Chapter 2942 - 1396: Contingency Plans and Hypotheses

Maybe it was because Motan, no matter what mental state he’s in, always feels he can’t waste time right now, so the silence only lasted for about a minute before this discussion—full of absurdity and eeriness—continued to unfold...

"Tsk tsk, didn’t expect you to be that observant."

Motan in the black trench coat walked up to the pajama Motan with a broad grin, slung an arm over his shoulder in a carefree way, and blinked: "I thought in this kind of state you were just a totally useless salted fish."

Tracksuit Motan frowned and glared at Black-Coat Motan: "Stop talking nonsense. Compared to the mental state you’re in, he’s always been way more excellent."

"That’s your stereotype talking. ’Salted fish’ doesn’t have to be an insult."

Black-Coat Motan rolled his eyes, then immediately turned his head and started egging Pajama Motan on: "What are you gonna do? He looks down on you!"

Pajama Motan: "..."

"Don’t play word games with me."

Tracksuit Motan was completely unmoved, just said irritably: "I’m taking issue with your ’totally useless,’ not the ’salted fish’ part!"

Black-Coat Motan curled his lip and muttered under his breath: "Tch, busted already..."

"You two, aren’t you a bit too lacking in a sense of crisis here."

Pajama Motan slapped away the arm resting on his shoulder, looking helpless and a little wistful: "However you look at it, the situation right now is pretty unsettling, right?"

"Exactly, exactly!"

Black-Coat Motan immediately shot Tracksuit Motan a reproving look and lectured, "Be serious, be serious."

Throb—

He didn’t say anything, but a very, very, very obvious vein popped at Tracksuit Motan’s temple.

"Ahem, so let’s talk about the real issue. Time’s tight, the task is heavy, and the situation is like ’me’ said—kind of unsettling."

Maybe Black-Coat Motan was a bit afraid of getting punched, so he changed the topic right away, but in the end he still couldn’t help sneaking in one more line: "But don’t you think this is actually kind of fun?"

The other two ignored him.

"If we think about it carefully..."

Tracksuit Motan rubbed his chin and weighed his words: "Our current situation is a bit similar to the Talents [The Arrogance of the Vile Ones] we got not long ago. Rather than saying time in the outside world has slowed down, it’s more like our own thinking speed has accelerated, so we get this kind of ’bullet time’ effect."

"Bullet time is Niu Chao."

Black-Coat Motan nodded in mock solemnity, sighing: "Keanu Reeves is genuinely handsome."

"Seconded."

Pajama Motan also completely ignored Black-Coat Motan, nodding: "Human thought doesn’t really have a strict, clearly defined threshold to begin with, so even though this pretty much never happens in reality, in theory it still holds. I just calculated the time ratio—this level should still be within what the human Physical Ability can bear. But it’s purely theoretical, with absolutely no scientific evidence backing it."

"Is there a chance that we also have the Potential to be ’Superman’?"

Tracksuit Motan floated the hypothesis, musing: "Like those so-called ’Outsiders,’ ’Mediums,’ and whatnot?"

"If that’s true, then this is definitely one of the most useless kinds of ability."

Pajama Motan laughed and shrugged: "I mean, it’s just faster thinking speed. We can’t pull off personal bullet time like in The Matrix—only the thinking speeds up, the body can’t keep up."

Tracksuit Motan laughed too: "Fair point. And we can’t enter this state voluntarily either. The Talents in the game don’t count, since those have system Support."

"Talking to yourself really is convenient."

Pajama Motan raised his fist and gave it a little shake.

"I think so too."

Tracksuit Motan bumped fists with him from a distance.

The two exchanged a smile...

"What the hell are you laughing at?!"

Black-Coat Motan finally snapped, roaring: "Are you pretending I don’t exist or what?! You form a little clique and marginalize me right from the start! We’re the same person—your conscience doesn’t hurt? At least include me in the conversation, okay? This is bullying! This is blatant bullying!"

Tracksuit Motan shrugged.

Pajama Motan spread his hands.

Neither of them spoke, but they both knew they didn’t need to. At the end of the day, they were all Motan—in the same time period, sharing experiences, sharing Knowledge. In other words, they were the exact same person with zero generational gap, so a lot of things didn’t need to be said.

As expected—

"Fine, you all want to talk serious, then let’s talk serious."

Black-Coat Motan curled his lip and slowly walked to stand between the other two. In the lazy tone he always uses when he’s in his ’Chaotic Neutral’ persona, he drawled, "Let’s break things down into a few batches to discuss. First is the most important part—our coping strategies in ’reality.’ Depending on how things go, we can split off two possibilities to discuss separately. First, after these twenty minutes are up, we go back to the situation we’re familiar with: intermittent episodes, irregular, passive switching of mental states. Under that premise, my proposal is: keep doing what we’ve been doing."

"No objections."

Seeing Black-Coat Motan finally get into the right frame of mind, Pajama Motan immediately chimed in and nodded: "After all, the way we’re living now suits us best and is least likely to cause mistakes in all kinds of areas."