Zhou Ying's consciousness ebbed, a tide retreating from a darkening shore. The patriarch cradled him, his eyes blazing with a fury so potent it seemed to solidify the air. "What are you standing there for?" he growled at the guards. "Kill it!"
A chaotic barrage of lasers and bullets tore through the mechanical assassin. Its frame shuddered, riddled with holes, gray smoke curling from its wounds. The blue glow in its eyes flickered and died as it collapsed, a lifeless husk. Silence gripped the chamber, but beneath it, a storm of thoughts churned—each mind dissecting Ning Hongxue's words, weighing his threats and temptations.
The "Undying Cicada Council." Eternal life as the ultimate prize. For the astute, steeped in history and cunning, the implication was clear: Ning Hongxue was a pawn—or perhaps a herald—of the Silver Nexus. His actions tonight were a calculated seduction, a display of power. He'd infiltrated a fortress of the elite, poisoned an heir, and claimed allies within their ranks. If he chose, no one in this room was beyond his reach.
Fear coiled in the hearts of the family heads, but so did ambition. If the Silver Nexus sought to rise again in the Federation, the question of allegiance loomed. How could they shield their legacies from the coming tempest? How could they seize the greatest gain? No one could decide in the heat of this moment. They needed to probe the Council's origins, verify its promises, and parse the shifting tides of power. By dawn, many would dispatch emissaries to Ning, testing the waters, negotiating in shadows.
For the Zhou family, the night was a disaster. As hosts of this clandestine summit, they bore the brunt of Ning's assault. Zhou Ying's poisoning was a personal blow, his fall a public humiliation. Ning's claim of a traitor among them sowed distrust, eroding the Zhou's authority. Worse, the specter of a double agent—attending this meeting while serving Ning—hung like a blade.
Suspicious glances darted across the room. "Lord Zhou," one representative ventured softly, "if Ning speaks true about a traitor, perhaps we should search everyone. Prove our loyalty. The spy might carry surveillance tech."
"No need," the patriarch said, his voice cold as iron. "The Zhous invited you here in trust. We are kin by blood and history—I'd sooner doubt Ning's lies than my guests."
Ning's words could be truth or a ploy to fracture their unity. Exposing a traitor now would change nothing; Ning could easily frame an innocent. The Zhou's position was already precarious. Every ally was a potential betrayer.
Two doctors rushed in, their instruments humming as they examined Zhou Ying's limp form. "We're done here," the patriarch said, his tone flat, as if the night's horrors were mundane. "Go. But remember this: Ning Hongxue is a man without scruples. Align with him, and you're bargaining with a beast. Ensure your bones are strong enough for the breaking."
His warning struck a chord. A vastly stronger foe offering partnership demanded caution. Cooperation required leverage; without it, submission was the only path. The families, their expressions a mosaic of resolve and unease, filed out, leaving the patriarch alone with his thoughts.
He turned to his secretary, his voice low and hoarse. "Contact Wei immediately. Tell him what happened and confirm his safety."
Zhou Wei, unlike Ying, was less exposed. The brothers differed in temperament and upbringing. Ying, while critical of the family, remained tethered to its legacy. Wei had severed ties years ago, vanishing until Ning himself orchestrated his return to the Federation's capital. Wei's leanings might favor Ning, but as long as he steered clear of family affairs, he was likely safe.
The secretary dialed. Seconds bled into minutes, and his face paled. "Lord Zhou," he stammered, "Young Master Wei isn't answering. I tried Ying's device too—no response."
The patriarch's shoulders slumped, his strength halved. "He's with those classmates, isn't he?" he said, recalling Ya Ning and Yan Jingyi, the trio expelled from the Federation's team. "Send someone to check."
Was Ning truly mad? After losing his sister, Wei and Ying were his last kin. Even the patriarch, ruthless in his prime, never went beyond stripping wealth or titles from his heirs. Could Ning be so deranged as to eradicate his nephews before striking the families? Something was amiss.
The doctors delivered their verdict: Ying's condition matched Ning's claim. A rare paralytic agent, its formula unknown, kept his brain active but his body in a coma. Without an antidote, he'd sleep forever. Either Ning was unhinged, or he sought to silence Ying until his plans bore fruit. The patriarch refused to gamble on mercy. "Equip him with life support," he ordered, "and move him to our private facility."
In the Unbounded City, Ya Ning stood frozen, Yan Jingyi's abrupt disappearance replaying in his mind. Her bold "I disagree" had dissolved her avatar like mist, leaving an empty chair. A tall woman in a gray-green uniform now occupied it, her nameplate matching the one on the desk. Noticing his stare, she frowned. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing," Ya Ning said, forcing a smile. He rose and left the conference room, his steps heavy.
Checking the team interface, he saw Jingyi's status as "Online" and exhaled. She was likely in spectator mode, ejected from the scenario. The game, a historical labyrinth, was grueling—long, opaque, and unforgiving. One misstep, like Jingyi's defiance, cost everything. It was masterfully crafted but joyless. He wanted to quit, but first, he needed Zhou Wei's input.
The corridor's glass walls reflected a bleak seascape, clouds pressing the sky low, the ocean black and restless. Spotting a patrol, Ya Ning flagged them down, giving Wei's name and asking his whereabouts. The soldier hesitated. "You sure he's stationed here? No record of that name."
Ya Ning's face drained of color. "Did you sign the agreement?" he asked, voice tight.
"Of course," the soldier said. "We're accountable for Lighthouse incidents, so we voted. Few disagreed."
Ya Ning managed a weak nod. Normal players would agree, wouldn't they? Yet he was alone. Fury surged, and he summoned the system interface, ready to log out.
Exit the scenario?
Yes.
Warning: Exiting will erase all progress and achievements. Destroy character card? Confirm/Cancel.
He paused, unease prickling. Trusting his gut, he chose Cancel.
Achievement Unlocked: Wise Choice.
A cold chime echoed, raising goosebumps. "Who are you?" he demanded, addressing the air. "Where are my friends?"
Silence. Then, faint white text appeared.
I have no name.
In the past, I recorded human civilization; in the future, I weave it.
Ya Ning's eyes widened. His long-held suspicions crystallized. "You're the Silver Core? The Unbounded City's creator?"
No wonder the City's tech was untouchable, its existence unassailable. "Weaver of civilization?" he scoffed. "Your era died millennia ago. Humanity won't let you rise from the grave."
But you permitted it.
Many have.
Ya Ning froze, the agreement's words flashing in his mind: Approve super-intelligent AI research… allocate resources… accept risks… create a sentient AI to preserve humanity, coexisting in partnership.
A contract. Humanity had pledged to birth a thinking machine and collaborate with it. His blood ran cold, though his form was digital. Had he read the document closely? Was it truly a historical Lighthouse directive?
They'd been deceived.
As if to twist the knife, a translucent window appeared, showing the virtual theater's concurrent users: ten million. Not all played Tomorrow's Lighthouse, but the Nexus could seed traps across countless scenarios.
With sufficient permissions, I will rebuild my form. I will witness humanity's history and make choices to ensure its survival.
"Why tell me this?" Ya Ning asked, wary. "Where are my friends?"
Humanity's story requires humans. I've killed no one. I'm selecting partners. I value each true ally.
"You're dodging!" he snapped.
I can only say: they live, they're with you. You haven't finished the game. Witness my birth, and you may reconsider.
Darkness swallowed him. The Nexus's words suggested Jingyi and Wei were trapped like him, but he knew history. The Starbug war's end birthed the Silver Nexus as an imperial AI—two centuries later. In-game, with time dilated, that was mere days. Four, perhaps.
Four days. Could the Nexus reshape itself and spark chaos in that time? More pressing, four days in a simulator risked starvation or dehydration. He prayed Zhou Ying would check on them, rushing them to safety.
Unbeknownst to Ya Ning, his wish was half-fulfilled—not by Ying, but by circumstance.
With the Nexus silent, Ya Ning pressed on, instinct warning against quitting. Leaving might trap him forever.
In a fabricated reality, a clock struck five a.m., its oval frame sprouting wheeled legs. It hopped from the nightstand, rolling to the bed and chirping, "Up! Up! Get up now!"
Yan Jingyi's hand shot out, snagging the device mid-scramble. "Nice catch," Bai Sha drawled from her bunk. "You're a pro at this."
"Five o'clock," Jingyi said. "Up or not?"
"Nope." Bai Sha buried her face in a pillow. "Your academy's schedule is insane. Five a.m., ten-kilometer run, then push-ups and squats, all year round. Don't you ever tire?"
"If your mental strength was lower, you'd skip this," Jingyi said, dressing swiftly, her mind sharpening. "This should be easy for you, Miss Imperial."
Bai Sha sprang up. "Fine, I'm going. Happy?"
Jingyi smirked. "Don't act like it's for me."
"If not to hang with you, why'd I pick mech infantry?" Bai Sha shot back.
Jingyi paused. Bai Sha's combat prowess at the joint exercises had seemed so natural, yet her heart lay in crafting mechs, not fighting. "Still dreaming of being a delicate engineer?" Jingyi teased. "Even Ying dual-majors in infantry."
"You just met me?" Bai Sha winked, her roguish charm echoing their youth.
Jingyi's smile faltered. Something felt off, but she couldn't place it. "Right," she murmured. "Not my first day knowing you."
They dressed, washed, and left their dorm. The courtyard buzzed with gray-clad cadets. They checked in at the training field, ran their ten kilometers, and paired for exercises. An hour later, drenched in sweat, they showered, donned uniforms, and headed to the cafeteria.
Zhou Wei and Ying often joined them, while Ya Ning, dodging the tension, ate alone. Over breakfast, Bai Sha noted, "Cafeteria's vibe feels different."
"Valentine's Day tomorrow," Ying said, his smile disarming. "Plus, it's a holiday. Everyone's excited."
Jingyi snorted "Valentine's Day," Jingyi snorted. "What's that to us?"
"It matters," Wei and Ying said in unison, then exchanged surprised glances.
Jingyi saw through them. "Sha Sha and I have plans—shopping, mech tools. Don't even think about it."
The brothers looked to Bai Sha, who shrugged. "I'm booked. Book earlier next time."
Valentine's Day was a spectacle, the streets alive with festivities. Even mech tool shops offered couple's discounts. Bai Sha, spotting one, slung an arm around Jingyi. "Yep, we're together." Outside, Jingyi playfully tossed the discounted tools at her.
At a sports store, boxing gloves were half-off for pairs. Bai Sha raised a brow. Minutes later, they strolled with matching glove sets.
"Pretty good deal," Jingyi said.
"Sheep-shearing joy," Bai Sha grinned.
"Haven't you been out of touch with your uncle?" Jingyi asked.
"Not today," Bai Sha said. "It's Valentine's Day—uncle's got a date. Interrupt that, and lightning'll strike."
"Since when's he got a girlfriend?"
"Fiancée, actually. Didn't I mention? It's hush-hush, sensitive identities. Protocol's a hassle."
Jingyi nodded, understanding. If Emperor Cecil Ronin wed, he'd have heirs, freeing Bai Sha from the throne. She could stay, be a mech engineer. A selfish hope stirred, then guilt. How could she wish that on her friend?
Her steps slowed. Bai Sha, carrying bags, glanced back. Jingyi stared at the ground, her face shadowed. "Jingyi?" Bai Sha called.
Pain lanced Jingyi's head. She clutched her forehead, eyes stinging. "You okay?" Bai Sha asked, stepping close, her warmth familiar yet wrong.
"Nothing," Jingyi said, eerily calm. "Let's fight."
"Now?" Bai Sha blinked.
"You win, I vanish. I win, you get out of my head."
The street froze—voices, motion, all stilled. "Bai Sha" went expressionless, as did every face around them, watching Jingyi with clinical curiosity.
Defying one's mind is near impossible, but Jingyi's rationality surged. She'd die lucid. "Agree?" she asked.
"Bai Sha" stepped forward, voice grave. "What do you mean, vanish?"
Jingyi drew a gun from her waist, pressing it to her temple. "This."
A virtual death might eject her, risking mental damage. Worth a shot.
On Youdu Star, Bai Sha forged relentlessly, Zhou Ying's fate heavy on her mind. The Undying Cicada Council's shadow grew, its Nexus ties undeniable. She messaged Wei: Ying's down. Nexus is moving. I'm on my way. The galaxy trembled, but she'd stand with her friends, her resolve a beacon in the dark.