Detective Conan: Shadow Legion Office

134: Chapter 134: Memory Modification, the Detective Conan World Returns to NormalHalf a year’s time is a cycle of changing seasons in the kexue world, but in Lin Long’s small world, it is only a fleeting moment of the laws circulating.

When Lin Long’s consciousness sank once again into the source of the kexue world, his fingertips could already touch that layer of warm ”world membrane.”

A faint golden light flowed over the surface of the membrane, and a strand of it was already connected to his consciousness—that was the ten percent of the source he had obtained through erosion over the past half year, like a slender thread quietly binding the two worlds together.

”That’s enough.”

Lin Long’s voice echoed in the conscious space, carrying a rhythm that resonated with the world.

Mastering ten percent of the source meant he could already mobilize part of the laws of the kexue world.

He no longer needed to rely on instigating wars or amplifying malevolence to extract energy as he had in the past, because this strand of the source was like an interface, allowing him to directly ”taste” the energy generated by the world’s operation—as well as the souls of people who died every day in Conan’s world, which were pulled into Lin Long’s small world, turning into source energy to nourish it.

More importantly, he could finally set about handling the biggest ”aftereffect”—the butterfly effect he had initiated single-handedly.

On the map of the kexue world, the fires of war had been burning for half a year.

The chaotic battle between the Black Organization, the ”Cross Society,” and ”Night” had spread to over a dozen countries; drug cartels in Southeast Asia took the opportunity to expand, European arms dealers made a fortune, and even the FBI and CIA were dragged into the quagmire, having no time to attend to their original missions.

Although the fires of war had not directly ignited on the streets of Tokyo, a tense atmosphere permeated the air; the news was filled every day with reports of ”armed conflicts occurring in certain locations” and ”attacks on organization leaders,” and the entire world had long since deviated from its original track.

”If this continues, the world will be ’broken.’”

Lin Long looked at the golden light of the source flowing in his hand and shook his head gently.

What he needed now was a stable kexue world, a breeding ground that could continuously produce ”case energy,” rather than a war-torn ruin on the brink of collapse.

Conan, the ”God of Death,” can only encounter cases continuously and drive the flow of the world’s source within a normal social order; the existence of the Black Organization also requires a relatively stable environment to maintain its ”hidden evil,” otherwise, being exposed to the sunlight too early would only accelerate its demise and cut off the energy source.

”It’s time for everything to return to the right track.”

Lin Long’s consciousness sank into the source of the kexue world, his fingertips lightly touching that strand of the source thread that belonged to him.

In an instant, countless law runes gushed from his fingertips, flowing along the thread into every corner of the world like fine needles, beginning to stitch together the order torn apart by the fires of war.

The first thing to be corrected was ”memory.”

Tokyo, Mouri Detective Agency. Mouri Kogoro, who was drinking beer, suddenly shook his head, his eyes appearing somewhat dazed—

He seemed to have been thinking about something very important just now, about a certain small island, a hunting trip, and a global melee? But thinking carefully, only the daily routine of bickering with Conan and being scolded by Kisaki Eri remained in his mind.

”Strange...” He scratched his head and threw the empty beer bottle into the trash can, ”I’ve probably had too much to drink.”

Next door, Dr. Agasa was adjusting a new invention when he suddenly stopped, staring blankly at the blueprints on the table.

He seemed to remember researching an antidote for a drug that could make people smaller? And talking to a man named Kudo Yusaku over an encrypted phone? But in his memory, there were only fragments of making tracking glasses for Conan and toys for the Detective Boys.

”I’m getting old, my memory is getting worse.” He shook his head with a smile and continued tightening screws.

In a Black Organization stronghold, Gin was wiping his sniper rifle when he suddenly frowned.

A blood-colored sea surface flashed through his mind, a group of men in black wearing hoods, and the missing Kudo Yusaku... but these images were like reflections in water, shattering at a touch. All he could remember were the organization’s missions, the pursuit of Sherry, and that ”Silver Bullet” who was always sabotaging plans.

”Useless trash.”

He cursed under his breath, dispelling the irrelevant stray thoughts.

America, an FBI safe house.

Akai Shuichi put down his coffee cup and gazed at the curtain of rain outside the window, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. He seemed to have a sister involved in some dangerous incident? And his mother...

Akai Mary’s figure flashed through his mind, but she was in her normal adult form, without the slightest trace of having become smaller.

”I probably just miss them too much.”

He picked up the walkie-talkie and began deploying the mission to monitor the Black Organization.

Similar scenes played out all over the world. For those who had personally experienced the melee, the fragments in their memories regarding the ”three-way war,” the ”high seas raid,” and ”Kudo Yusaku being kidnapped” were all wiped away as if by an eraser, leaving only memories related to the ”right track.”

News reports in the kexue world began to be corrected; the traces of war from the past two years were blurred into ”local conflicts,” the explosion of the armory was explained as an ”accidental incident,” and all ”anomalies” related to Lin Long were quietly covered up by the power of the laws.

Next to be corrected were ”relationships.”

The Kudo Yusaku couple returned to Los Angeles, continuing their lives as a writer and an actress, occasionally calling Conan to tell him to ”stay safe,” never mentioning the imprisonment on the island;

Akai Mary continued to operate in her child form, maintaining a secret connection with her daughter Sera Masumi; the secret of ”rejuvenation” was never exposed;

The Black Organization, FBI, and CIA continued to maintain a delicate balance, testing and infiltrating each other, yet never again breaking out into a large-scale conflict.

Only for a few people did the correction of memory show a ”deviation.”

In the Suzuki Family manor, Suzuki Sonoko was pestering Lin Long to watch a newly released movie.

”Lin Long, Lin Long, look at this male lead, doesn’t he look a lot like that hunter we met on the island last time?” She pointed at the screen, then suddenly tilted her head,

”Speaking of which, it seems we really did stay on an island for a while? We even soaked in a hot spring?”

Lin Long held her hand, a faint power of the laws flowing through his fingertips, and nodded with a smile:

”Yeah, but we only stayed for a few days; you have a really good memory.” —The memories regarding the island were retained, only stripped of the parts related to the war.

Suzuki Shiro sat in the Prime Minister’s office, reviewing documents.

When he saw a proposal regarding ”Pacific Island Development,” he suddenly paused for a moment, a blurred image flashing through his mind—his good son-in-law (Lin Long) standing on a terrace on the island, his gaze so deep he didn’t seem mortal. ”

I probably just care too much about that child.”

He smiled and signed his name on the proposal. As Lin Long’s closest elder in this world, his memory retained ”Lin Long’s uniqueness,” yet forgot the specific details.

And the most special one was Conan.

On the football field of Beika Plaza, Conan suddenly clutched his head and crouched down as a bout of intense dizziness struck him.

Countless chaotic images flashed through his mind: exploding speedboats, a blood-colored sea surface, hooded men in black, Kudo Yusaku’s roar... these images were so real he could even smell the gunpowder.

”Conan, what’s wrong?” Ayumi Ran over in concern.

”It’s nothing...”

Conan shook his head, and those images receded like the tide, leaving only an inexplicable palpitation,

”Probably because there have been too many cases lately and I haven’t slept well,” he thought to himself.

He stood up and looked at his laughing companions in the distance, but a thought rose in his heart:

Was all that just a dream? Why did it feel so real?

Lin Long’s consciousness ”watched” Conan’s confused expression, and a hint of understanding flashed in his eyes.

As the Chosen One of the kexue world, Conan’s connection with the world’s source was the deepest; the power of the laws could correct his memory, but it could not completely erase the ”imprint” on the level of the source.

Those blurred fragments were like buried seeds that might sprout one day, but for now, they were just an insignificant ”nightmare” in Conan’s heart.

The last to be corrected was ”Lin Long himself.”

He was still Suzuki Sonoko’s husband, the son-in-law recognized by Suzuki Shiro, held a place in Tokyo’s business world, and would occasionally appear at the Mouri Detective Agency to drink and chat with Mouri Kogoro.

But his ”anomalies” were completely covered up—no one remembered him mobilizing an army, no one knew he controlled underground forces; in everyone’s eyes, he was just a ”very lucky and successful young talent.”

Only in the dead of night, when Conan solved a tricky case, when the Black Organization’s conspiracy was thwarted again, and when the world’s source fluctuated because of these ”plots,” would Lin Long stand on a deserted street corner, feeling the energy flow from that strand of source thread, watching the kexue world slowly operate according to its ”proper” trajectory.

Half a year of erosion and the mastery of ten percent of the source had resulted in a kexue world that had returned to the right track.

Lin Long looked up at the night sky, where Tokyo’s neon lights flickered with a warm glow like countless beating energy points.

He knew the road ahead was still long; from ten percent of the source to completely devouring the entire world might take ten years, or it might take a hundred, but he had plenty of time.

Conan’s figure appeared at the street corner, walking home with Ran and Sonoko, a smile characteristic of a young boy on his face.

Lin Long looked at him, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

This ”God of Death” boy did not yet know that behind him followed a Heavenly Dao that was slowly ”devouring” the world.

And this was the most perfect step in his plan—to watch the plot unfold as a bystander and, without anyone noticing, slowly incorporate the entire kexue world into his own domain.