling, and exclaimed, "What are those things? Mirrors?"

“That?” Koreya smiled gently. “That’s a magical tool that we’ll be using during the treatment later.”

Chapter 1001: Imagination has surpassed that of ordinary people!

"What should we do next?"

Zhang Wusheng was like a shut-in who hadn't left the house in a long time; he had developed a psychological fear of the outside world and resisted the act of going out. But once he actually took that step, the outside world felt novel to him, and he was even a little eager to try it out.

In 1893, psychotherapy was not widespread and remained almost entirely theoretical. The upcoming new experience was like a pebble, breaking the stagnant pool in his heart.

"Are you going to hypnotize me? Like a hypnotist in a theatrical show, waving a string of pocket watches in front of my eyes?"

“I won’t do that,” Correa said with a soft laugh, half-covering her mouth. “While hypnosis isn’t out of the question, I would prefer that you be conscious and work with me to complete your psychological treatment. This process aligns better with my academic principles.”

"Besides, hypnotizing someone is not so easy. It involves very complex psychological suggestion, concept implantation, and a subtle grasp of the individual's mental state."

"Even if all of these conditions are met, the person still needs to actively cooperate to enter a hypnotic state. If hypnosis could be achieved by simply waving a pocket watch in front of someone, wouldn't that be terrifying?"

She smiled gently, as if having a casual chat, and told Zhang Wusheng some interesting stories that he had never heard before.

As a psychiatrist, Correa traveled in northern America and naturally encountered many unusual mental illness cases.

These were all things that Zhang Wusheng, who had always stayed in Baiju City, had never heard of. He was captivated by these novel stories, and his posture gradually relaxed, but he didn't move his body at all. To say he "relaxed" meant that only his shoulders were no longer so tense.

"So thick..." Koreya was constantly observing and analyzing his mental state, and she secretly complained in her heart.

"The walls of my heart are so thick!"

Korea has seen all sorts of patients, and through continuous practice, she has developed a method to quickly build rapport with them.

From her clothing and conversation to even the tone of her voice, everything was different from her usual image. Normally, she was a fast-paced and efficient psychiatrist, but once she started therapy, she tried to project a gentle, patient, and intellectual image, starting with interesting topics.

Through practical testing and with her patient guidance, the vast majority of patients showed a considerable desire to express themselves at this stage. At this point, conversational therapy can proceed normally.

However, the blond boy in front of him, after a series of attacks, only slightly lowered his guard.

This is too difficult!

But, on second thought...

Making a name for oneself in academia is no easy feat; it requires conquering this complex fortress!

……

"This question might seem a bit abrupt," Correa said, getting to the point. "I'd like to know, roughly what level is your 'imagination'?"

"Imagination?" This was the first time Zhang Wusheng had been asked this question.

"The ability to experience auditory and visual hallucinations is enough to demonstrate that you possess an imagination beyond the reach of ordinary people," Correa explained. "This overdeveloped ability is what's causing your current distress. If I'm not mistaken..."

"It must be incredibly powerful, right?"

Zhang Wusheng's excitement, like a fleeting spark, didn't last long before slowly fading away.

“Even though it’s just a conversation, it’s a two-way process,” Correa said with a smile. “If you lie to me, it’s pointless; it’s just a waste of both of our time and Ms. Silverfrost’s time.”

"..." Zhang Wusheng glanced at him, his eyes becoming heavy and gloomy, like the sky before a rainstorm, filled with dark clouds and low pressure.

"It's realistic enough."

Zhang Wusheng's expression was somewhat strange. This was the first time he had admitted this in front of others. "If... I tried my best to think about it..."

"I can't tell whether this is reality or imagination."

This answer didn't surprise Correa at all; the world was full of extraordinary people and things, far exceeding her imagination. The line between genius and madness is often very thin.

To put it another way, many renowned artists don't seem to have had such beautiful mental states. Take the painter Van Gogh, for example; unable to control his anger after an argument, he cut off his own ear. This is clearly something a mentally sound person wouldn't do.

If Zhang Wusheng's cognitive impairment is allowed to continue to develop, it's hard to guarantee that this day won't come.

"In that case, could you please imagine a different location for this conversation?"

"Change...place?" Zhang Wusheng was surprised by her request; every step was beyond his expectations.

"How to change?"

“Imagination,” Koreya tapped her forehead and said with a smile, “Can you do it?”

"I...I don't know, I've never tried it before." Zhang Wusheng looked at his hands, which were trembling with excitement. "Is it okay? Is it alright?"

"No problem, it's part of the treatment."

"Then I, I..." Zhang Wusheng looked around at the empty walls, "Where should we go?"

"Any place is fine, as long as you feel comfortable, at ease, and relaxed in the environment, then there's no problem."

"My only requirement is authenticity. Use all your imagination to make that imagined world as real as possible."

Koreya moved forward a little and gently took his hands in hers. "Don't worry, Mr. Zhang, you've always been here, always by my side."

"If anything happens, I'll bring you back."

----

A place to relax.

A leisurely place.

"call……"

Zhang Wusheng clenched his fist, then released it, then clenched it again, then released it again… using the little strength he had left to focus his attention.

He seemed to feel the four corners of the room trembling slightly.

Physically, he was undeniably weak. Zhang Wusheng had challenged this countless times, only to be repeatedly and brutally defeated by reality, leaving no room for doubt.

Before developing a love for reading, Zhang Wusheng, confined within his body, could only exercise his imagination in the face of this bustling and joyful world.

He kept, kept, kept imagining.

----

The image of White Torch City almost immediately appeared in his mind, replacing the image of this small room.

Zhang Wusheng has spent the vast majority of his life in this city. He can reconstruct the architecture, buildings, streets, alleys, the surging crowds, and the orderly cars in his mind without much effort.

A sound rang in my ears.

The sound of a horn.

Noise and commotion.

The sound of wheels.

The sound of horses' hooves.

He returned to Baiju City, his hometown thousands of miles away.

but……

"No," Zhang Wusheng murmured.

"Is that not allowed?" Correa asked.

"No, this...is not a place for me to relax. I'm not relaxed at all, not happy at all..."

Zhang Wusheng gritted his teeth and waved his hand.

"boom-----!"

With a wave of his hand, he dismantled the city of White Torch before him, and it fell into the void.

Chapter 1002: Ghost Brain, Activate!

"what……"

Sunlight.

distant mountains.

The blue sky.

A sea of ​​emerald green grass.

"Huh...ha..."

Zhang Wusheng took a deep breath and felt genuinely pleased with the scenery before him.

The mountains, the sky, the vast grassland, and the magnificent yet not too dazzling sunlight... it was exactly the same as the grassland of his dreams! Having almost never left White Torch City, he naturally would never actually set foot on the grassland. This was an imaginary world he constructed by combining picture books, books, and other people's descriptions of all the beauty.

"It's...so...so beautiful..."

"What kind of place is it?" Koreya, still with a peaceful smile, handed him a bowl of hot black tea.