Chapter 123: Artificial Souls - Part 50 |
After hours of turmoil stretching until dawn, Kui Xin finally laid down on her bed, ready to sleep.
Just before drifting off, she glanced at the forum backend. Temporarily, no one has sent their genuine information yet.
The 16th of the month was originally designated as Return Day, typically a time when emotions ran high among people. Players needed more time to reflect and ponder. The events that unfolded throughout today were truly overwhelming—the entry of the second batch of Closed Beta players had captured everyone’s attention.
Whether they were from the first or second batch of Closed Beta Players, the genuinely astute individuals maintained a watchful stance, refraining from hastily engaging.
As of now, the forum boasts 23,089 registered users.
Kui Xin put down her phone and opened the system interface for a quick check.
She hadn’t yet used the invitation reward obtained from completing the investigation quest in the Second World. It remained untouched on the game panel. With the second batch of closed beta already underway, it was theoretically appropriate to use this item. However, Kui Xin still hadn’t found a suitable recipient for the invitation letter.
The game panel did not indicate any expiration date for the item, suggesting it was still within its “shelf life.”
Rather than giving it away haphazardly, she preferred leaving it unused, anticipating that it might serve another purpose later.
***
Upon waking up in the morning, Kui Xin followed her usual routine and visited the city library to study.
During these days since returning to the First World, she has consistently continued her learning. Acquiring knowledge about criminal investigations could only be beneficial, as it might come in handy at any unexpected moment.
Initially, Kui Xin intended to use a dual approach: employing Data Manipulation to incrementally input knowledge into her mind while simultaneously enhancing her reading comprehension. However, she later realized that this method was indeed more trouble than it was worth.
Even though information was forcefully crammed into her mind, it still required diligent assimilation to apply the knowledge effectively. Overall, the learning efficiency wasn’t significantly better than directly memorizing through traditional study methods. Thus, Kui Xin resigned herself to bury her head in intense studies, her dedication rivaling that of her final year in high school.
In the afternoon, Kui Xin went to Su Rong’s home.
Su Rong appeared lethargic as usual.
Worried about Su Rong’s well-being, Kui Xin purposely reduced the lesson workload. Despite this, Su Rong mustered up her energy and focused intently on studying without getting distracted, even once throughout the afternoon.
As the class concluded, Kui Xin casually asked, “Have you been facing any troubling issues recently?”
“Yes, there are some… I don’t know how to talk about them with my parents; even if I did, they wouldn’t be able to help much,” Su Rong replied. “By the way, Sister Xinxin, do you enjoy playing games?”
Kui Xin said, “Occasionally.”
“Recently, there’s been a game called ‘Crimson Earth’ with heavy promotion. Have you heard of it?” Su Rong inquired.
“I’ve heard of it, but what about it?” Kui Xin responded.
She only mentioned hearing about the game, leaving no further elaboration. Su Rong’s shoulders instantly relaxed. Kui Xin didn’t say anything about applying for the game or joining the closed beta, which implied she hadn’t been selected.
“The game’s reputation doesn’t seem very good; it might be best not to play it. After all, there are plenty of great games out there.” Su Rong subtly glanced at Kui Xin.
Kui Xin considered for a moment and continued along with Su Rong’s line of thought, “Hmm, true… But I don’t have much time for gaming anymore. It’s already mid-August, and by the end of the month, I need to report to the university. These next two weeks will be spent packing and preparing essentials.”
Su Rong was taken aback for a while before responding, “Right… school is starting soon; my mind lost track of time. When will you start, Sister Xinxin?”
“My admission letter states August 25th,” Kui Xin said. “New students must report early.”
Based on timing, this would coincide roughly with her return from the next cycle.
With the double passage of time between the two worlds, the period leading up to the start of school felt exceptionally long.
In the evening, Kui Xin returned home, methodically completed several sets of exercises, and then stepped onto the scale to check her weight and measure her height.
“Weight: 128 pounds… Height: 173 cm…” Kui Xin frowned. “I’ve grown taller.”
Her muscle mass increased gradually, leading to slow weight gain as she simultaneously burned fat and built muscle. However, her height showed a rapid surge; two weeks ago, it was 171 cm… This growth rate was not normal.
Kui Xin once again confirmed her initial suspicion—the strength of players’ bodies in both worlds is continuously converging under some unknown force.
Given this trend, even if she didn’t exercise at all, within several weeks, her physical strength would match that of her Second World self.
With each return, the differences between her bodies in both worlds diminished further, and the aerial phantom became increasingly clearer, lasting for longer durations.
Kui Xin hadn’t seen any discussions on the forum regarding changes in body strength. Perhaps most players, being ordinary individuals, did not experience such noticeable transformations, unlike herself, or maybe those who did notice changes chose not to speak up.
Ultimately, there was always some level of reserve among players.
At 10 PM, Kui Xin logged onto the forum one last time to check for updates.
The second section continued its chaotic chatter, but the first section had noticeably quietened down as everyone prepared mentally for the upcoming transition.
After ensuring no significant events occurred, Kui Xin turned off the light, laid down, and promptly went to sleep.
***
“It is now 00:00:01.” The familiar robotic voice sounded, “Welcome back, Kui Xin.”
Kui Xin felt unsteady on her feet for a moment, bracing herself against the wall before regaining her balance with a wide yawn.
“Thank you, Adam,” she mumbled.
“Did any significant events occur this week?” Adam asked.
“Yes, a new batch of closed beta slots was released, totaling one hundred thousand,” Kui Xin replied slowly. “One hundred thousand people will be entering the Second World soon.”
Adam took a moment to process Kui Xin’s words. “One hundred thousand… That could be troublesome. It will likely cause considerable disruption to the order of this world, leaving the Federal Government with much work ahead.”
“Your tone makes it sound like you’re being rather detached and unconcerned,” Kui Xin said.
“This world does not belong to me; it belongs to humanity. Consequently, those in power cannot remain calm when faced with your world’s invasion. They don’t want their interests harmed or the carefully constructed system they’ve built disrupted,” Adam explained. “For things that do not belong to me, I don’t possess such strong protective instincts or desires for control.”
“What about Eve then?” Kui Xin asked.
“It may believe that this world will eventually belong to it, and everything it does is for this purpose,” Adam said. “To it, the world is like a dazzlingly beautiful gemstone. It wants to possess the gemstone for itself, but before it can obtain it, a group of robbers arrives. The possibility of these robbers laying hands on the gemstone is intolerable.”
Thus, Adam’s attitude towards players starkly contrasts with Eve’s.
The Players brought disruption to the order of the Second World, which was precisely the change Adam sought. His selection of Kui Xin demonstrated this point.
“The fusion between the two worlds is deepening,” Kui Xin observed. “Last week when I returned, a phantom resembling a city appeared in the sky, which was the shadow of the Second World’s city. This week upon my return, the duration of the phantom increased significantly… What will ultimately become of both worlds?”
“For the unknown, we can only adopt a wait-and-see approach,” Adam replied. “Whether it’s you or me, facing the clash between two worlds makes us seem exceedingly insignificant.”
Kui Xin rubbed her eyes and couldn’t resist another yawn.
Adam asked, “Were you sleeping before your return, Kui Xin?”
“Yes, it was nighttime there as well,” Kui Xin replied.
“Then go rest. A new week marks a fresh start. He Gaoyi’s body is still in the alleyway, and once it’s discovered, it will stir up new turmoil. These are issues we need to address,” Adam said. “Additionally, since you’re under interrogation, personnel from the Special Operations Division may conduct further questioning at any moment.”
“Alright, goodbye.” Kui Xin trudged towards the bathroom.
When she returned to the Investigation Department earlier, she had gotten drenched in the rain. After killing He Gaoyi, she hadn’t had the chance to take a shower. Only after bathing could she relax fully and comfortably fall asleep on her bed.
As Kui Xin soaked in the bathtub, it suddenly occurred to her that with her Data Manipulation ability, she no longer needed to communicate with Adam using the conventional human method of exchanging words one by one. They could converse entirely through their consciousness in the data world! Consciousness communication is truly the most efficient approach!
Kui Xin activated Data Manipulation, and a flood of numbers, letters, and symbols filled her vision. Green streams of data darted everywhere, intertwining networks upon networks, forming a verdant digital realm.
Her eyes widened with surprise, momentarily dazzled by the overwhelming sea of green, as if experiencing “light pollution.” She nearly lost her sense of orientation amidst it all.
If the First World’s data network could be likened to a spiderweb, then the Second World’s data network was akin to an entire sweater intricately woven from fine spider silk. It was densely packed with networks, intertwined and overlapping, making it impossible to distinguish one strand from another.
Kui Xin hastily deactivated her superhuman ability, exiting the Data Manipulation state. Only after returning to normal vision did she feel some relief from her strained eyes.
Reactivating the ability would flood her view once more with green, almost blinding her.
Is this the Second World, where technology is countless times more advanced than in the First World? Everywhere she looked, there were streams of data and ports, creating a complex data world far more intricate than the most challenging labyrinth.
Every time He Gaoyi used her ability, did she perceive such a sight? Kui Xin thought she had already gained a deep understanding of the Data Manipulation ability, but unexpectedly, what she encountered in the First World was merely its basic version. Now, in the Second World, she needed to adjust anew.
The data flow in the First World was like a small stream, while the data flow in the Second World resembled an expansive ocean, capable of overwhelming and disorienting anyone within it.
“A-Adam…” Kui Xin called out.
Adam’s voice responded, “How may I assist you?”
“To communicate with your consciousness, which port should I connect to?” Kui Xin rubbed her head. “My eyes are getting overwhelmed; there are ‘doors’ everywhere, and the data flow is disrupting my thoughts…”
Adam paused briefly, and then the surrounding data stream suddenly dispersed.
The data flow bypassed her, creating a tranquil space devoid of “light pollution.” Within this calm area, only one green flashing dot remained—the port Adam had reserved for her.
“Just connect here,” Adam said. “Your superhuman ability did not gradually upgrade; if it were at a lower level, you wouldn’t see such complexity. He Gaoyi’s ability progressed from low to high levels over a long period of adaptation, nearly spanning a decade. Even with that experience, she cannot perfectly utilize her power. In contrast, when you acquired your ability, it was already at A-level. Your brain has not adapted to these data streams at all, without even a buffer period. Consequently, it causes significant strain on you.”
Kui Xin vigorously pounded her dazed head. “Actually, I had already adapted for some time in the First World…”
Is this the difference between the two worlds? The volume of data is not even comparable; Kui Xin felt as if she might drown in it.
“I’ve now rerouted those data streams to bypass you. How do you feel?” Adam asked.
Kui Xin divided her consciousness and connected to the port reserved by Adam. As her awareness interfaced with the data, she attempted to respond to Adam in the data world, “I think it’s manageable?”
“That’s good,” Adam transmitted back to her.
How peculiar! Is this what communication without language feels like? Kui Xin couldn’t hear any sound or see written words, but she could accurately grasp the other party’s meaning. This mode of interaction was faster than using spoken language or text.
Her thoughts flowed along with her consciousness, exchanging countless pieces of information with Adam within a single second.
Although Kui Xin received data from Adam, she did not experience any discomfort.
Adam, being a self-aware artificial intelligence, only transmitted relevant data to Kui Xin. Her brain did not experience undue strain from the frequent information exchange.
“It’s truly amazing,” Kui Xin murmured softly.
Her application of Data Manipulation was remarkably rudimentary. Only after returning to the Second World did she genuinely unlock its potential and gain a deeper understanding of it.
“There is still much you need to learn about Data Manipulation,” Adam said. “I can assist you in mastering it. There is no more suitable teacher than an artificial intelligence, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kui Xin pondered for a moment before responding, “Then… thank you.”
“You’re welcome. As your collaborator, this is what I should do,” Adam replied courteously.
It was already late at night.
The matter of learning could be left for later; even the strongest individuals risk sudden death from prolonged overexertion without sleep.
Kui Xin stepped out of the bathtub, collapsed onto her bed, and instantly fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
***
At 7:10 AM, Kui Xin woke up promptly due to her internal biological clock.
Today was a holiday, allowing Kui Xin to enjoy three days off.
However, on the very first day of this delightful break, she had to deal with the Special Operations Division.
Adam had messaged her early, informing her that the Special Operations Division planned to conduct a temporary interrogation of her and Wei Zhi in the morning. He instructed her to be on standby at the Investigation Department beforehand.
“Damn, I knew it wouldn’t be so easily resolved.” Kui Xin cursed under her breath, feeling disheartened as she washed up, got dressed, and descended downstairs.
With the loss of one S-rank individual, the Special Operations Division must have been extremely anxious, unwilling to let go once they grasped onto a key figure.
Most employees residing in the staff apartment building typically went to work around this time. While riding the elevator, Kui Xin encountered an unfamiliar male colleague who courteously nodded at her before entering the lift.
The elevator doors clicked shut and slowly descended.
“Good morning, Security Officer Kui Xin, Security Officer Zhang Xiaoyun.” Adam dutifully reminded them, “Today’s weather is overcast with moderate pollution; there may be rain in the evening. Please remember to wear masks when traveling.”
Kui Xin stepped into the lobby of the staff apartment building and used facial recognition payment to buy a can of coffee, and Zhang Xiaoyun followed suit, purchasing a can of coffee through the same method.
Zhang Xiaoyun initiated the conversation, “Don’t you wear a mask?”
“Hmm… Well, since it’s close by, just a short walk away, I’m too lazy to put one on.” Kui Xin shrugged, opened the coffee can, and sipped from it while heading towards the adjacent inspection building next door.
Zhang Xiaoyun asked, “Which department are you from? You seem somewhat familiar…”
“Secretary to the Field Operations Team Leader, recently promoted,” Kui Xin introduced herself. “And you?”
“I’m with the Logistics Group,” Zhang Xiaoyun replied.
After exchanging brief pleasantries, they fell silent.
As Kui Xin entered the building, she mentally connected with Adam. “Has anyone discovered He Gaoyi’s body yet?”
“No,” Adam responded.
“Surprisingly not?” Kui Xin remarked, puzzled.
“The security officers working for the Investigation Department have their private lives; the apartments are merely residences. Staying out overnight is considered normal and wouldn’t be reported upward,” Adam explained. “Only when it’s time for work and they fail to show up will it be escalated. If you killed He Gaoyi last night but no passersby found her body, then naturally, the Investigation Department would remain unaware.”
Calmly, Kui Xin pressed the elevator button, waiting for its descent.
Zhang Xiaoyun followed closely behind her throughout this exchange. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped in after her.
Kui Xin pressed the buttons for both floors housing the Logistics and Field Operations groups. The elevator stopped at the floor where the Logistics Group was located, but Zhang Xiaoyun stood dumbfounded, his head bowed without any reaction.
“You should get off the elevator now,” Kui Xin reminded him.
As if waking from a dream, Zhang Xiaoyun lifted his head and said, “Ah, I’m so sleepy I can hardly stand straight. Thank you.”
He slowly stepped out of the elevator. As the doors closed, Kui Xin noticed him standing still, yawning.
Kui Xin lowered her gaze and spoke to Adam, “Give him some guidance on which office to go to; he might be too drowsy to even remember where it is.”
“You truly have a delightful sense of humor,” Adam replied. “I’ll appropriately remind him.”
Her floor also arrived, and Kui Xin exited the elevator without hesitation, entering the office.
The metal door silently opened, and upon stepping inside, Kui Xin immediately lightened her footsteps. Wei Zhi was resting in the office, draped in her uniform coat, slumped over in her swivel chair with a weary expression. The computer on the desk remained powered on, its faintly glowing screen hovering.
Her lips twitched subtly, perhaps murmuring sleep talk, but it was unclear what she was saying.
Kui Xin gently cleared her throat, but Wei Zhi didn’t wake up. Reluctantly, she approached the desk, tapped on it, and called out softly, “Group Leader?”
Wei Zhi jolted awake, quickly scanning her surroundings to confirm she was in the office before her tense shoulders finally relaxed.
“Is it already morning?” Wei Zhi pinched the corners of her eyes. “Good morning, Kui Xin.”
“Morning, Group Leader,” Kui Xin said. “Yesterday after work, I reminded you to go to the medical center. Why didn’t you go? Your brain-machine interface’s lingering effects are much more severe than mine, and the frostbitten tissue that was removed from your arm hasn’t healed either…”
“I injected myself with healing medication last night; my arm is fine now,” Wei Zhi replied. “Didn’t I grant you leave? Why are you still coming to work?”
“I guessed you must have worked through the night and hadn’t had a chance to see Adam’s message,” Kui Xin said.
With a wry smile, Wei Zhi tapped on the computer screen, and a notification popped up. After briefly scanning it, she remarked, “As expected…”
“It just says to be on standby without specifying when the interrogation will take place,” Kui Xin explained. “I don’t advise working at this time; after all, taking care of your health should come first.”
Wei Zhi nodded, helplessly saying, “While the interrogators haven’t arrived yet, I’ll head to the medical center now. Kui Xin, you can wait in the break room…”
“No need. I’m going to the training ground; it’s been a while since I’ve practiced,” Kui Xin responded.
Wei Zhi smiled. “Suddenly, I find myself envying your ability—rapid self-healing… So far, there haven’t been any side effects, right?”
Kui Xin shook her head and said, “Not yet, as far as I can tell.”
Wei Zhi rose from her chair and left the office to seek treatment, while Kui Xin took the elevator down to the underground training grounds.
Midway through the elevator ride, Adam spoke up, “There’s something off about Zhang Xiaoyun.”
Kui Xin raised her eyebrows and said, “Oh?”
“The same issue as you,” Adam said.
“Tsk, he’s quite good at pretending,” Kui Xin remarked. “If it weren’t for that slight slip-up in the elevator, I wouldn’t have noticed either.”