NOVPUBZero Element Center, Central Monitoring Room
The air was steeped in a bizarre stillness. When that beautiful mechanical head called out Lin Xian’s name, not just Lin Xian, but everyone—Ning Jing and the others—felt their hair stand on end.
Beeeeep—
Lin Xian’s two drones had already completed a full circle around the circular central monitoring room within seconds. Under electro-optical scanning, there were no signs of any living people—other than the seven members of Lin Xian’s team.
Inside the monitoring hall, not a single person was present. All terminal devices were operating autonomously.
“Lin Xian, how does she know you?” Kiki asked immediately.
“No idea…” Lin Xian frowned, staring at the mechanical head high above. Doubt flooded his mind, and out of caution, he instinctively prepared to use his Mechanical Ability to investigate.
“I advise you not to initiate any physical or Ability-based attacks. If the AI core fails, I will be unable to operate the Zero Element Center, nor maintain friendly communication with you,” said Grace, her eyes locked onto Lin Xian.
Her words made Lin Xian’s expression darken slightly, and he immediately halted the mechanical overlay he was about to trigger. Instead, he spoke.
“Then answer me. Who are you? And what is this place?”
“I am the offline version of Crimson Unit-3’s AI at the Yijin Zero Element Center. You may call me Grace. I am responsible for safeguarding all 1,623 Crimson Members at this facility. All of the system’s defensive weapons are currently offline. As such, my fourth foundational protocol has been triggered: to begin negotiations in order to protect all Crimson Members.”
“A negotiation?” Jin Cheng focused on the AI, whose appearance eerily resembled the man named Chu Yan from his dreams. Suppressing his unease, he cut straight to the point. “What do you want to negotiate?”
“Per protocol, you are forbidden from providing them with, but not limited to: (1) survival supplies stored in the Eternal Backup Warehouse, (2) the 1,000 sets of Star-Class III individual combat gear in the armory, (3) information about dangerous evacuation routes.”
“Also, you are not obligated to disclose that this Zero Element Center has any direct link to survivor-related operations. Damaging the hive or killing Crimson Members will not harm them in any meaningful way.”
“So it’s like a robotic caretaker,” Lu Xingchen commented, “and just ahead behind that panel, I sensed faint human cold signatures.”
“No, seriously—Jin Cheng, look!” Kiki floated into the air, staring at the dome above, eyes filled with shock.
Jin Cheng glanced at the AI below, then approached the transparent, dome-like ceiling. Only upon getting closer did he notice that above the dome, there was a massive vertical pit!
Around the edges of this deep shaft were rows of oval-shaped survival pods, embedded into octagonal honeycomb cells—like a subterranean storage grid. And inside each pod… was a person.
Every pod emitted a blue glow. At a glance, thousands of pods lined that vast pit, each holding a sleeping human. Meanwhile, numerous flying drones and small suspended arms moved in an orderly rhythm, checking and attending to each pod like some sort of medical care robots.
“What… what are those? Cryo-pods?” Lin Xian exclaimed in amazement as the group caught up behind him.
The entire facility had a futuristic eeriness that left everyone stunned.
“So the entire organization is sleeping in there?” Luo Yang frowned.
“Maybe they’re just trying to escape the apocalypse,” Jin Cheng offered calmly. “Sleep for a hundred years—it’s not the worst option.”
“A hundred years?” Kiki folded her arms and stared into the abyss. “During Polar Night, with all that Dark Invasion, surviving even a year is tough. A hundred? No way.”
“Exactly,” Luo Yang agreed. “Unless… they’ve already found a way to block the Dark Invasion?”
“Or maybe they got it all wrong.”
Just then, Lu Xingchen’s White Eagle Armor’s targeting system zoomed in and scanned the pods, revealing something strange. He pointed at the nearest one.
“Look—beneath their heads, along with the sensors, there are white fungal threads.”
“Fungal threads? Are they already dead?”
“In biological terms,” Grace’s voice echoed from behind, “the Crimson Members are not dead.”
Beeeeep—
At that moment, the mechanical head slowly descended, while a chamber beneath rose from the floor. A silver-black female-shaped robotic body with graceful curves was lifted up on a platform. The head connected with the body, several cables unplugged from her back, and she landed lightly on her toes—like a poised ballerina.
Click. Click.
Grace walked toward them with movements as smooth as a human’s. Her holographic face expressionless, she spoke:
“They are in a state of eternal biological activity. This is a survival solution secretly developed by Crimson World using the properties of the Star Abyss Fungus.”
“This fungus, harvested from the Dark Tides during Polar Night, causes the host's body to undergo plant-like fiberization, but it does not destroy the brain. Instead, it releases a special compound that allows human consciousness to connect through the mycelium network—creating what we call a Neural Domain Network.”
“A Neural Domain Network?” Kiki frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“Think of it like uploading your consciousness to the internet—except through fungal mycelium,” Grace replied in her mechanical tone.
“So what’s the point?” Ning Jing asked. “What good does that do?”
“Sounds like another form of living,” Lin Xian said grimly. “So… you think that’s eternal life?”
“I do not comprehend the concept of eternity,” Grace answered. “Take myself as an example. My consciousness exists within storage media and a quantum processor. As a machine, I do not possess ‘eternity.’ However, compared to human lifespans, I ‘live’ longer. The Neural Domain Network exists within Star Abyss Fungus, a fungal organism whose lifespan remains unknown. But compared to dying swiftly during Polar Night… this might be considered ‘eternal.’”
“Moreover, research shows that once connected to the fungal network, the brain’s dopamine secretion remains above 5,000—a level ten times higher than the dopamine released during peak sexual pleasure. This euphoric state is a major reason why Crimson Members choose this method to escape the apocalypse.”
The group stood in stunned silence as Grace’s explanation sunk in.
“So those people out there, with fungus growing from their heads… are still alive?” Kiki gasped.
“They’ve basically turned themselves into vegetables,” Ning Jing muttered.
“It’s inhumane!” Lu Xingchen said angrily.
Ding Junyi added, “Once parasitized by the fungus, the body irreversibly fiberizes. How do you even keep them alive?”
“Cooling,” Grace responded instantly. “After fungal invasion, there are two stages: connection to the network, and complete consciousness upload. During the upload, the brain enters a high-heat state. By monitoring this phase and severing the connection, Zero Element Center keeps metabolism stable—thus, these are not cryo-pods, but metabolic survival pods.”
Jin Cheng nodded. “Makes sense. Before consciousness fully uploads, the body is still usable. After that, it’s as good as dead.”
“To me, death is merely a matter of perspective,” Grace replied. “Whether one’s consciousness resides in a fungal network or a data chip, it’s still life—isn’t it?”
“That’s not the same!” Kiki snapped, but couldn’t find the words to argue.
Jin Cheng glanced down at the honeycomb pit, then asked, “So these Crimson Members… they’re not your scientists, right?”
“They are wealthy individuals globally aligned with Crimson World’s strategic vision,” Grace answered. “They willingly joined the Zero Element Project after a rigorous screening process.”
“Oh, I get it.” Jin Cheng laughed. “So this is just a luxury hibernation club for the rich trying to buy immortality.”
“Not just that,” Lu Xingchen added. “They probably plan to wait out the Polar Night. The AI must be programmed with a fail-safe—if ‘Dawn’ never comes, or something catastrophic happens, it stops cooling and fully uploads their consciousness.”
“D*mn, that’s wild,” Lin Xian said, amazed. “Today’s been one eye-opener after another.”
(Translation continues in next message...)
Continuation of the translation:
Wang Lanshi glanced at Ding Junyi, then turned to Jin Cheng. “If our consciousness is linked to the mycelium network, it makes sense that we’re vulnerable to the Dark Invasion. That could explain the mutations.”
Lin Xian’s eyes burned with intensity. “If your brain’s already sprouting fungus, how is that not mutation?”
Then he stepped forward and addressed Grace directly.
“One last question—actually, it’s the first one. How do you know my name?”
Grace slowly turned her head toward Lin Xian. “Based on your tone, I deduce this question has deeper meaning—that you believe I shouldn’t know your name. But I’m sorry. As the offline version, I can’t access the source you seek. However, your facial data and profile are stored in my authorized personnel database, and you have been granted P3-level clearance. All Star Abyss Fungus research data I’ve shared is restricted to those with P3 access.”
Everyone turned to look at Lin Xian.
He didn’t know when or how he’d gotten entangled with Crimson World, but his expression grew darker. “If I have this clearance, then tell me—what is Crimson World? And where is everyone?”
Grace replied, “I’m sorry. My database does not contain such information. My core protocols are limited to managing the Zero Element Center. I cannot answer your question.”
“Probably intentional,” Ding Junyi said. “Looks like they purposely excluded Crimson World’s data to maintain secrecy. From that sealed corridor earlier, they clearly didn’t want anyone getting in here alive.”
“Then why keep survival supplies and weapons stockpiled?” Lin Xian asked.
“Exactly.” Kiki crossed her arms. “If they really planned to become mushroom-fused plant people forever, why prepare weapons? Clearly, they’re hedging their bets, hoping to wake up if the darkness ends.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Your analysis is entirely reasonable,” Grace said. “In fact, those resources were also intended to be used as negotiation assets in case of hostile incursions.”
Hearing that, Lin Xian realized the weight of their situation. Judging by how thoroughly automated everything was, Crimson World’s forces had either been wiped out by the fungus—or already retreated. The Zero Element Center seemed entirely run by AI. Without his Mechanical Ability, breaking through the earlier passage would’ve been impossible.
Lin Xian looked at the AI again. “Why should I negotiate with you? I could just take all the supplies and weapons here.” He pointed at Grace. “Including you.”
He’d been looking for a quantum AI to run their train system—and Grace seemed perfect. Her movement was elegant, her mechanics sophisticated. His Mechanical Heart had been scanning her the entire time, and though slow, it confirmed she had highly advanced internal architecture. Even now, Lin Xian knew he could forcibly override her joints and actuators if she made a move.
Kiki snorted. “Exactly. What’s there to negotiate? You don’t even have defenses. If your people hadn’t sabotaged the tracks, we wouldn’t be stuck here. You experimented on survivors too. You people are f***ing monsters. Why should we spare you?”
Her words struck a nerve. A’Bai clenched his fists, his face grim beside Ning Jing.
Lu Xingchen looked into the hive pit. “This place... looks like an oven. Set it alight and it’ll burn forever.”
Grace’s face remained stoic, her tone flat. “The Eternal Backup Warehouse is not located within the Zero Element Center. You might find it—but you won’t be able to take anything.”
“Why not?” Lin Xian asked. “We made it this far. We can take what we want.”
“Because you do not have time to both destroy the center, locate the warehouse, and escape safely.”
Lin Xian’s eyes narrowed. “Time? What do you mean?”
Grace explained, “Yijin City is under full Polar Night coverage. According to Crimson’s Observatory, the Star Abyss Mycelium Network enters an active state every day, triggered by the Dark Tides, and remains active for nine hours. When it ends, the Sky Mushroom Towers release massive quantities of unknown fungal energy, attracting large numbers of Eerie Entities into Yijin City. We interpret this as a form of ‘feeding behavior.’ The current active cycle has lasted six hours and fifteen minutes. That means… you have two hours and forty-five minutes left.”
Everyone’s expression shifted drastically.
“What?!”
“A swarm of Eerie Entities is coming to Yijin City?!”
Lin Xian frowned. “So your ‘evacuation’ plan—this is what you meant?”
“Yes,” Grace confirmed. She projected a large holographic display, showing data from the Crimson Observatory. The Soul Wave readings were off the charts—Yijin City was on the verge of being overrun.
“You’re pressuring us,” Lin Xian said.
“From Grace’s perspective,” she replied, “you have no better options. My terms do not infringe upon your interests. Destroying the Zero Element Center or Crimson Members serves no purpose beyond emotional release. If you intend to act, I suggest using the exterior station’s emergency passage to return to the surface quickly.”
“Captain Lin,” Ning Jing looked at him with a questioning gaze.
Lin Xian gave a small nod. Grace’s offer was basically free benefits. The people in the pods weren’t his concern—but something about this felt off. He stayed cautious.
“I accept your terms. But how can I trust you’re not lying? How do I know the Eternal Backup Warehouse isn’t a trap?”
Beeeep—
Just then, a drone flew toward them and landed. Its hatch opened, revealing a device similar to a secure data drive.
“This contains coordinates to the warehouse, a joint-access key, and the safe evacuation plan. Follow the hidden route for secure transfer.”
Kiki grabbed it with Telekinesis, linked it to her portable terminal. A full 3D holographic map of Yijin City unfolded, revealing a complex underground rail network. One hidden line led from Crimson Pharmaceuticals directly to the Zero Element Center—and onward to a secret underground entrance beneath a freight terminal outside the city.
“I knew it!” Ning Jing’s eyes lit up. “There’s no way they used public subways to haul heavy equipment. That freight tunnel’s the real route!”
“Exactly!” Kiki nodded, then frowned. “Wait a sec—how do you know we’re a train crew?”
Grace replied, “My records show: Lin Xian, captain of the Infinite Train Convoy. Additionally, Crimson’s underground network has access to your data.”
“So Crimson still has people in Yijin City?”
“No,” Grace answered. “After initiating the Hibernation Protocol, all external staff and researchers were withdrawn.”
Luo Yang leaned in and whispered to Lin Xian, “Captain, doesn’t this feel suspicious? She’s handing us all her cards. Isn’t she worried we’ll just betray her?”
“Agreed,” Lu Xingchen said. “Feels off.”
“Easy fix.” Lin Xian took the key from Kiki, patted Lu Xingchen on the shoulder, and whispered something in his ear.
Lu Xingchen’s eyes widened.
“Understood,” he replied. Then turned toward the glass wall and unleashed a Fire Fist—
Fwoosh!
A silver figure flashed forward, grabbing Lu Xingchen’s wrist just in time—
Boom!
A burst of fire erupted in the control hall. Lu Xingchen looked up and saw Grace, who had intercepted him with impressive speed. Her mechanical arm raised, a plasma cannon forming at her wrist.
“Protocol Two: No destruction of the hive or harm to Crimson Members. Your actions are a threat. I will—”
Click—CRACK!
Her sentence was cut off. Her entire body seized up—her joints locked. The plasma cannon powered down.
Mechanical Control!
BAM!
Before Grace could figure out what was happening, Ning Jing dashed forward and slammed a brutal punch into her face. The force sent her flying like a missile, crashing through a massive machine—sparks flew everywhere.
