Chapter 8: The Cost of the Domain (First Sign of Loss of Control)

Night fell over the mountains and forests like a damp cloth.

Chen Ye crouched behind a pile of rocks upstream of the river bend, his breathing deliberately subdued.

A Type 56 semi-automatic rifle rested across his lap, its stock icy cold, the metallic chill seeping into his knuckles.

This was the third day since the space's "domain" had been fully deployed for the first time.

He should have been excited—the prey density had doubled, his perception range had expanded, schools of fish in the river seemed to be actively approaching his fishing line, even the wind direction and scents were subtly guided by the domain.

But now, he only felt something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

The chirping of insects was intermittent; the wild animals deep in the forest seemed to have something pressing on their throats, even their breathing deliberately avoiding this area.

"Brother Ye, this place...it's very strange."

Second Brother Zhao Shi lowered his voice, his hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, but his steps were lighter than usual.

Third Brother Liu He didn't speak, but subconsciously touched the pistol at his waist, his eyes wary.

Chen Ye didn't turn around.

His attention was firmly fixed on a line of faint text in his field of vision—

【Spatial Domain Continuously Activated】

【Stability: 78%】

【Warning: Mental Load Increasing】

“Load?” Chen Ye's brow twitched slightly.

The system had only previously indicated “consumption,” never “load.”

The fishing line suddenly sank.

It wasn't a forceful tug, but a continuous, slow, yet exceptionally firm pull.

“A fish’s on,” Liu He whispered.

Chen Ye didn't immediately reel in the line.

In that instant, his consciousness felt as if it had been pulled beneath the surface of water.

—His vision expanded.

The riverbed's texture, the direction of the undercurrent, the trajectory of the fish's movement—were forcibly crammed into his mind by an unfamiliar “clarity.”

Too much.

The information wasn't flooding in, but rather overwhelming.

Chen Ye's throat tightened, and cold sweat trickled down his face. [Stability: 74%]

[Mental Load: Critical]

"Chen Ye?"

Zhao Shi sensed something was wrong and reached out to pat his shoulder.

At that moment—

Buzz.

It felt like something vibrated in his brain.

Chen Ye abruptly stood up, staggering, his Type 56 rifle striking a rock with a crisp metallic sound.

The river surface suddenly churned.

The once calm water was stirred up as if by an invisible hand; schools of fish scattered, and ripples spread across the surface.

"What's going on?!" Liu He's expression changed.

Chen Ye opened his mouth, but found he couldn't make a sound.

Not that he lost his voice.

But—his thinking was a beat slow.

He could hear and see, but it was as if a thick fog obscured his vision; his reactions were sluggish.

[Warning: Abnormal Domain Resonance]

[Recommendation: Immediately Close the Domain]

Close.

The thought had barely surfaced when an even stronger impulse surged within him.

—Continue.

Continue to expand.

Continue to cover.

Continue to control.

That wasn't a system prompt; it was more like… the space's own "desire."

Chen Ye's heart sank.

"Brother Ye, your face looks off!" Zhao Shi had already moved closer.

The instant Zhao Shi stepped into the core of the domain—

Chen Ye abruptly raised his hand.

Not intentionally aiming, but almost instinctively.

The Type 56 rifle was raised, the muzzle instantly pointed at Zhao Shi's chest.

The air froze.

Zhao Shi stood frozen, his pupils contracting.

Liu He's hand was already on his pistol, but he didn't draw it.

"Chen Ye!"

Liu He's voice was strained, "It's me."

At that moment, Chen Ye clearly realized—

His actions just now weren't entirely of his own will.

The muzzle trembled.

It wasn't fear, but a forced, induced "reaction speed."

[Stability: 69%]

[Warning: Domain priority overrides host judgment]

"...Step back." Chen Ye finally managed to squeeze out a voice, hoarse and unlike his own.

Zhao Shi slowly took a step back, his foot just leaving the edge of the domain—

The oppressive feeling suddenly dissipated.

Chen Ye felt as if all his strength had been drained, kneeling on one knee, the butt of his gun slamming heavily on the ground.

The domain's view rapidly contracted.

[Domain closed]

[Mental load decreasing]

[Current stability: 81%]

The night wind blew back into the woods.

The chirping of insects gradually returned.

The three stood silently, none of them speaking first.

After a long while.

"...Just now," Zhao Shi whispered, "were you trying to shoot?"

Chen Ye didn't answer immediately.

He stared at his slightly trembling hand, his palm icy cold.

"No."

He said. “But it felt it should be open.”

That one sentence chilled the air completely.

When he returned home, a dim yellow light shone in the yard.

His father sat on the doorstep sharpening a knife, his movements unhurried.

His mother was tidying the dishes in the kitchen.

His younger sister, Chen Xue, was doing her homework at the table when she heard the noise and looked up.

Her gaze lingered on Chen Ye's face for a moment.

A second longer than usual.

“Brother,” she suddenly said, “did you…go into the mountains today?”

Chen Ye's heart skipped a beat.

“How did you know?”

Chen Xue lowered her head and continued writing, her voice very soft.

“I don’t know.”

“I just…felt it.”

At that moment, Chen Ye suddenly remembered the uncontrollable impulse in the river bend.

He remembered the system's cold, impersonal notification.

—Domain priority overrides host judgment.

The night deepened.

For the first time, he clearly realized—this space was not just a tool.

And he was gradually "adapting" to it.

For the first time, he felt a genuine fear of "becoming stronger."