Chapter 130: root (3)
130 – root (3)
In the silent blue space, characters of 1 and 0 formed within the black floor, drifting out like snowflakes, quietly rising upward like bubbles from the depths of the sea.
Lin Xun reached out, grasping only empty air. He looked down again—the black ground seemed like an endless void, the entire blue space as if the sole existence within boundless chaos, quietly constructed here.
The system did not answer his question, but Glax had already finished loading.
This was Lin Xun’s favorite language; it achieved the ultimate in simplicity. Sometimes Lin Xun wondered whether he felt his programming skills were poor because he had been spoiled by Glax, making him no longer accustomed to the cumbersome syntax of other languages.
Of course, Glax also had its flaws—it came with an intelligent auto-correction feature. Everyone knew that artificial intelligence and artificial stupidity were synonyms—sometimes, the auto-correction would turn your original mistake into another mistake. It was an endearing flaw, not entirely intolerable.
Lin Xun lowered his head, smiled, and entered Glax.
In an instant, an illusory galaxy flowed across the screen—Galaxy, a romantic and distant name. The person who gave it this name perhaps harbored some deep affection. But Lin Xun always thought of the brilliant river of stars in the distant sky from his dream tonight, sitting on a rooftop with someone, watching the stars.
However, that seemed like a thing of the past.
He opened the folder named “L,” which had long been filled with the entire files of a project named “Goddess of the Luo River.”
The Heavenly Dao gave birth to all things, thus creating the myriad flowers, trees, and living beings between heaven and earth. Humans could also create—legend had it that predecessors in the Tribulation Transcendence stage of the cultivation world could manifest billions of avatars, revive the dead, and restore flesh to bones. With just a point of a finger, withered wood could flourish, fallen flowers could bloom anew, and living beings could be enlightened into spirits. Lin Xun was no match for those high-level predecessors and ancestors; he could only use computer language to write an independent intelligence. Perhaps the Heavenly Dao would be especially merciful and recognize him as capable of reaching the threshold of Tribulation Transcendence.
He methodically configured each module—this process was all too familiar to him. The System Space also operated quickly, so in about ten minutes, the entire Goddess of the Luo River was installed within the System Space.
Lin Xun pressed the start button. A blue progress bar appeared, smoothly advancing forward, successfully reaching one hundred percent.
“Hi, I am the Goddess of the Luo River.”
The opening message appeared on the screen.
Lin Xun turned to look at the task interface.
After reaching the Soul Division stage, the system automatically opened the main quest “Reach Tribulation Transcendence,” but the progress bar had always remained at zero percent because Lin Xun had never written the corresponding program.
But the Goddess of the Luo River was no ordinary program—it was a complete, fully functional, highly autonomous artificial intelligence system.
Sure enough, the progress bar suddenly brightened and then rapidly surged upward!
In just a fraction of a second, the progress bar filled to the brim.
At that very moment, the system’s background sound echoed from all directions.
“Main Quest: ‘Reach Tribulation Transcendence’ completed.”
“System preparing, please wait.”
“Quest Rewards: Sect Territory Level 1, Sect Funds 2000, Spiritual Power 200, Magical Artifact Level 1.”
Territory level, funds, and Spiritual Power were all standard rewards for main quests, something Lin Xun had grown accustomed to, but the Magic Tool Level 1 still made him raise an eyebrow, somewhat curious about how his keyboard would change after this.
Just then, the system continued to announce: “Rewards are being distributed. Please wait.”
“Hey,” Lin Xun called out.
The system didn’t respond.
Lin Xun continued, “You still haven’t given me the territory and funds rewards for the Nascent Soul and Soul Division stages. Including today’s, you owe me a lot of money.”
The system spoke.
“System busy. Please try again later.”
—Here we go again.
After a soft chuckle, Lin Xun rested his chin on his hand and stared at the screen, his expression gradually turning serious.
“So,” he said, “your authority in this world is limited too. You can’t just give me whatever you want.”
“System busy. Please try again later.”
“That time I asked you what you wanted to help me do, you said you’d help me shatter the void and ascend on the spot… But if you can’t even give me money, how can you help me ascend?”
This time, the system didn’t respond. Lin Xun initially thought it had crashed, but three seconds later, the screen in front of him suddenly went dark.
On the black screen, a single word slowly appeared.
“Can.”
“Hah,” Lin Xun said, “You really are alive.”
He felt like he should laugh, but couldn’t bring himself to, only saying, “But you’ll have to pay a price too, won’t you?”
The system didn’t answer.
“You don’t give me funds and territory directly, waiting for real-world opportunities instead—is it because directly distributing them would defy real-world logic and risk exposure?” Lin Xun said calmly, “Who… are you afraid of being discovered by?”
The system still didn’t answer. Lin Xun slowly lowered his head, almost whispering to himself, “That time in the hospital, when I was attacked by the demonic creature, you were damaged. So, the demonic creatures keep trying to get close to me because they want to destroy you, right? If you’re destroyed, I won’t be able to ascend?”
“I don’t know what the demonic creatures are, but he’s connected to them and can control them. He knows what the demonic creatures are doing.” His voice grew softer, a little hoarse and trembling with bitterness. “Is it because he won’t let me leave?”
He asked many questions.
But the system didn’t answer a single one.
Even the black screen gradually brightened, returning to its normal interface.
The mechanical voice sounded again.
“Main Quest: ‘Shatter the Void’ initiated.”
“Quest Progress: 0.”
“Quest Hint: None.”
Shatter the void, shatter the void.
Lin Xun gently traced his finger over the progress bar, which read zero.
Then, he stayed there for a long time, as if treating it as an escape from reality, until he felt enough time had passed. He walked to the quest panel, claimed the small sword representing the magic tool level upgrade, and then left the space, opening his eyes.
Zhi Zhen was curled up asleep on his lap. Seeing him wake, it also opened its eyes and sat up to look at him.
Zhi Zhen wasn’t large, but it still had some weight. When its four paws pressed against his legs, Lin Xun felt a slight itch. He picked the cat up. “Not mad at me anymore?”
Zhi Zhen’s reply was utterly devoid of warmth: “Meow.”
Lin Xun kissed its thin ear, placed it in the back seat, then unzipped his backpack and took out the keyboard. Its appearance hadn’t changed at all.
Lin Xun held the keyboard in his hands, focusing his intent—the keyboard gradually faded, and a long sword appeared in his grasp. This time, he could see the change.
The sword had grown considerably heavier. Originally a half-meter-long gray shortsword, it had now elongated, its gray blade stretching and thinning to reveal a metallic sheen, sharp as an icicle. Visually, the blade appeared extremely thin. Lin Xun did not run his fingers along it, for given its sharpness, even a light touch would likely draw blood.
—Blood.
Aside from its lengthening, a faint crimson glow now encircled the entire blade, though it did not appear sinister, merely solemn and lethal. The hilt, where the hand gripped, felt much rougher than before, now adorned with scale-like carvings, likely to increase friction and provide a steadier hold.
Simultaneously, subtle changes seemed to emanate from the longsword—a faint ripple in the air, something sword cultivators might call “sword intent” or “sword Qi,” capable of enhancing the power of sword techniques and extending their lethal range.
Lost in thought, Lin Xun sheathed the sword. Three minutes later, the car stopped, and they arrived at their destination. Lin Xun easily found Officer Cao’s office. Officer Cao’s attitude toward him remained as amiable as a spring breeze, and Lin Xun’s address of “brother” grew even more affectionate.
Led by Officer Cao, they went through several procedures and obtained permission to access information and various records. The Skynet Project and the nationwide network of citizens’ personal information were essential tools for maintaining public security. With the photo provided by Xiaoyaozi and the advanced facial recognition system, they quickly matched it to a man registered in Sichuan, surnamed Yang, fifty-six years old, who, surprisingly, was the owner of a pharmaceutical sales company.
—No, after reviewing the company’s complete profile, Lin Xun concluded it was nothing legitimate—a herbal health supplement company operating under a facade, its materials filled with nonsense like “quantum healing,” “human magnetic fields,” and “acid-base balance,” clearly targeting the elderly. Nevertheless, the company was sizable, and this Sword Sect master could be considered somewhat successful in his career. Though he couldn’t compare to Old Man Huo with his fifty properties or Xiaoyaozi who owned a 5A-rated scenic area, he could at least manage to support his disciples, albeit with questionable quality among them.
As for his whereabouts, they were laid bare within the information recording system—indeed, the socialist public security framework surpassed the formations of the cultivation world.
Two days ago, this Senior Yang had taken a high-speed train to the capital. After spending a day in the distant suburbs, his hotel check-in records placed him at a five-star hotel in the city center.
Lin Xun raised an eyebrow slightly.
As fate would have it, this hotel looked all too familiar to him—it was right across from the Galaxy Building.