This Is Way Too Extreme

The dead city slumbered beneath a yellowish-gray dusk, hazy radioactive dust blurring the setting sun. Rows upon rows of high-rises stood like tombstones. Through hollow windows, not a spark of life could be seen—no bustling traffic, no glittering neon lights of the past. White breath crystallized into frost on the visor of his hazmat suit. Only now did You'er finally understand why his senior had repeatedly urged him to wear protective gear before heading up to the surface, and why the thousand cubic meters of nuclear fuel had been delivered. His Adam's apple bobbed as he choked out a few words. "...Nuclear winter?" Zhao Feiyu glanced up at the sky. "What's blocking the sun isn't just radioactive dust; it's debris in orbit... Just half a year ago, our space elevator broke apart, and I only found out yesterday." Radioactive dust blanketing the edge of the atmosphere and debris scattered across low Earth orbit blocked out vast amounts of visible light reaching the surface. More than that, industrial capacity, energy consumption, production methods, and everything else had been thrown back to the dawn of the Era of Prosperity—or even earlier. This wasn't a simple matter of balancing caloric values. The planet's ecosystem had long adapted to the production activities of the Era of Prosperity, yet now everything had been violently reversed. No one knew how long it would take for the planet to readjust, especially when it was on the verge of being buried in dust. Perhaps humanity would have to take the initiative to adapt to this drastic shift. Curiously enough, the mutant slime mold's vital activity had not been hindered by the radiation; instead, the global drop in temperature had forced it to shrink its range. Thanks to that, the Human Alliance could redeploy more military forces to the front lines, and the dawn of victory in this war was finally in sight. Zhao Feiyu briefly recounted what news he had gathered and what was unfolding in Jinhe City. "The Human Alliance plans to establish a more efficient restoration and reconstruction agency in hopes of restoring production as quickly as possible, while also tackling the humanitarian crisis triggered by the climate shifts." "The refugee settlements in Jinhe City will be reclassified as survivors' colonies. Researchers and engineers will assist the stranded residents who couldn't get into shelters with reconstruction work... Our jurisdiction has also been transferred from the Central Wartime Research Institute to local administration. Next up will likely be epidemic prevention and improving pharmaceutical production methods." "While I personally think that's a good thing, I'm afraid it also means reconstruction will be a long-term endeavor measured in decades... Quite a headache." Zhao Feiyu gave a light chuckle, hoping to ease the heavy mood, but seeing not a trace of a smile behind the protective visor, he quickly wiped the grin from his face. "...Hard as it is, I still believe everything will get better." Seeing You'er remain silent, he paused, gazing into the distance before speaking again. "I've got a few tickets to the future—all right, I'll stop playing coy. They're hibernation pods set for a fifty-year duration. The Alliance is grateful for our work so far. Our anti-radiation formula saved a lot of lives, and so did the radiation-clearing agents... Our job is done. We can head to the future and enjoy life." You'er let out a bitter laugh. "And what if we go?" Zhao Feiyu's expression froze slightly, then he forced a smile. "If we go... nothing bad. Fifty years from now, everything will be back to normal. You just take a nap and all this misery is over. Don't you think that's great? Sure, it's not all sunshine and roses. A generation spans three years nowadays; talking to youngsters over a dozen generations down the line, the generation gap will probably be wider than between humans and dogs—" "Do you honestly believe that?" You'er asked, cutting through his daydream. Zhao Feiyu fell silent. The question needed no answer. No one had ever tallied the direct and indirect casualties of this war, but one glance at those abandoned towers was enough to tell that the number was astronomical. A return to the Era of Prosperity? If it were really that easy, why would the shelter program include facilities designed for centuries of hibernation? Seeing his senior fall quiet, You'er asked, "What do you plan to do?" Zhao Feiyu let out a sigh. "I plan to stay behind..." You'er said nothing, quietly listening as he continued. "Bad as things are, plenty of people need my research. Besides, my family and friends are in this era. I can't drag everyone to the future with me. A human life is only so long; I want to spend what time I have left with them." He paused and looked at You'er. "I know it sounds selfish, but I still hope you'll go." You'er answered plainly, "Because I'm a loner?" "No, not because of that," Zhao Feiyu said with a wry smile. "Look, I'll be blunt with you. The Human Alliance wants us to send a few researchers into the future. As you can see, this crisis isn't going to end overnight. If everything wraps up in fifty years, wonderful. But if it doesn't... someone will need to keep leading the way." You'er remained quiet for a long while before sighing. "Then I'll go see that brave new world in your place." ... In the end, You'er chose to go to the future. Even he didn't entirely understand why he had made that choice. Perhaps deep down he still clung to a sliver of hope for the world fifty years later, or perhaps he had simply fallen into despair over the present. Any era would do, so long as it wasn't right now. Since the people of the future might need him, and the people of today needed someone to watch over their descendants, then he would go. He had no children of his own anyway. His relationship with his parents was emotionally distant as well. Most young people of his generation were like that; rather than bloodlines and traditions, they cared about self-actualization and kindred souls who resonated with their minds. Fully prepared mentally, he lay calmly in the hibernation pod, joining the countless pioneers journeying toward tomorrow on a one-way trip through time. Yet despite all his mental preparation, how events unfolded went far beyond his expectations. It also surprised Chu Guang, who stood quietly watching from the sidelines. When You'er woke again, what awaited him was not a wasteland fifty years later, but a world nearly two centuries ahead. "The year 2320..." Sitting on Chu Guang's shoulder, Xiao Qi's eyes went wide as she let out a hushed gasp. "Meaning... he slept for a whole 191 years?! I'm shocked!" "Year 191 of the Wasteland Era... around the time Torch had just emerged from Shelter 117," Chu Guang murmured, casting a sideways glance at Xiao Qi. "Wait, haven't you already watched this whole memory? Why are you acting surprised?" Xiao Qi froze, then subtly averted her gaze. "Ehehe... it sets the mood!" Chu Guang was speechless. *What kind of damn mood does that set?* "All right, all right, don't sweat the details, it's almost over... Aww, I really wanted to spend more time with Master." "Aren't you by my side every single day?" "How is that the same!" "Is there a difference?" "Of course there is! One is outside, the other is inside... Um, how should I put it?" After pondering for a moment, Xiao Qi's eyes lit up, and she gave a shy giggle. "It's like Master entering Xiao Qi's body... hehe." Chu Guang: "...?" The frozen scene began to flow again. Xiao Qi had taken it upon herself to hit the play button. Sitting up in the hibernation pod, You'er looked around in a daze. After a brief exchange with the staff waiting nearby, he learned that he had slept for nearly two hundred years. The expression on his face became an intricate knot of mixed emotions. A person could never fulfill a promise that exceeded their own lifespan. For a group of people, it was even more impossible. He should have seen it coming, yet the reality still caught him off guard. The fifty-year cryogenic term, the promised pension and honors... everything had vanished into thin air along with the fall of the Human Alliance. They had entered a new era. The people born in this age called it the Wasteland Era. In truth, an organization called the Post-War Reconstruction Committee had emerged after the Human Alliance fell, and his senior had served that organization for a time. The facility's staff brought him his senior's notebook, and tucked inside, he found a letter left for him. "...Mr. You'er, I'm truly sorry for letting you sleep this long. I kept wavering on whether to thaw you on your eightieth birthday, but then I remembered what you said—you wanted to see a brave new world, and that might still take some time..." "The year is 2174 now, Year 45 of the Wasteland Era. As for when you will see this letter, I can't say... Perhaps 2229? Though I hope not—no one has ever slept for that long before." "My health is deteriorating. Even with bionic organs, the remaining parts of my body are giving out to age, and things have been a complete mess lately. Those fools from fifty years ago hadn't had their fill of fighting, and now they're at each other's throats again... As expected, the Reconstruction Committee has dissolved. Now it's the Enterprise, the Academy, and the Legion. Nobody knows what the future holds." "Ah, reading this must leave your head spinning. Where should I even begin explaining... In short, the Reconstruction Committee was the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, the very agency I told you about, founded to rebuild more efficiently. You can think of it as a continuation of the Human Alliance, seeing as it inherited all of the Alliance's bad habits. Of course, it had its merits too, but none of that matters now. The finest age has ended—once again." "I never imagined I'd have the honor of living through two apocalypses in a single lifetime. Right now, we stand with the survivors of Singularity City—the former refugee settlement next to the institute, which has now developed into quite the community. A few days ago, researchers fleeing from the East Coast joined us. I took a look at their research... Frankly, their ideas are nothing short of wild." "I share their view: so long as humans remain human, they will inevitably repeat the exact same mistakes countless times... To solve all problems once and for all, humanity must be transformed into a new species that is powerful, long-lived, intelligent, and docile. They call it the Gestalt Lifeform! A rare opportunity—how about giving the new humans cat ears? Haha, just kidding, don't take it seriously." "Those fellows were certainly brave, injecting unstable experimental reagents straight into themselves. Yet the results were astonishing. We now possess 'robust physiques'; the next step is figuring out how to imprint more noble traits into the DNA." "You might think I've gone mad. To be honest, I think so too, but... as a researcher, this is the only thing left I can do for our fellow humankind." "Putting the research aside for a moment, let me share some good news. The unity shown by the residents of Singularity City gave me hope. In a very short time, they abandoned their illusions and resolved to be their own saviors. The winter shows signs of easing as well; before long, perhaps we'll be able to grow more crops outside... It looks promising. Maybe in another fifty years, everything will turn around." "I'm sorry for taking it upon myself to extend your hibernation, but please believe my intentions were good. I've always felt guilty about bringing you to Jinhe City just as you stepped into society, leaving you stuck in that lab right up until the day the world ended. Regrettably, the past can never be reclaimed, but at the very least, I hope you can live in a brave new world in the future... If possible, I wanted to apologize to you in person, but after thinking it over, I decided to put it in a letter." "I'm too old for time travel. This letter is likely my final message left in this world." "May you live a happy life in the new world." "To my dear friend." "—A friend who chose to remain in the past." Reading the letter from beginning to end, You'er remained silent for a long time. Taking a deep breath, he put away the notebook and the letter. Now, he truly was all alone in this world. The only remaining umbilical cord tying him to this reality was likely this letter in his hand and his senior's unfinished research. Standing behind him, an old man spoke softly. "Your friend was a respectable researcher." You'er turned around to face him. "You are..." The old man said quietly, "Luo Qian, from Shelter 117." Hearing that name, surprise surfaced on Chu Guang's face. Yet You'er's expression did not change in the slightest, nor did the word 'shelter' evoke any warmth in him. Across a gulf of more than two centuries... Even if the language remained unchanged, even if they were both human, could they really be considered the same species? "Did you know my senior?" The old man shook his head, then nodded. "I was born inside a shelter and only managed to escape that cage recently. Naturally, I couldn't have known someone from over a century ago." Pausing, he continued, "Still, if I ever had the chance to meet him, I think we would have become very good friends." You'er gave him a strange look. "Why do you think that?" Luo Qian chuckled softly. "Thinking itself is a subjective act, scientific research even more so. By understanding his research, I came to understand the man." "Is that so..." Seeing You'er lost in thought, Luo Qian slowly went on, "As long as humans remain human, they will inevitably repeat the same mistakes... We couldn't agree more with his view. Along our journey, we have witnessed far too much incurable stupidity—either people devouring each other alive, or finding clever new ways to consume one another." You'er showed no surprise, remarking flatly, "Has the outside world really come to that?" He wasn't shocked at all. Rather, from the moment he learned two hundred years had passed, he had already anticipated what the outside must look like. Luo Qian gave a slight nod and continued, "We don't wish to pessimistically believe this is a curse written into our genes, but most of the companions traveling with me have grown weary." "Ever since leaving the shelter, we've been searching for seeds capable of hatching miracles. Our first stop was Boulder City, then other settlements... Yet after traveling over eight hundred kilometers, we haven't seen the faintest glimmer of hope, and we've lost many brilliant people along the way." "Singularity City is our final stop. We agreed that if this place fails too, we'll give up." You'er asked, "So did you give up?" Luo Qian smiled faintly. "Almost... When we saw those green-skinned monsters, we had given up. Even if those old priests retained a shred of human conscience and respect for knowledge, letting us go on our own, it couldn't change the fact of their degeneration." "Man-eating ghouls outside the facility..." You'er looked at the envelope in his hand, rubbing his chin. "In other words... Senior's research was a failure?" For some reason, there was no regret in his heart. Instead... he felt a strange sense of relief. If that was the case, the choice he had staked his life on wasn't entirely meaningless. While this wasn't a brave new world, there was still work left for him to do. Just like right now. That "meaning" was held firmly in the palm of his hand. "I wouldn't call it a failure, merely incomplete," Luo Qian continued. "He forged robust physiques for the new humans, but he also buried the seed of violence in their genes. He intended to resolve that flaw down the road, but sadly, that seed sprouted before he could find the cure... If only we had awakened sooner and met him earlier." "That coward holding the keys kept urging us to wait, telling us to put our faith in a Human Alliance that couldn't even save itself, as if following orders step by step and leaving everything to our children would magically solve every problem." "And so we watched helplessly as the spark died out bit by bit, until an endless, boundless night swallowed this land. No matter how far you travel, no miracle will ever appear... not light-years away, and not decades later." Reaching this point, Luo Qian turned to You'er. "We intend to end this pointless journey and carry on his research. If possible, we would like your help." "To finish the incomplete Gestalt Lifeform?" You'er pondered for a moment before answering straightforwardly, "Understood. I'll help." Luo Qian looked at him in surprise, and then a faint smile spread across his wrinkled face. Suppressing his smile, he solemnly extended his right hand. "Thank you for joining us. The ship bound for the new world has gained another outstanding crewmate." "Don't mention it." You'er took his hand and shook it. "I feel the same way. If sleeping over two hundred years won't bring a new world, waiting another two hundred won't change anything." "If I have to serve as the oar for this ship, I'll do it." After that handshake, Luo Qian parted ways with You'er and headed south with the rest of Torch. Torch struck a deal with the local mutants: Champion Biopharmaceuticals would help research cybernetics to make the mutants stronger, while the mutants were obligated to assist with their experiments. The old priests of the Qi Tribe were all transformed survivors of Singularity City. Under their leadership, the Ancestral Faction held an extraordinary reverence for knowledge and scholars, which was also one of the traditions carried over from Singularity City—long ago, a group of technical personnel had helped them. Although the younger generation of mutants in the Secular Faction held the superstition that smart people's brains tasted better, after witnessing the sheer power of modified cybernetics, they reached a rare consensus with the old-timers of the Ancestral Faction—at least to spare the researchers from the dinner table. The experiments proceeded in an orderly fashion. By the time Luo Qian returned, nineteen years had slipped by—the year 2339, Year 210 of the Wasteland Era, just one year before Chu Guang's awakening. Moved by the passage of time, Chu Guang suddenly sighed. With her elbows propped on her knees while perched on his shoulder, Xiao Qi tilted her head to look at him. "What's wrong, Master?" Chu Guang replied concisely, "Nothing. Just a bit emotional, witnessing the sweeping changes of this land through the memories of an ordinary nobody." The scene rolled forward once more. For this meeting, Luo Qian had already uploaded his consciousness to circuit boards, and the meeting place had shifted from physical reality into the virtual realm known as the "Sanctuary." At the same time, Luo Qian brought new developments. In the south, they had established a theocratic state ruled by the Church of the Torch. Under the reign of the "Sanctuary," people no longer had to bicker over meaningless squabbles; every single soul whole-heartedly served as an oar rowing the vessel toward the new world. Furthermore, he brought a major breakthrough achieved by their southern laboratories—a fungal organism known as the Na fruit. "Through the combination of the psychic interference device and the Na fruit, we have successfully created a strife-free utopia across an entire province." You'er asked casually, "What about the Gestalt Lifeform project? Is there still any need to continue it?" Luo Qian fixed him with an intense gaze. "Of course we must continue. The utopia of the old humans is merely an interim milestone to ensure our experiments face no interference." "The shore we must ultimately reach is harmony and co-prosperity achieved without the aid of the Na fruit or psychic interference. That means we must shed the physical shells binding our souls and become a species higher than humankind." You'er nodded. "Understood. So what should I do next?" Luo Qian continued, "Solve the issue of the Na fruit struggling to survive in cold, arid environments. We need to spread it farther afield, not just keep it confined to Haiya Province." "I'll provide you with some samples... The situation now is different from before; the surrounding survivor settlements will gradually join us. By the way, starting now, you are an Apostle of the Church, while I, having entered the Sanctuary, am a Forerunner." "I have no interest in preaching scriptures; that would eat into my valuable research time," You'er said impatiently. Politics was what he loathed most. He had no desire for political power; he only wanted to pursue what he deemed truly worthwhile. Yet ironically, he had never seemed to escape that shackle his entire life. From very early on, he had simply drifted along with the boat under his feet. Fortunately, his new superior understood him well. Luo Qian chuckled warmly. "Don't worry, it's merely a title. It won't take up much of your time." "With this status, our plans will proceed far more smoothly. Every settlement throughout the parish will cooperate with your experiments." "No matter what kind of experiment it is." This time, an expression of genuine interest finally crossed You'er's face. "Sounds intriguing..." In that instant, he suddenly understood why they had failed time and time again. It wasn't because they lacked the opportunity to do things right; rather, they had chosen the wrong path, attempting to rebuild their civilization on a material level through human means. Perhaps that train of thought had been flawed from the very beginning. The Era of Prosperity was a singular, unprecedented exception in the history of the Human Alliance, and precisely because it was rare, it was called a miracle. Rebuilding a paradise through human means would, in all likelihood, merely repeat human mistakes. Gods, however, were different. By replacing humanity with divinity, human errors would cease to exist. Of course, he knew full well this path would be littered with thorns, and lives would be lost. But would fewer people die if they refrained from doing so? Perhaps even more would perish. Rather than letting those ignorant fools die for meaningless causes, it was better to give their deaths purpose. A relieved, hearty smile suddenly broke across You'er's face. "I understand. Leave it to me... Right, in a few more years, I'll follow you into the Sanctuary as well." Luo Qian smiled warmly and nodded. "You are welcome anytime." You'er gave a slight nod and logged out of the Sanctuary. Looking down at his inner monologue, Chu Guang, standing beside him, let out a soft sigh. "This is way too extreme." ... Pinecone Farm, annex of the Zhao Manor. Cradling a machine gun, Jieyan yawned. "How long do we have to stand guard here?" Fang Chang, who had just logged back in after lurking on the official forums, remarked casually, "Looks like the Goblin Corps took all the work for themselves. The mutant reinforcements probably won't be coming. Tonight should be quiet, but keep your guard up anyway." Jieyan grumbled with an aggrieved look, "Damn it! That bastard didn't even leave us any scraps of soup?" Killing Dagger snapped his head up. "Huh? Who's calling my bro?" Hao Gou: "%$#@!" Huddled by the fire to keep warm, Little Sheep stretched her small hands toward the flames, exploring the warm contours with her palms and fingertips, entertaining herself by finding the edge where it was neither too cold nor too hot. The firelight cast a rosy glow over her cheeks. Though a great deal had happened, she had already calmed down. Those big brothers in armor were very good people. Not only had they driven away the bad guys and cured Yin Yin and the others, but they had also given her several sweet, fragrant bars of chocolate. The corpses in the annex had already been cleared away. The bloodstains on the walls and floors were a bit frightening at first, but after seeing them enough, they didn't seem so terrifying anymore. She was safe now. Safer than she had ever been. Yin Yin sat beside her wrapped in a blanket. Ever since she woke up, she had sat motionless, unresponsive to anyone who spoke to her. Little Sheep had accepted the chocolate on her behalf without eating it, saving it all for her. She hoped her friend would recover soon. Just then, the tall big sister walked over. Glancing at the curled-up, lifeless-eyed Yin Yin, Chen Yutong's face showed a hint of concern and worry as she asked Little Sheep, "Is she feeling any better?" Little Sheep shook her head gently. Right at that moment, Yin Yin suddenly lifted her head. "Daddy..." "Hm?" Though Chen Yutong hadn't clearly heard what the girl said, seeing her finally react made her immediately crouch down beside her. "How are you feeling right now? Does anything hurt?" Yin Yin shook her head, kept her eyes fixed on Chen Yutong, and asked in a faint voice, "My daddy... is he okay?" Chen Yutong fell silent. Vaguely guessing the truth from the woman's expression, tears welled up in Yin Yin's eyes. In a trembling voice, she asked again, "Then... what about my brother? My sister... and the steward?" That silent look said everything. Tears the size of beans rolled down her cheeks as she hugged her knees tightly, sobbing uncontrollably. "...Why." Little Sheep patted her head, murmuring softly, "Don't be sad..." With eyes brimmed with tears, Yin Yin bit her lip, unable to utter a single word, not even knowing how to face her friend. She had thought about helping Little Sheep escape this cage, but that had come from pity, compassion, or simple kindness; she had never imagined it would happen like this. Her father was gone... What was she supposed to do now? Faintly discerning the fear in Yin Yin's eyes, Little Sheep offered quiet comfort. "...Um, our home might not be as big as this mansion, but it's pretty big too. I'll beg my daddy to take care of you." Yin Yin looked at her. That icy glare made Little Sheep feel as though the friend before her had suddenly turned into a stranger—so unfamiliar it even frightened her. "You're very pleased with yourself now, aren't you... You're finally free." Little Sheep stared at her in bewilderment, unable to fathom why she would say such a thing. Yin Yin clearly didn't understand why she had said it either, let alone why she was venting her grief onto Little Sheep. After all, she was her best friend. Yet Yin Yin refused to apologize, turning her head away obstinately. Watching the sulking child, Chen Yutong sighed. Truth be told, for this settlement to end up like this, her father bore at least ninety percent of the blame, and calling it entirely self-inflicted was no exaggeration. He had already possessed absolute power, yet craved even more, and just then, someone had dangled an enticing bait right before his eyes. With near-arrogant confidence in his own abilities, he had swallowed the hook almost without hesitation, even dreaming of matching wits with a church thousands of kilometers away using his few meager chips. Yet he never imagined they didn't even regard him as human. On the experimental logs, he hadn't even earned a name—only a scrawled serial number. Still... she couldn't help but feel sympathy for the child. Gently patting the little girl's head, Chen Yutong said softly, "There are many things in this world beyond our control... They have nothing to do with our efforts or choices. Even if you hadn't wandered into that basement today, even if you hadn't done anything at all, tonight's events would have happened just the same." "I don't know if hearing this makes you feel any better, but... at least don't torment yourself or the people around you. You're all victims here; the responsibility doesn't lie with you. Your friend was very brave to save you. If it were me, I would thank her." As she spoke, Chen Yutong turned to Little Sheep, her voice gentle. "Could you come over here with me for a moment? I might need your help." Little Sheep cast a worried look at Yin Yin, who kept her face turned away in silence. Though reluctant to leave her friend alone, she nodded sensibly. "Okay... I'll help." Chen Yutong smiled gently and pushed herself up from her knees. "Come with me."