Chapter 133: root(6)

Gazing at the distant Galaxy Tower standing tall, Lin Xun gently lowered his eyes.

—Yet the fingers gripping the sword hilt tightened even more.

Hot.

The hilt beneath his hand felt like volcanic lava.

At this very moment!

The ground beneath his feet trembled violently, causing him to stumble forward.

An earthquake—?

It seemed like one, yet not quite. The entire ground was indeed shaking intensely from side to side and up and down, buildings creaking and groaning, and it continued without pause. He turned to look at the sky, where dark clouds churned rapidly, and the air inexplicably grew stagnant, as if solidifying into a tangible entity, and… tension hung thickly.

The air rippled violently, as if something monumental was about to occur—then he saw the Concealment Talismans fail, and the seniors materialized in the air.

Shen Ji Zi’s compass spun wildly. With eyes tightly shut, his lips moved rapidly, chanting incantations no one could understand, before he suddenly opened his eyes!

“Yan Yangzi has defied the heavens, attempting to deceive the celestial order and steal the divine artifact. The divine artifact is connected to the Heavenly Dao, and the Heavenly Dao has been destabilized!”

Lin Xun: “So what will happen?”

Shen Ji Zi replied, “The Heavenly Dao is the foundation of the mortal realm’s barrier. Once the Heavenly Dao becomes unstable, the mortal barrier will also weaken. If this drags on for even a short while, demonic creatures may seize the opportunity to invade!”

Lin Xun gritted his teeth, no longer focusing on Yan Yangzi. His right hand shot toward the hilt of the Red Sky Dragon Sparrow Sword!

The temperature beneath his hand was like volcanic lava.

He had already drawn this sword three times.

If three times was the limit, could there be a fourth?

A searing pain radiated from his hand, but he ignored it, exerting force to lift the sword—

Suddenly, his vision blurred, shifting into an illusory, grayish darkness, just as it had the last time he drew the sword.

Another voice echoed in his ear, clear and unmistakable—it was Wang Anquan, chattering incessantly.

“I plan to name Galaxy’s permission management system ‘Satellite.’ Its authentication is extremely strict; I’ve linked all Galaxy’s products into it. Everyone has unique identity information, and each identity level allows different levels of operations. Overall, I used a very complex structure, completed by three nested systems. The advantage is that it minimizes malicious access to the greatest extent. Let me put it this way… every operational entry point involving critical security issues is independent, and I’ve locked them all down. For example, if I need to access the Automated Driving System backend for maintenance, this request requires approval from Jia Gou, you, and Dong Jun—all at the same permission level—before the entry point opens and I can proceed. If even one person rejects it, my ID will be revoked. Let me explain these three systems in detail.”

“I don’t understand,” he heard his own voice say lazily. “If you go too deep, your terminology is too strange. Explain it in a more relatable way.”

“Do I really have to tell you a story?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me use an analogy. Our system is like a submarine, and hackers and malicious attacks are like seawater, constantly trying to flood into our submarine, okay?”

Lin Xun: “Okay.”

It was a simple analogy.

For ordinary users, the online world is a peaceful and serene Eden. They log into apps, use features, and log out. In this Eden, at most, minor disturbances like account theft or personal information leaks occur.

But that’s not the case. In the unseen depths of the cyber world, a company is like a lone submarine. The pressure in the deep sea is immense, with seawater surging from all sides, and the submarine’s hull is not particularly sturdy. Hacker attacks, malicious access—these things are like seawater, rushing to devour and crush, ultimately sinking the submarine, always ready to deliver the strongest blow.

What cybersecurity services aim to do is reinforce the submarine’s hull or add buffer layers to prevent it from flooding and sinking.

Wang Anquan said, “As for me, based on different functions, I’ve divided the interior of this submarine into thousands of compartments. Each compartment is separated by sturdy bulkhead doors, and each stores information of varying security levels. Crew members can move between compartments using their identity cards, but access to compartments depends on their clearance level. If someone tries to forcibly access a compartment they’re not authorized for, they’ll be terminated immediately.”

Lin Xun said, “I support that.”

Wang Anquan continued, “As for external attacks—if the hull fails to withstand a powerful assault from outside, a breach will open, and seawater will start flooding in—then my defense mechanism will activate. The compartment connected to that breach will be sealed off immediately, even filled solid, ensuring no other compartments are affected. So, in such an attack, only one of the thousands of compartments would be compromised.”

“And the highest-level administrative permissions are locked away in a few compartments at the very center of the submarine. They’re safe, too safe, resting easy without a worry.”

Applause broke out. Lin Xun clapped for Wang Anquan. “Such a massive project, so difficult to pull off—why haven’t I heard about this before?”

Wang Anquan replied, “Actually, I started working on it years ago. Remember, a few years back, when we were just messing around with that programming Cultivation game that eventually shut down—the one with the divine sword? Back then, I had you set up identity information. This has been a long-term plan all along. Basically, everything we’ve worked on over the years can seamlessly integrate into this system.”

“Anquan, you’re really something.”

“Of course I am,” Wang Anquan said. “When it comes to security, if Eagle’s team is number one, then I’d reluctantly rank myself as number two.”

Lin Xun asked, “Could Eagle hack your defense system?”

“To be honest,” Anquan said, “I don’t think it’s possible. In many critical areas, we’ve implemented self-destruct defenses.”

“Oh, right,” Wang Anquan added, as if suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t locked down the root permissions yet.”

Lin Xun raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Wang Anquan said, “Here, I’ll hand you the keyboard. You set the root password. I won’t know it, no one else will know it, and don’t tell Dong Jun either—that jerk won’t give me a raise.”

Lin Xun laughed.

Root, the super administrator.

A system can have many users and many administrators. The term “administrator,” as its literal meaning suggests, grants the authority to modify certain parts of the system.

But—the super administrator, this account is unique and singular, wielding the exclusive root permissions.

Root privileges are the most fundamental and supreme authority in a system, equivalent in status to the operating system itself. If a system were a kingdom, then root privileges would be the king’s scepter and crown. The super administrator with root privileges is a monarch above all others, capable of performing any operation on any object within the system, while also being unbound by any rules.

Lin Xun: “Such an important password… let me think about it first.”

“No need to make it too complicated, but it shouldn’t be too easy to guess either. You’re not allowed to use your boyfriend’s birthday,” Wang Anquan said. “You must memorize it in your own mind. Although I guarantee this system is absolutely secure, only your account or Dong Jun’s account can access the root account.”

Lin Xun naturally knew this. All of Galaxy’s products were governed by this privilege management system, so the importance of its root privileges was self-evident. It was essential to ensure the password remained as secure as possible.

He said, “…Let me think a bit more.”

Some time passed.

Wang Anquan: “You’ve been thinking for a long time.”

“I’m a bit indecisive. Really can’t use his birthday?” he said. “Then I’ll ask Dong Jun, but I won’t tell him what it’s for.”

Wang Anquan: “Whatever makes you happy.”

Lin Xun began typing.

At the top of the chat interface was the other person’s name or nickname. This person’s nickname was strange—just two letters.

Co.

Lo: Sweetheart! Is there any combination of letters or numbers that holds great significance for you?

Co: What do you need it for?

Lo: Studying your inner world…?

Co: .

Lo: I’ll give you a minute to think about it.

Co: Okay.

At that moment, Lin Xun’s consciousness suddenly drifted away. After a dizzying emptiness, his fingers tapped the Enter key on the keyboard.

He said to Wang Anquan, “Done.”

The clear scene gradually shattered into scattered fragments. A sharp ringing in his ears abruptly sounded, and a splitting headache surged through his mind. His fingers trembled, nearly throwing him back out from the immense force transmitted by the sword.

The Chi Xiao Long Que Sword let out a long cry.

Last time, last time it was the same—whenever critical information appeared, the Chi Xiao Long Que Sword would expel him, as if guarding some vital secret that must not be uncovered.

A meaningful string of characters, something of great importance to Dong Jun… what could it be?

Back then, what had his fingers typed on the keyboard?

Lin Xun stared blankly at the trembling hilt and the fierce flames blazing on the sword’s surface.

Just then, the ground shook once more!

Yan Yangzi suddenly opened his eyes and reached out to grab the Chi Xiao Long Que Sword!

The Chi Xiao Long Que Sword trembled more and more violently, the jade of its base creaking and cracking open a fissure. The world filled with a chilling, terrifying pressure. Lin Xun could barely breathe, as if suddenly plunged into the depths of the ocean thousands of meters below.

He knew Yan Yangzi was close to success.

He also knew he had reached his limit.

The amount of computational load a system could bear had its limits.

Exceeding this limit meant… a complete collapse. And Yan Yangzi, in his attempt to refine the Chi Xiao Long Que Sword, had demanded far too many computational resources from this world.

Beneath the overcast sky, fierce winds swept through the city. The heavens grew darker, lower, and denser. A blinding flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening thunderclap.

The disciple overseeing the Zhou Tian Star Array suddenly shouted, “Something is amiss in the Divine Land!”

Xiaoyaozi roared, “The mortal realm barrier is about to collapse!”

Even without their warning, Lin Xun’s pupils had already contracted sharply as he witnessed everything before him.

The air.

In the air before him, tiny, densely packed black fissures had torn open, everywhere, seemingly revealing a perilous, endless black void within.

He shifted his gaze forward and saw a massive, pitch-black fissure slowly spreading open across the busiest street in the city.

There was another to the left—at the center of Galaxy Square, a black eye had opened.

Not just these two…

To the right rear, left front, underground, in the sky—

The world he was in resembled a leaking ship’s cabin.

Suddenly, Lin Xun recalled the elders discussing the invasion of the demon realm, mentioning the worst possible outcome in six words:

“The Heavenly Way collapses, the mortal realm descends into chaos.”

Yan Yangzi’s movement to reach for his sword hilt slowed to a crawl in his eyes.

Lin Xun took a sharp breath, a longsword materializing in his hand as he thrust it straight toward Yan Yangzi’s palm once more!

Yan Yangzi’s eyes burned crimson like blood, his gaze snapping violently toward Lin Xun’s direction, the corner of his mouth twitching as if in disdain, before he calmly raised his palm to meet the attack!

The sword tip clashed with the palm, actually sparking with faint embers. Was Yan Yangzi’s skin like an impenetrable fortress? Was this what it meant to unite man and sword as one?

Lin Xun pressed his lips together, frantically drawing on the power of others he had converted into computational units, and pushed forward!

He knew that even among metals, there were differences in hardness. If so, why couldn’t he be the harder, sharper one?

Yan Yangzi slowly pushed his palm forward.

Lin Xun refused to yield an inch. At first, he was forced back several steps, but as he expanded his computational units, his Spiritual Power grew stronger, forcing Yan Yangzi’s palm back until—for a moment—they were evenly matched.

His eyes remained fixed on Yan Yangzi, his wrist joints turning white from excessive strain, aching as if torn, trembling uncontrollably.

But if he could just hold on, for another two minutes…

—Just at this critical moment!

The point where the sword tip and palm met suddenly shuddered violently!

All of Lin Xun’s strength was abruptly drained away in that instant!

And Yan Yangzi, facing him, also spat out a mouthful of blood.

Across the vast expanse of the Divine Land surrounding them, piercing, agonized wails suddenly rose and fell in waves. All the sounds flooded into Lin Xun’s eardrums at that moment, leaving his mind blank.

Lin Xun trembled as he turned his head, seeing a blinding black mist covering the ground below. Thousands upon thousands of black figures moved slowly, turning the entire world into a black sea. Within this sea, countless fissures slowly opened, demonic Qi flowing inexhaustibly. Every single person under his and Yan Yangzi’s control was tainted without exception, no longer theirs to command.

The mortal realm barrier had perhaps shattered completely. This was the true scene of the demon realm’s invasion.

But the Chixiao Longque Sword must be seized.

In a flash of thought, he twisted his wrist, changing the angle, and thrust toward Yan Yangzi’s left chest!

In that split second, Yan Yangzi’s left hand shot out like a serpent, seizing Lin Xun’s right wrist and yanking him violently forward.

The spot on Lin Xun’s right wrist where Yan Yangzi gripped felt as if it had been scorched by fire. Facing Yan Yangzi’s assault, every muscle in his body tensed, yet he found himself utterly powerless to resist.

Yan Yangzi’s right hand withdrew, clamping tightly around Lin Xun’s throat.

Lin Xun completely lost the ability to breathe, his vision suddenly plunging into darkness.

Yes… he thought, having lost all computing units, he had nothing left. But Yan Yangzi, due to his earlier resonance with the Chixiao Dragon Sparrow Sword, now carried the oppressive aura of divine weapon power.

Yan Yangzi stood up, his right hand brutally lifting him by the throat. His brain was severely deprived of oxygen, and colorful stars drifted before his eyes.

He closed his eyes and looked toward the program interface of the Chixiao Dragon Sparrow Sword.

On average, a person dies within a minute of suffocation. He was grateful he still had one minute of clear consciousness.

The lines of code representing the Chixiao Dragon Sparrow Sword were as vast as an ocean, unfolding before his eyes in an instant. Within this sea, there must be a shining pearl—he needed to find that core piece of code. His replication technique still had one chance left.

…Where was it?

Thousands upon thousands of lines of code twisted and writhed like viruses under a microscope. His consciousness grew increasingly faint, as if relying solely on intuition.

This module wasn’t it.

This one was far from what he wanted.

This wasn’t it either…

It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate.

Was it… this one?

In the boundless void, a firework suddenly exploded.

His entire body trembled as he selected the replication option. The yellow replication box stretched longer and longer. Just as the ten-thousand-line limit was about to be exhausted, Qi Yun’s loud cry suddenly rang in his ears!

Lin Xun’s eyes snapped open, and he saw Qi Yun entangled by countless streams of black Qi, struggling violently on the ground.

What about the others…?

He slowly looked around and saw countless demonic creatures forming a dark, surging tide. The high ground where he and the Chixiao Dragon Sparrow Sword stood was like the only isolated island, and they were all rushing toward it, climbing upward.

The cultivators of the cultivation realm held their weapons, guarding him from all sides. However, more than half of them were already tainted by the demonic Qi from the fissures, and some had even begun turning on each other. Xiaoyaozi unleashed a mighty talisman, striking down a demonized disciple from the rooftop!

What were the demons trying to prevent? Were they trying to stop him from obtaining the Chixiao Dragon Sparrow Sword?

Chaos reigned everywhere.

He didn’t know what this meant. His brain had already shut down, almost losing all ability to think. He only knew that Dong Jun still hadn’t arrived, wasn’t by his side, and perhaps wouldn’t come at all.

His attention shifted to the present. In that brief moment, Butterfly Madam suddenly staggered a few steps. Black Qi billowed around her as she knelt on the ground, the whites of her eyes turning black. Her entire body trembled violently, as if fighting against the demonic corruption.

The countless butterflies on her seemed startled, fluttering their wings as they flew out, only to be tainted by the demonic Qi or knocked down by the fierce wind, scattering everywhere.

Purple-black butterfly wings shed purple-black powder with hallucinogenic effects. Lin Xun watched them as the fierce wind stirred up the powder, and it fell into his eyes. He couldn’t open his eyes anymore, and the drowsiness was so intense, as if another world was beckoning to him.

Lin Xun’s consciousness grew dimmer. He felt an overwhelming urge to sleep, as if falling into a night without dawn. Perhaps death was like an endless slumber.

And Dong Jun wasn’t by his side. On every night when Dong Jun wasn’t there, he would dream. Those fragmented scenes were like patches of sunlight shining through a hawthorn tree onto a wall—no internal logic connected them. They were just fleeting glimpses, each shimmering with a beautiful glow.

—What would he dream of this time?