Doomsday Cognition Guide

After the convoy handed over supplies and personnel in the county town, Uncle Si unloaded the last batch of recycled steel bars at the warehouse entrance, checked the accounts with the logistics personnel in charge of registration, and signed the papers. Old Ma jumped off the armored vehicle, saying they should have a good drink when they got back. Xiao Zhou followed behind, holding a gun, and lightly tapped the barrel with his knuckles. Xiao Liu checked the remaining bandages and hemostatic drugs to make sure nothing was missing. Li Xuan made plans to meet them again next time, then got into the pickup truck with Uncle Si and drove back along the highway.

It was noon when we arrived home. The pickup truck was parked on the gravel road outside the yard, and Uncle Si turned off the engine. Several hens were squatting at the entrance of the shed, lazily pecking at the pebbles on the ground. A thin layer of frost covered the bare branches of the walnut tree, glistening slightly in the midday sun. The gate to the yard was ajar, and the sound of bowls and chopsticks clattering came from the main room.

The mother came out of the kitchen carrying dishes, and paused for a moment when she saw them enter. "You're back?"

"I'm back," Li Xuan said.

Father sat at the eight-immortal table, a cup of tea in front of him, his hand holding his phone—the same old phone with a black screen, which he was just holding out of habit. He glanced at Li Xuan, then at Fourth Uncle, but didn't stand up. He simply said, "Sit down and eat."

The food was already laid out. There was a pot of stewed cured pork with potatoes, a dish of pickled vegetables, a bowl of scrambled eggs, and a plate of freshly steamed white flour buns on the side. Cousin Li Ying brought out a large bowl of hot soup from the kitchen and placed it in the middle of the table. Seeing Li Xuan and her fourth uncle, she called out "Brother" and then "Dad," before sitting down in her seat and picking up her chopsticks.

Fourth Uncle took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair, then pulled out a chair and sat down. Li Xuan sat down next to him, picked up a steamed bun, broke it in half, and stuffed a piece of scrambled egg into it. The family sat around the table, the sunlight streaming through the window onto the edge of the table and onto everyone's faces.

The father picked up his teacup, took a sip, put it down, and asked, "How was the trip?"

The piece of cured meat that Fourth Uncle had just picked up stopped in mid-air. He paused for a moment, then turned his face to the side, put the cured meat in his mouth, and chewed it slowly, as if this piece of meat needed to be chewed for a long time.

Li Xuan swallowed the steamed bun in his mouth and said, "It's alright. Everyone we brought back has been brought back, not a single one is missing."

Father glanced at him twice, his gaze lingering on his face for a moment, before turning back to look at Fourth Uncle. Fourth Uncle swallowed the cured meat in his mouth, placed his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl, and said, "This kid was being stubborn; I couldn't stop him." His voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the quiet main room.

The mother was serving food to her cousin when she heard this. Her chopsticks stopped mid-air, and she turned to look at Li Xuan: "Are you alright?"

"It's all ready," Li Xuan said before his fourth uncle could speak, his tone casual, as if he were talking about something unimportant. He picked up a piece of cured meat, put it in his mouth, chewed a few times, swallowed, and then picked up his bowl to drink a sip of soup. His mother stared at him for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping over his face twice, then looking at his fourth uncle. His fourth uncle kept his head down, shoveling rice into his bowl, without saying a word. In the end, his mother didn't press him, but simply reached her chopsticks into his bowl and picked up another piece of meat.

The father picked up his teacup again, took a sip, put the cup down, and said, "As long as you didn't embarrass yourself, that's fine."

When Uncle Si heard this, he looked up from his bowl, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just ate all the rice in his bowl, stood up and went to the kitchen to get more rice.

After dinner, his mother cleared the dishes, and his cousin helped wipe the table. Li Xuan walked into the courtyard. The wind blew down from the cliff, rustling the bare branches of the walnut tree. The pool beside the platform was completely frozen over; the ice wasn't thick, but it was enough to support a person's weight. The cave salamander was no longer in the pool—after the weather turned cold, it had returned to the deep pool inside the cave via the underground waterway, where the temperature remained constant year-round, making it more suitable for overwintering than the pool outside.

He entered the cave and descended the steps to the lower level. The surface of the deep pool was several meters lower than the outer pool. The lamplight shone on the water, revealing the olm at the bottom, its scales gleaming dimly in the yellowish light. He crouched down by the pool, dipped his hand into the water, and called to it with his mind. The olm rose from the bottom, its four legs paddling across the water, and climbed onto a rock in front of him, shaking off the water droplets from its tail. It had grown considerably in this time, now the size of his palm. Its life force was operating steadily within it, and he could feel that familiar vibrational frequency being transmitted through the connection between his clone and the olm.

He reached out and gently touched the olm's body with his fingers. The touch was icy cold, and the scales trembled slightly beneath his fingertips. He closed his eyes and simultaneously activated his assimilation ability. At the same time, the olm activated its reverse assimilation—the quantum entanglement channel between his clone and him was fully activated at this moment, and two assimilation forces surged in from both ends of the channel, permeating and replacing each other.

This assimilation was much faster than the first time. During the first assimilation, the olm was still a newly hatched larva with fragile tissues, and it took him a full three days to complete the replacement. Now, the clone had grown to the size of a palm, and its life field was continuously strengthening its body structure. With both sides working simultaneously, the assimilation efficiency was greatly improved. By evening, the olm had completed the entire assimilation process. He himself had only assimilated one palm—the clone was too small, and the tissue from the reverse assimilation was only enough to replace one of his hands. For the remaining part, he would have to use his special abilities to continue the process.

He gently tapped the olm's head with his finger, sending it back into the deep pool. The olm flicked its tail, turned, and slid into the water, quickly disappearing into the darkness at the bottom.

He looked down at his two hands. His right hand was the one that had been assimilated. He gently clenched his fist and then released it; each bend of his fingers responded precisely to his will, without delay or separation. Then he clenched his left hand. He had never noticed this difference before, but now, comparing the two hands side by side, the disparity was frightening. His left hand was also obedient; it could clench, release, and move its fingers, but it always felt like there was a layer between them, like wearing an extremely thin glove, making it impossible to feel anything accurately. But his right hand, the moment his thought arrived, his fingers had already responded, cleanly and crisply, without any delay. Just as he had guessed. His previous body was like wearing a prosthetic limb. It could be used, but it wasn't sensitive enough. This hand, however, truly belonged to him—not a shell covering his consciousness, but something entirely his own.

He stood up and went back up the steps to the upper level. His cousin was watering the vegetable garden near the entrance. Seeing him come out, she asked, "Brother, are you done with your experiment?" He nodded and said he was. His fourth uncle was sorting through the recycled steel bars on the platform, his father was checking the wiring next to the generator, and his mother was boiling water in the kitchen. He gave them instructions one by one, saying he would be staying in his bedroom for a few days and not to be disturbed. Then he went back to his room and closed the door.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at his right palm. He focused his attention on the interface of frequency difference at the edge of his palm, and then activated his assimilation ability.

The pain came quickly. It wasn't a sharp, stinging pain, but a dense, burning, throbbing sensation that surged from deep within, like someone meticulously crushing the fibers of old tissue with their fingers, then forcibly calibrating the rhythm of new tissue. He could feel his skin, muscles, and fascia being dismantled and replaced bit by bit, each replacement accompanied by a fine tremor spreading from his palm to his entire arm. He gritted his teeth, remaining silent, but his back was quickly soaked with sweat.

He persevered for about an hour before stopping and leaning against the headboard to catch his breath. The aching sensation in his body was still lingering, but it wasn't as intense as before. He reached for a bottle of energy drink on the bedside table, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down a few mouthfuls. He then peeled off two pieces of compressed biscuits and stuffed them into his mouth. His life force field was accelerating, and the newly replaced tissues were greedily absorbing the nutrients from his blood. The hunger and pain intertwined, making each swallow feel like filling a bottomless pit.

After resting for about ten minutes, he sat up again, closed his eyes, and continued to move on to the next area.

This continued for seven days straight. Each day, the same rhythm repeated itself—an hour of assimilation, a short break to rest and replenish energy and fluids, then another. The entire process was akin to dismantling and reassembling his own body tissues; while not actually that terrifying, the pain was constant. Each time he stopped, his back was soaked with sweat, leaving a light layer of perspiration on the sheets. He never uttered a sound, but before each restart, he would unconsciously clench his teeth before focusing his attention on his internal body.

Whenever his attention sank into the deepest recesses of his body, he would involuntarily recall events from another timeline. Those seventeen years of memories, like the recurring pain of the past seven days, had never truly left. Every battle, every loss, every desperate struggle for survival after being driven to the brink in his past life was like a microcosm of this assimilation—crushing the broken pieces, piecing them back together, and continuing to move forward. This pain was not unfamiliar to him; only this time, he had more to protect.

His parents and fourth uncle visited him a few times. Each time his mother came, she would leave some warm food at the door, sometimes a bowl of bone broth, sometimes a few freshly steamed buns. She didn't knock, just stood there for a while before leaving. His father came twice. Once, he stopped by while checking the generator, stopping briefly without saying a word; the other time, after finishing work in the evening, he stood outside for quite a while, and Li Xuan could hear his footsteps—steady, slow, with the rhythm he had developed from his long service in the army. His father didn't push the door open; he just stood there for a moment before turning and going back to his room. His fourth uncle came several times, each time coughing at the door and leaving some food—sometimes a few compressed biscuits, sometimes canned fruit he'd taken from the mess hall. He didn't knock, just stood there for a few seconds before leaving. Once, his cousin passed by with a bowl, stopped to listen for a while, and then tiptoed away.

He never opened the door. But every time he heard footsteps at the door, he would stop during a break in the pain and wait until they were far away before continuing.

By the evening of the seventh day, the assimilation process had exceeded his expected limits. He could feel that the proportion of replaced tissue in his body had surpassed a certain threshold—around 60%. At that very moment, the passive effect of his assimilation ability was triggered. The remaining less than 40% of old tissue no longer required his active replacement; the ability itself began to automatically adjust to those remaining areas, like a flood that had overflowed its banks, slowly and irreversibly seeping into the entire land. The excruciating pain that had lasted for seven days suddenly lessened at this moment, replaced by a deeper, pervasive numbness, as if his entire body was gently vibrating.

He finally pushed open the door and walked out of the room.

My cousin was squatting by the pond feeding the olm when she heard footsteps. She looked up and saw him come out; she nearly dropped the bowl in her hands. She stared at the top of his head for several seconds, her eyes wide, before blurting out, "Brother, what happened to you? You've gone bald!"

Li Xuan reached up and touched his head. It was smooth, without a single hair left. His assimilation ability had replaced over 60% of his body's tissues—skin, muscles, fascia—all the hair had fallen out during the replacement process, leaving a completely bald scalp, not even a hair root remaining. He looked down at the back of his hand; the new skin was exactly the same as before, without any luster or unusual texture, looking like an ordinary hand. But now, these hands truly belonged to him. It wasn't the feeling of having a prosthetic limb between them; instead, it felt as if every finger, every inch of skin, was being held completely by his own consciousness for the first time.

He looked at his cousin's face, which was almost scrunched up in a frown, and suddenly remembered a joke that had circulated long ago. A slight smile appeared on his lips. "I've gone bald, and I've become stronger."

His cousin tilted her head, looking at him, clearly not understanding the origin of the joke, but seeing the rare smile on her brother's face, she couldn't help but smile along. His mother came over from the kitchen, holding a freshly washed potato. Seeing him standing in the doorway, she paused, her gaze falling on his bald head, her brow furrowing slightly: "Why did you shave your head?"

Li Xuan smiled awkwardly and touched his bald head. "It's okay, it'll grow back in a few days."

His mother stared at him for a few seconds, then at the new skin on his hands. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something. But in the end, she just sighed, wiped the potato on her apron, and turned to walk towards the kitchen. Halfway there, she turned back and said, "There's still rice in the pot, help yourself."

For the first time in seven days, he stepped out of the cave. The cold wind clung to his bare scalp and face like chilling silk. His body reacted instinctively the moment it touched the cold—his blood flowed faster, and warmth surged from his torso to his limbs. He slowly opened his arms, as if to embrace the entire chilly air. The wind slipped through his fingers, glided across his new skin, every touch as clear as a baby's first touch of the world. This feeling was like rebirth.