Win!

"What is... this?" Wen Wen's mindset wavered between trust in Ji Jue and doubt regarding a craftsman's fundamental character. After a long hesitation, she finally politely omitted any expletives and asked the question. "I call it the Paradise System Terminal, Version 0.7." Ji Jue introduced it in high spirits. "Born of mercy, answering everyone's call, bringing a gentle harbor and a tranquil pure land to those who have suffered torment—a masterpiece forged by the joint efforts of the old fart and me! "As long as you have it, you will never feel lost or in pain again. Even if you work more than twenty-four hours a day, you won't feel fatigued. "You can get plenty of rest, sleep deeply, and escape reali—ahem, escape the dreamscape. "Truly a rare masterpiece and an incomparable blessing for all living souls—" Wen Wen remained silent, watching him as her expression grew increasingly dangerous. "Speak human." "Uh, cough cough... a dream within a dream." Ji Jue hemmed and hawed for a while, looking up at the sky. The nature of "Paradise" was simple. At its core, it relied on the fact that Limbo originated from the dreamscape yet drifted outside it, building a new, closed system distinct from the divine kingdom. A matryoshka doll, a layer of dream reconstructed within the dreamscape. This was the whole point of seizing Limbo: forcibly tearing a piece of the dreamscape forged from the Golden Millet Remnant out of Wen Sheng's grasp—and once it was his, how to run it was entirely up to him. Even though it was essentially still the same server, there were now two operating systems. Surprised? Happy? Caught off guard? To this end, Ji Jue had made meticulous preparations and spared no effort in taking Limbo, even intercepting a vast amount of dreamscape chaos to use for repairs and remodeling. Now, beneath the shell of Limbo lay an encased new dream. After emptying out the chaos, the third layer of Limbo was a prime container and vessel. After all, Wen Sheng had paid a steep price to seal that chaos away. Its stability was beyond question. A space capable of holding the entirety of the dream chaos could naturally accommodate a few souls escaping reality; in fact, that was using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. As long as one entered, they could naturally evade the oppression of Tiancheng and the exploitation of the Order—and welcome the exploitation of Director Ji instead. No more pain, no more torment. Didn't that make it convenient for you to work twenty-four hours a day? You wouldn't even need to sleep. The process of entering Paradise was essentially identical to sleeping, and the life-support pod was merely an interface used to upload the soul. No need to breathe, no need to eat, no need to rest. There was an abundant supply of spiritus nourishment, strengthening the spirit and sharpening the intellect. There was not even a need to study; theories and knowledge could be poured straight into their brains. They didn't need mastery either. Most assembly line work only required reading data, grasping one's designated part, and repeating it mechanically. In this process, everyone's soul was connected in series and parallel by Paradise, turning them into a massive bundle of spiritus batteries linked in parallel. Naturally, thoughts and self-nature would not go to waste either. Ji Jue indeed had no need for their souls, nor did he need them to consume their self-nature. All that was required was instilling the relevant knowledge, followed by a period of high-intensity, mechanical repetitive labor. That was enough to imprint and derive a Spirit of Creation from the trajectories and patterns of their self-nature's operation and thinking to take over the job. Did that sound familiar? That was right: it was a stripped-down, knockoff, bare-bones budget youth edition of Chunjun—with Chaosheng's direct spiritus transmutation in the left hand, the Ye Clan's Nine Forms in the right, Fluid Alchemy hung across the chest, Deus Ex Machina tucked into the waist, and an old Qitan craftsman underfoot ready to pedal away. While no small feat, solving it wasn't truly troublesome. The cost and investment for a single Spirit of Creation might be somewhat higher than having human tools operate directly, but don't forget: the structure of a Spirit of Creation wasn't that complicated, and moreover, it could be imprinted and replicated! Once the base model was finalized, Ji Jue could churn them out like a printing press—and then iteratively upgrade them. When that time came, whether the people in the dream worked or not wouldn't matter at all; they could go play in their dreams, so long as they fulfilled the highly promising career of being spiritus batteries. That was how our free perks worked: once the big data was harvested, what ended up becoming the commodity was no longer up to you! Besides, this was a multi-win scenario. Those wishing to die contributed their final value, getting the death they sought. Win. Those who regretted their choice worked for Ji Jue, but in return gained a place of their own in the dream, with nobody shaking them down for faith and self-nature. Win. Ji Jue paid all these costs, helped everyone realize their wishes, and created Paradise. Though he didn't gain many tangible benefits, he attained spiritual fulfillment. Win! In short: win, win, win, win! Excuse us, but that was just how Limbo operated. Every day, they opened their eyes and were winning; after closing their eyes, for some reason, they won even harder! This was the optimal solution. As long as one shed some personal decency at the right moment and let go of the urge to help others selflessly, one could comfortably enjoy an unscrupulous and joyful life. Want to die? Fine. Want to live? No problem. Want money? Sure. Don't want to pray? Totally OK. Just enter the factory. Entering the factory could solve ninety-nine percent of life's problems; as for the remaining one percent, it was definitely because you hadn't driven enough screws. Even if you didn't want to enter the factory, that was fine too—VIP seat at the Paradise Terminal, right this way! Limbo turned no one away; Limbo accepted everything; Limbo didn't even need your soul. Whether you were a warrior fighting Tiancheng, a weakling fleeing destiny, or a treacherous turncoat—in the end, everyone could find their place on the assembly line! And so, the fallen leaves carried word: beyond the Scar, in dreaded Limbo, the Enemy of God took the throne as King of Hell. Under the King's reign, people would surely describe it thus: it was an era of entering the factory! The Enemy of God was more generous than God: he did not demand your prayers, nor your sacrifices, nor your parents, wives, and children. He only wanted you to enter the factory. Want wealth? Enter the factory! Want power? Enter the factory! Want to die? Then hurry and enter the factory! Meanwhile, in a mere day and a half, the first-generation model of the Paradise Terminal was rolled out. After several hundred testers made voluntary contributions, iteration was completed that very day, and testing slots were doubled. Two days later, the third-generation final version emerged—it didn't even need a life-support pod anymore. Just a telephone booth: insert a coin, and you could spiritize at any time and upload to Paradise! "But—" Ji Jue rubbed his chin, looking at the bizarre contraption before him. "Why a telephone booth?" "Because I damn well wanted to!" Bao Dachai rolled his eyes, too contemptuous to bother explaining. Just tell me if it works or not! If not, find someone else! Anyway, everyone was winning so hard they were grinning from ear to ear, leaving only the old Qitan fart to carry the heavy burden forward, constantly enduring Ji Jue's psychological manipulation and pressure. It was like having a mouthful of shit and being forbidden from swallowing. Every day, opening his eyes meant clocking out, and closing his eyes meant going to work in fucking Paradise! Damn it! I came into the Dream of the Golden Millet to slack off, take a vacation, and gather material. Why the hell am I still doing overtime! What was worse, after Ji Jue figured out how to accelerate perceived time in Paradise entirely on his own, the overtime hours shot up exponentially! In just a few days, he had grown so gaunt he was almost unrecognizable. Every time he saw Ji Jue, he habitually opened his mouth to deliver an eloquent routine of oral calisthenics, drawing from the Federation and the Empire, well-versed in both the Thousand Islands and Mid-Continent, periodically quoting classics and literature with admirable elegance. Unfortunately, compared to a seasoned street fighter like Sister Layla, it lacked a bit of rustic, hard-hitting true damage. A drop in the bucket. Let him curse; Director Ji was hardly a petty man. Not only had the upload mechanism been perfected, but the space within Paradise, originally a blank void, had undergone earth-shattering changes under the planning of numerous testers and the old Qitan fart. While it lacked the madly decadent experiences and indulgences of the Realm of Ultimate Bliss, it was nonetheless a realm as wondrous as a dream: blue skies, white clouds, green pastures, fine carriages, stunning beauties, and luxurious fantasies. Beyond the public space, each had an absurdly vast perceived private domain to do with as they pleased. Of course, many perks required cooperating with experiments to earn points to exchange, but the point requirements grew steadily lower as more people joined and experiments progressed. In the end, it turned almost entirely into an achievement system with no pressure whatsoever. Endlessly idyllic vacation living, hair-raising firefights of life and death, or even the path of supreme dominance where a mere flex of one's might brought legions of underlings to their knees... Every beast of burden who saw it sang its praises; every tester who used it gave two thumbs up, even beginning to flesh out and upload content of their own accord. After all, who wouldn't want to hug, kiss, and hoist high a red-eyed, long-haired female martial artist wearing boxing gloves, a tank top, and shorts inside Paradise? After opening the ports tentatively, an immediate rush of registrations was triggered. Hearts stirred everywhere, almost throwing Limbo's entire operation into chaos. Those who originally resisted entering the factory now scrambled to join. Every day at the factory gates, a dense swarm of heads bobbed; the moment the whistle blew, they surged inside in a flood. Ji Jue was even forced to put on a show of imposing restrictions, letting the workhorses grind one final rat race before being replaced by their own big-data Spirits of Creation... And so, the unlimited giveaway of benevolence began. Every sinner and heretic working the assembly lines until sparks flew raised their hands, tears streaming down their faces, crying out that the Enemy of God's benevolence could never be repaid! Seeking life and finding life, seeking death and finding death—was this not magnificent? However, things soon grew strange. Even the angels occasionally peeking from behind the clouds noticed something was off—with the naked eye, the living people in Limbo were visibly dwindling! In just a few days, barely anyone was walking outside anymore. In their place were strange-looking mechanical constructs, shambling forward with sparks flying from their bodies, stumbling with every step, their movements stiff. Instantly, horrifying tales of Limbo murdering people to craft bloody machines spread across the outside world—while within Limbo, transformations occurred with each passing day. Under the remote control of workers within Paradise, those grotesque automata were clumsy and off-balance at first, struggling to get the hang of it. But as their operation grew familiar and the assistance system grew smarter, their movements quickly became fluid. In just two or three days, with the rapid advancement of the assistance systems, fewer and fewer manual operations were required. Eventually, manual piloting wasn't even needed; they only had to sip tea, read the paper, light a cigarette, and click "Confirm." Until they didn't even need to click "Confirm." When the first Spirit of Creation was born from the reflection of self-nature and spiritus, frenzied production and replication began at blistering speed. And Limbo's productivity surged again and again under the supply of ever more spiritus batteries! Ji Jue watched, beaming with delight. Who said the Dream of the Golden Millet was bad? As long as there was faith, it was practically omnipotent, instantly solving ninety-nine percent of troubles. As for the rest, doubling down on the faith investment resolved that completely too! In less than a month, even mechanical ascension had been fucking achieved! Even more delightful, Ji Jue found that the faith converging upon him was growing in volume and speed! Even without actively siphoning it, the efficiency kept rising. Every passing moment, countless specks of light drifted continuously from within Paradise and fell into his hands, until Ji Jue grew practically numb to it, thoroughly annoyed, wanting nothing more than to turn the visual effect off. In a closed system, no matter how "heat" dissipated, it would always return to the whole. The same went for self-nature and spiritus; every emotional fluctuation and shift in self-nature represented "work done." Earth piled into mountains; sand gathered into seas. Every person immersed in Paradise, besides acting as a spiritus battery, doubled as Ji Jue's believer, constantly doing work twenty-four hours a day through the churning of their emotions and consciousness. That dissipating self-nature gradually enriched Paradise's depth and internal detail. At the same time, it accelerated the overall spiritus circulation within Paradise. Just like little hamsters frantically spinning on wheels twenty-four hours a day, generating a nonstop supply of power! Even if this motley blend of self-nature and consciousness couldn't be used to empower himself, why would a craftsman like Ji Jue need to empower himself with it? He wasn't the Holy God; he had no interest in other people's souls. He only knew his perpetual motion machine had started spinning, churning out faith, materials, and power non-stop around the clock. "Heh heh, heh heh heh..." At this moment, within the original second layer of Limbo, the boundless darkness had vanished, leaving only server towers linked to the third layer's Paradise standing like a forest. Countless blinking indicator lights illuminated Ji Jue drooling with glee. "Gwa! Our Embers possess boundless creation, boundless creation, I say!" "You really are something..." Beside him, Wen Wen crossed her arms, shaking her head with a silent sigh. Although she had no interest in the so-called Paradise or dreamscape, she had to admit that despite Ji Jue's lack of manners and low moral bar, he had solved all the problems effortlessly and casually. At the same time, he had delivered the best possible outcome for everyone. Reliable yet sinister. He never failed to deliver. Only... "When you clearly acted out of goodwill and compassion, why do you always wear that cynical smirk and act like it has nothing to do with you?" Wen Wen laughed, teasingly chiding him. "Could it be you're afraid of being seen as a good person?" "Huh?" Ji Jue was baffled, uncomprehending, before nodding without a second thought. "Ah, right right right! Exactly! That's how we craftsmen are—brushing off our clothes when the deed is done, hiding our fame and merit deep away, Sister Wen!" Sister Wen seemed to have developed some sort of misunderstanding about him, but no matter. After all, his character was just that upright and imposing; mere vanity was not worth mentioning! Regardless of whether his intentions were good or wicked, as long as the execution was top-notch, it worked! Looking at his fertile, oil-dripping fields while drooling, Ji Jue was suddenly filled with surging drive. Paradise was so wonderful—shouldn't everyone get to use it as soon as possible? The more people who entered, the more little hamsters there would be, the faster the perpetual motion machine would spin, and the more resources and power he could mobilize. Shouldn't he aggressively expand his user base and run a sweeping campaign of targeted delivery and user acquisition? "It's settled!" Ji Jue smacked his fist into his palm with determination. "Huh?" Wen Wen started, looking at Ji Jue's deranged expression, puzzled. "Decided what?" "To expand capaci—ahem, save the innocent, of course!" Ji Jue threw his head back with solemn gravity and proclaimed loudly, "To save the people from fire and flood, to deliver the masses from hanging upside down! The mere thought of how many souls are still suffering in the divine kingdom burns my heart with urgency, burns it with urgency!" With that, he swung his sleeves and marched outside! Rally the troops, form up ranks, and save the common folk! From that day forth, Tiancheng never had another peaceful night of sleep. Within the Scar, the high-pitched rumble of a volcano would erupt from time to time. Amidst spreading dark clouds, railway tracks grew across the ground like living creatures. Right behind them, train cars packed with demons came barreling out, charging into the Northern Parish on a wild kidnapping spree before returning brimming with captives. Yet infuriatingly, after grabbing people, those bastards didn't kill them or burn them; they only captured them to drive screws in the factory. Those lucky enough to escape wept uncontrollably with snot and tears: every day, opening their eyes meant driving screws, and closing their eyes meant driving screws too. And worse, as they kept driving screws, people turned into machines. It was an outright horror story! Bewitchingly sinister! Worse still, these periodic sorties had no predictable pattern whatsoever. Sometimes not a single one occurred for days; other times there were five, six, seven, eight raids in a single day. Countless angelic and guardian legions were kept in constant alarm, jumping at every shadow, panicked by the rustle of leaves and the cry of cranes. Small skirmishes erupted incessantly, and large-scale legion sieges of Limbo were not unheard of, yet that train crafted from a Saint continued to whistle and charge outward without pause. Come rain or shine! Not even knives raining from the heavens could stop it! When it wasn't raiding the Northern Parish, it was striking the Western Parish. Once, it even took a detour and plunged straight into the newly rebuilt Central City of the Eastern Parish, fucking storming the central sanctuary and carting off everyone from the Hierophant to the congregation! This so infuriated the Pope that he issued an absolute order: the heretics must under no circumstances be allowed to run rampant like this. Yet after all these clashes, despite victories and defeats on both sides—and even instances where an entire car of demons was captured and the train smashed to pieces—not a single living captive was ever taken. Every last one was a machine, sizzling and spraying gasoline when cut open, with not a living soul among them! Some would even play dead and self-destruct! Who could put up with that? Eventually, the angel legions, exhausted from running themselves ragged, couldn't help but start slacking off. If you're going to make minor trouble and abduct a few people on the outskirts, just don't go too far and make life miserable for everyone. And so, serious incidents of this scale became fewer and fewer. Until, during a routine survey by the Hall of the Heavenly Eye, they finally noticed something wasn't quite right. *Hiss...* Look at that "Scar" on the ground—is it moving? Compared to half a month ago, it had actually shifted hundreds of kilometers. Concealed by dark clouds and masked by the interference of numerous anomalous zones, it had quietly crept from the perimeter toward the borders of the Southern Parish. Hell, with just a little more effort, by next month it would be right at Central City's front door! Goddamn it! These bastards came to trade bases!