Chapter 246: Chapter 244: A Suitable Key
"It really works! General, I remember everything—the Dragon Origami..."
Armor said in joyful surprise, turning his hands over and over.
But a moment later, his movements suddenly seized up.
His joyful expression instantly turned rigid.
His fingers twitched a few times. Armor looked at the frozen screen, as if trying to get a clear look at how the dragon was folded.
But his hands still wouldn’t move.
The surrounding Fishmen saw his strange behavior and dared not make a sound, afraid they might disturb him.
But after a long wait, Armor remained completely still, his hands frozen in mid-air.
Finally, he gave up. His hands fell limply to his sides.
He averted his gaze, speaking to his comrades in embarrassment:
"I’ve forgotten again."
"I’ve forgotten everything..."
He tried playing the video again, but this time, even staring intently at the little Fishman’s technique, he couldn’t keep up with the origami steps. Frustrated, he began slapping his own clumsy hands.
’I was so close. What happened?’
Refusing to give up, he was about to try again, but Jeff stopped him.
"Stop trying."
"But, General..."
Jeff cut him off again. "Are you sure you remembered how to do the origami just now?"
"I’m sure!" Armor answered decisively. "During that period of freedom, when I was immortal, I remembered everything!"
"It wasn’t just the origami, but all the skills I’d forgotten!"
At these words, the other Fishmen could no longer sit still. They all started clamoring with questions.
Jeff fell into thought for a moment before asking for confirmation again. "Are you certain it wasn’t a delusion? That the Racial Lock was gone?"
Hearing the seriousness in Jeff’s question, Armor lowered his head and considered it deeply for a long moment.
"It definitely wasn’t a delusion. It was true freedom—the kind of freedom that can break even the Racial Lock."
"I felt those lost skills reappear in my mind, as if I had always known them. Everything felt completely natural."
"That’s the real key!"
Armor’s voice echoed among the assembled Fishmen, but for a long time, no one responded.
They had clearly never imagined that immortality was actually the "key" to undoing the Racial Lock.
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Of course!"
"No way, I have to try it for myself!"
The Fishmen began rubbing their hands together, eager to give it a try.
"Don’t be hasty," Jeff said, stopping the Fishmen who wanted to try it for themselves.
He remained perfectly calm, pouring a bucket of cold water on their enthusiasm:
"This isn’t a viable key. If everyone is reduced to a muddled, ignorant soul, then even if we’re unlocked, it’s completely meaningless."
Jeff had precisely pointed out the fatal flaw in this method of unlocking.
All skills are built on a foundation of knowledge. While immortality might allow the Fishman Race to cast off their shackles, the people who did so would become "free and easy"—and this was clearly not what they wanted.
At that moment, the Fishman Race was faced with an irreconcilable contradiction:
To be free was to become a fool.
To avoid becoming a fool was to remain in shackles.
...
Soon, everyone present recognized this fact. The Fishmen, who had just been in a state of excitement, were instantly plunged into conflict.
They had been desperately searching for a way to escape their limitations. Now, such a method was right in front of them, incredibly simple to achieve, and yet it was utterly unattainable.
This was torture for the Fishmen.
"Is there any other way? Can we do it without sacrificing our bodies?"
"It won’t work. We just tested it. Only the Chali Race’s method is effective. The fact that we can recreate our bodies at all is already a loophole."
"What if we let the soul die forever, and make the body immortal?"
"Are you listening to yourself?! If the soul is gone, what’s the point?"
"Then let’s make half the soul and half the body immortal..."
The Fishmen were still unwilling to give up, wanting to try all sorts of methods to achieve immortality.
However, after several tests, none proved effective except for the Chali Race’s method.
Every single attempt failed, without exception.
"What’s going on? Didn’t the Chali Race say anything could be used as the price, as long as it was half?"
"They did, but our measurements aren’t precise enough."
"Measurements?"
"Yes, measurements. What is ’half’? By weight? Volume? Surface area? Elemental composition?"
Hearing this string of questions, the Fishmen, who had been in a heated discussion, all fell silent.
"It’s true that it’s half, but we don’t know the definition of ’half’! The Chali Race only told us that the soul and the body could each be considered a half; they never told us the precise method of measurement!"
"Besides, even if we knew the criteria for what constitutes ’half,’ we wouldn’t know the required precision. We can only perform a crude division. Who knows exactly what ’half a soul’ even is?"
"This isn’t like slicing meat, where you can just cut off what looks like half and call it a day!"
At these words, another silence fell.
"So, you’re saying that besides the Chali Race’s method, we have no other choice?"
"That’s right. None..."
Instantly, the scene fell deathly silent. The hope that had just begun to blossom had vanished in the blink of an eye, like a popped bubble.
The Fishmen’s discussion fell into a stalemate...
Just then, an alert sounded on the silent Fishmen’s channel. It seemed a scout monitoring the surrounding environment had made a new discovery.
"General, the fog’s density is increasing rapidly."
"Is it from natural causes?"
"No. We’ve checked. It wasn’t the Chali Race. This fog seems to have appeared out of thin air."
"Out of thin air? Where is it appearing?"
"The fog... is right here, all around us."
Hearing this, the Fishmen stopped discussing the problem of immortality. They all activated the flight components of their armor and scanned their surroundings with vigilance.
But after a long wait, no enemies or dangers appeared. The fog simply grew thicker and thicker, even swirling toward the Fishmen as if wanting to cling tightly to their bodies.
"What is this stuff?"
"Analysis indicates ordinary fog... and some unknown substances."
Under the Fishmen’s wary gazes, the dense fog closed in. It was like a living creature, writhing with tentacles that ceaselessly tried to bore into their armor.
Seeing this, the Fishman Armor on each of them began to glow. A powerful gust of wind then blasted out, blowing the fog away from their bodies.
Runes interlaced, and a protective shield composed of hexagons materialized over the armor, sealing the fog out.
The fog, dispersed by the wind, re-coalesced and once again surged toward the Fishmen, wrapping itself tightly around the outside of their protective shields.
Seeing this, the Fishmen remained cautiously in place, not daring to make any sudden moves.
"It seems to have latched onto us..."
