Within a space of pure white, twelve ethereal figures sat before a circular conference table.
They wore spotless white robes, upon which a milky-white luminescence shone, exuding an aura of sanctity.
Looking closely, there were actually thirteen chairs around the table, but one stood empty.
This was the Sanctum of the Church of the Torch.
Simply put, it was where the Harbingers within the Sanctuary held their assemblies.
At the center of the circular conference table stood an old man in a gray robe.
His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his eyes clouded, and both his lusterless skin and dull robe appeared thoroughly out of place in this sacred chamber.
His name was Alzu, and he had just returned from Jinhe City.
Facing the Harbingers seated before the table, he wore a devout expression and spoke in solemn tones, recounting the events like a prayer delivered in worship.
"The Jinhe City parish has fallen, and we have lost contact with the remnants of Singularity City."
"They fought bravely until the very end, but our enemies showed no mercy. They severed their heads, burned them to cinders, and choked Jinhe City's underground transit network with their corpses..."
By the time his voice trailed off, it held a trace of grief.
As his words fell, a ripple of unrest stirred among the Harbingers, who had been sitting impassively around him.
They exchanged glances and whispered under their breath, conveying their shock and unease through subtle looks and expressions.
"What barbarism!"
"...Not a single one left alive."
That a settlement which once sheltered tens of thousands of survivors should meet its end in such a manner was truly lamentable.
Those inhabitants had been 'pioneers' who embraced evolution. Though they chose a different path from the Harbingers seated here, they were still progressives who had bravely taken the first step.
Yet those ignorant barbarians had reduced it all to ash!
A stern Harbinger slowly tightened his fist and declared gravely:
"We shall carry their memories forward. Those who stand in our way will ultimately pay the price!"
The other Harbingers nodded slowly.
"The Academy and the Enterprise, is it? Those scoundrels..."
"And the Alliance."
"Not just them."
Watching the displeasure on the Harbingers' faces, Alzu spoke up slowly, directing his spearhead at Luo Qian—the Harbinger who had defected.
"The threat we face comes not only from without, but also from within. That man named Luo Qian—his laxity and hesitation cost us our best opportunity in battle, robbing us of numerous exceptional Apostles and Executioners, and exacting a terrible price."
"This is our most crushing defeat in twenty years, and an unprecedented betrayal! Were it not for that traitor, matters would never have become this dire!"
The Harbingers seated at the table gazed at him impassively, including the man sitting at the head.
Alzu did not pause, pressing on with the words he had long contemplated.
"The current paradigm has numerous shortcomings. While Harbingers can ensure that the Apostles' faith never wavers, no one can guarantee that a Harbinger's own faith will not waver first—"
Before he could finish, a Harbinger cut him off.
"Utter nonsense! How could our faith ever waver!"
Another Harbinger continued with a severe expression:
"Our minds have merged with the Sanctuary as one; our consciousness transcends all things. You should understand well how the Sanctuary operates."
Alzu stared at him without expression.
"Then how does Your Esteemed Presence explain Luo Qian?"
The Harbinger's expression froze slightly.
The Harbinger sitting beside him pondered for a moment before offering an explanation in measured tones:
"Luo Qian's situation is indeed perplexing... yet not entirely incomprehensible. He was already advanced in years before stepping into the Sanctuary, and once a human grows old, it is difficult to accept new things. We advised him to enjoy his twilight years in peace, but he refused to accept his aging and insisted on uploading his mind to the Sanctuary."
"I can understand his frailty of age, but his betrayal is unacceptable."
Alzu smiled faintly and pressed on:
"I do not believe this is an issue of age. The operational paradigm of this technology is inherently unreliable. By dispersing our consciousness across every individual, our enemies cannot destroy it. Yet, conversely, the foundation of this monument has also been split into countless fragments. So long as they shake our foundation, they can easily shake our very selves."
He had personally witnessed the entire collapse of the Heavenly Kingdom, and he understood clearly how that 'unkillable' entity had perished.
That being had fractured himself into countless parts and distributed them among countless people, turning each person into his eyes, into the cells that composed him.
The Alliance truly lacked the means to kill someone who did not exist on the mortal plane, but they possessed the ability to influence 'every him.'
When every single cell throughout his entire being began to waver, this seemingly ingenious superstructure suffered a systemic collapse.
In the end, leave aside beguiling others—
Even the entity himself had begun to doubt the truth of the Heavenly Kingdom.
And that was the most fatal part of all!
The Sanctuary could influence every believer, but the believers could in turn influence the Sanctuary, for the Sanctuary—which had no physical existence on earth—was fundamentally made of them.
It was precisely for this reason that Alzu grew ever more convinced of his belief: the Sanctuary was an unreliable construct.
The Heavenly Kingdom envisioned by mortals had to be achieved by mortals, rather than pinning hopes on a Sanctuary that did not walk the earth, or on people in the heavens.
The Church's current Harbinger model harbored a critical flaw. If they did not patch it, another defeat was inevitable.
"How could they possibly shake our foundation? Those barbarians?" a Harbinger retorted with contempt.
Alzu looked at him and said coldly:
"They exploited the ignorance and shortsightedness of the common masses, and their complete lack of understanding regarding long-term interests and the root causes of suffering."
The Harbinger stared intently at him, unable to rebut.
Because the Harbinger model itself was a repudiation of mortal wisdom. It was precisely because they recognized human unreliability that they sought to eradicate every mortal attribute and ascend as gods.
Alzu did not dispute the former premise, only the latter conclusion.
"If we wish to defeat them in terrestrial warfare, we must turn abstract Harbingers into concrete individuals who exist on the ground."
He knew well that his views were heretical.
As expected, the entire Sanctum broke into an uproar.
The Harbingers seated around the table refuted him almost immediately.
"Then how would we differ from Apostles?"
"We set out on this path precisely to discard mortal desires and every shred of selfishness, yet you dare suggest we regress?"
"You are handing us weaknesses! What are your true intentions?!"
Confronted by their suspicious, indignant gazes, Alzu continued calmly:
"I did not say that. I merely propose that we establish an alternate Sanctum and elevate a group of Harbingers who need not abandon their physical bodies to embrace the Sanctuary, yet are granted sufficient authority to oversee all worldly affairs of the parishes. That way, even if the Alliance beguiles our believers or destroys our Sanctuary with an ideological contagion, we will not suffer another defeat like Jinhe City."
Hardly had his words left his mouth when a Harbinger shot back:
"Preposterous! How will you ensure the purity of a Second Sanctum?"
Alzu looked at him and replied:
"The Second Sanctum need not be as pure as the First. It need only be capable of leading our mortal followers to vanquish our foes."
Just then, the man seated at the head of the conference table spoke up.
"Allow me to say a few words."
When he spoke, the entire Sanctum fell silent.
His name was Wang Yi.
He was the Holy Son chosen by the Torch.
And the shared choice of everyone present.
His faith was the purest, and the most unshakeable among them all.
"...In Haiya Province, this issue does not exist. The Heavenly Kingdom has reached its irreversible fourth stage, and our mental interference apparatuses ensure that our believers remain united as one body and mind. A Second Sanctum would be redundant."
Alzu said nothing.
Because this statement was indeed unassailable.
Unless their enemies could instantaneously destroy every mental interference apparatus across the entire territory, cracking their brainwashing frequencies while broadcasting their own, it was theoretically impossible to make those indoctrinated believers doubt the truth of the Heavenly Kingdom through simple means.
With their original consciousness wiped away, the Sanctuary was their sole consciousness, and ascending to a higher lifeform was their only ideal.
Yet in the untamed frontiers not yet incorporated into the parishes, or in those parishes where proselytizing was still underway, the situation was different.
The utopia they revered had to compete with the filth of the earth, where those ignorant wretches prioritized shortsighted gains.
Thus, they had to employ clever disguises.
Just like Na fruit.
Before releasing its spores, it would entice and numb its prey with delightful sweetness, ultimately trapping them beyond salvation to serve as nourishment for the Heavenly Kingdom.
"As for the parishes in Haiya Province, we need only strengthen communication among Harbingers to ensure our faith remains firm and unshakeable, thereby preventing similar incidents from recurring; there is no need to establish a Second Sanctum. However—"
Pausing, the Holy Son continued, uttering the very words Alzu had anticipated:
"...for untamed frontiers and parishes still in the process of expansion, the existence of a Second Sanctum is necessary."
"Even setting aside the fact that degenerate wastelanders are ill-suited to our advanced philosophy, we must consider that the black box has its limits."
"The black box producing our bionic chips has been operating for more than twenty years. It is an emergency production apparatus after all, not an omnipotent wish-granting machine."
At these words, apprehension and unease welled in the eyes of everyone at the table, their gazes shifting nervously.
This was indeed an unavoidable problem.
Their biotechnology was formidable, but the bionic chips produced by the black box were irreplaceable—they were the very foundation upon which the Sanctuary was built.
Mortals would inevitably continue to age.
The chips produced by the black box would run out eventually. Before completing their ultimate plan, their time was far from limitless.
Though he knew no one wished to hear it, the Holy Son uttered the truth in the end:
"Its limit is drawing near."
...
Anything whose function is known without an understanding of its underlying principles is unsustainable.
The black box was perhaps the most quintessential example.
In a warehouse at the former site of Singularity City, the Guards Corps had discovered a batch of decommissioned black boxes.
These black boxes were primarily used to manufacture pharmaceuticals, high-yield crop seeds, and key components for certain machinery.
Before they broke down completely, the residents of Singularity City had wrung out every last drop of value from them before abandoning them in the warehouse.
These defunct black boxes had already been transported to Shelter 404, where Yin Fang, acting as head of the Scientific Expedition, was in charge of studying them.
In the infirmary aboard the Heart of Steel.
Having received an update on Singularity City's reconstruction from Frost, Chu Guang once again visited the little girl named Yinyin.
Whether out of guilt toward Singularity City or sympathy for her, the Council had specially approved that the Enterprise would cover all her medical expenses, while promising to provide her with a bionic body that could walk freely.
She could customize her appearance, or choose to look exactly as she had before.
After conveying the news to Yinyin, Chu Guang paused for a moment, then asked about her plans for the future.
"Our strategic objectives in the Jinhe City region have been achieved. The Torch has been purged from this land. There will be no more mutants or Na fruit here in the future, and our primary focus in this region will now shift to rebuilding Singularity City."
Sitting in the corner of the pure white room, Yinyin looked up at him blankly.
"Singularity City is...?"
"The settlement that once stood on this land," Chu Guang answered succinctly. "Though it carries an unpleasant past, forgetting history is equivalent to betrayal. We plan to keep the name."
Yinyin nodded, understanding only halfway.
Assuming she grasped the gist, Chu Guang continued:
"The Heart of Steel will soon return to the River Valley Province. You can choose to stay, or you can come back with us."
Yinyin was silent for a moment, then asked,
"Do I still have a home here?"
Chu Guang said:
"The residents of Pinecone Farm want you back. Aside from the Annex and the basement, that estate still belongs to you."
A troubled expression surfaced on Yinyin's face. Finally, she looked to him for guidance.
"Could you give me some advice?"
"Unfortunately, I cannot give you advice. I don't know you well enough. Perhaps you should discuss it with your par—friends." Remembering that her parents had passed away, Chu Guang corrected himself mid-sentence.
Just then, recalling Frost's request, he added:
"Of course, the Enterprise representative hopes you will stay and help soothe the emotions of the surviving residents... You should have met it before; its name is Frost."
Yinyin looked at him, at a loss.
"But... I've already ended up like this... I'm afraid I won't be of much help."
Chu Guang shook his head.
"You don't need to do anything. You only need to be there."
Yinyin stared at him blankly.
"Just being there is...?"
Chu Guang thought for a moment, patiently explaining in terms she could understand as best he could:
"Many people grow older without truly maturing. Rather than fully capable adults, they are more like helpless children. They need someone to make decisions for them, to bear the risks of choices and responsibilities that were originally their own. That way, they can enjoy a period of peace and security."
Was Na fruit good? Who cared—the master said it was good, so just plant it. Did mutants swallow people whole without spitting out the bones? Ridiculous—the masters dressed in fine silk and eating lavish meals weren't afraid, so why the hell should you be? They only ate wastelanders anyway.
Singularity City's problem was completely different from Boulder City's. It was not the fault of any single individual, but the result of countless intertwined factors—much like this entire wasteland.
Perhaps feeling that the weight on her shoulders was too heavy, Yinyin still looked anxious.
"But I don't have that ability..."
Chu Guang comforted her:
"You don't need to. You only need to stay where they can see you. The rest can be left to Frost. It has observed us for a long time; I believe it possesses capabilities I don't fully fathom."
"...I understand." After pondering for a long time, Yinyin nodded firmly, looking at him with earnest determination. "I... I plan to stay!"
Seeing the serious look on the girl's face, Chu Guang was mildly surprised.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I've made up my mind. It was my father who made them that way, wasn't it? Xiao Yang, and everyone in the manor... If it's truly as you say, until they are willing to step outside, I will take responsibility and watch over them for a while."
Yinyin smiled with a touch of melancholy.
"Besides... my time has stopped anyway. This is the only meaningful thing left that I can do."
"...I'll inform Frost of your decision. It should be pleased with your choice." Chu Guang gazed at her, nodded in silence, and turned to leave the pure white room.
...
Stepping out of the infirmary and back into the corridor, Chu Guang was about to return to the captain's quarters when Xiao Qi's pleasant voice piped up in his ear.
"Master, Yin Fang has a message for you!"
The research on those black boxes must have yielded results.
Thinking this, Chu Guang paused beside a porthole in the corridor.
"Patch it through."
"Right away!"
No sooner had Xiao Qi's voice faded than a pale-blue holographic window popped up before him.
Seeing Chu Guang hale and hearty, Yin Fang said with beaming enthusiasm:
"Those black boxes you gave me are fascinating! Although they're completely ruined, through those relics, I dug up some unrecorded history about Singularity City!"
"In the early Wasteland Era, they seem to have relied on 'synthesized nutrients' to meet their food demands—presumably the predecessor of nutrient paste. However, perhaps because the local climate recovered more quickly, the nutrient paste synthesis technique never flourished here, but was instead carried on by Boulder City eight hundred kilometers away."
"Later on, Singularity City switched to algae cultures, which were more efficient in nutrient production and required less energy, followed by insects... These foods all shared a common trait: they were rather hard for humans to stomach. Especially algae and insects—while their yields were higher than synthesized glucose and protein, the end products often required secondary conversion and processing before they could be served on a dining table."
"I suspect this may have been their motivation for pursuing mutant technology—or at least one of them. A stomach that can digest anything truly boosts one's chances of survival on the wasteland, but unfortunately, the collateral problems that came with it drowned them."
Compared to the spoils gathered aboard the Heart of Steel, he found Singularity City's history far more intriguing—even if he hadn't managed to unearth his beloved coffee machines this time.
Chu Guang, however, was interested in something else.
"Can those black boxes be repaired?"
The excitement instantly drained from Yin Fang's face, and he shook his head with a troubled look.
"Almost impossible... The difficulty of manufacturing a black box doesn't actually lie in the technology itself, but in the industrial conditions. It's not something you can fix with a wrench and a screwdriver; it belongs solely to that era two centuries ago."
Chu Guang nodded.
He had anticipated this, so he was not particularly disappointed.
"Then send them to the museum."
"Yeah..."
Perhaps feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't proved useful at all, Yin Fang quickly added:
"Still, even though the black boxes can't be repaired, the nutrient synthesis and algae cultivation technologies Singularity City once used are quite interesting. I'll try to salvage whatever parts are recoverable... If you ever plan to build a space station in orbit in the future, these technologies will definitely come in handy."
Who knew how long it would be before something like that happened.
Chu Guang chuckled.
"I leave it in your hands."
Yin Fang scratched the back of his head with a grin.
"Don't mention it... By the way, what's that noise on your end? Why is it so loud?"
Chu Guang glanced in the direction of the infirmary and caught sight of several familiar faces, so he replied casually:
"Your junior is making quite a racket."
Yin Fang paused, not catching on immediately.
"My junior?"
Chu Guang elaborated:
"A Class-D researcher sent by the Academy to assist us. A young girl."
Earlier, Ye Shi had ended up a high-level paraplegic after trying to catch a falling Viper transport. His good buddies had fully planned to pull the plug on his ICU life support, but the girl kept such a close watch that they never found the chance to do the deed.
Later, the girl requested the use of the infirmary's operating table and equipment salvaged from the research institute, and even obtained some bionic cybernetics from the research ship, seemingly determined to patch that boy Ye Shi back to full health.
Finding it amusing, Chu Guang had readily agreed.
From the looks of it, the surgery was finished?
Hearing this, Yin Fang raised an eyebrow.
"Wait, why am I the senior? I'm a Class-D too, and I'm not old!"
Chu Guang burst into laughter, and noticing a pop-up window appearing in the bottom right corner of the holographic screen, he said with a grin:
"Another call's coming in. We'll talk later."
"See ya. Go ahead and take care of your business."
Yin Fang had wanted to argue the point further, but worried about keeping Chu Guang from serious business, he terminated the call.
As Chu Guang pressed the accept button again, a head of fiery red hair appeared on the other side of the holographic display.
Those spirited eyebrows twitched with mild unease. Seeing the video window suddenly connect, Xia Yan hastily stopped fiddling with her bangs, gave a dry cough, and asked:
"Are you... busy over there?"
Seeing Xia Yan's tense expression, Chu Guang couldn't help but smile.
"Just finished. What's up?"
She called him occasionally and usually acted quite normal; he had no idea why she was so nervous this time.
Hearing that he wasn't busy, Xia Yan let out a sigh of relief, cleared her throat, and said:
"...Didn't you say last time that it'd be great if I could build a suit of power armor for you? I don't remember the exact words, but that was the gist of it! You definitely said it! So I spent some of my spare time tinkering, and well... I tried making one."
The instant Chu Guang heard those words, he froze completely.
Holy crap?
For real?!
Seeing Chu Guang's stunned expression, Xia Yan thought he didn't believe her and quickly explained:
"It's not really that mysterious to begin with. The part with the highest technical requirement was the miniaturized cold fusion reactor... and doesn't Vault 79's black box produce those? So I used that 'Hippo-2' portable reactor as the power core, referenced the power system and armor layout of the Human Alliance Army's T-10 Champion power armor, and designed a similar suit of heavy armor... Experts from Camp 101 helped out a bit too."
"B-but after all, I just whipped it together in my spare time, so its performance definitely won't match pre-war gear. Still, it should be decent enough to make do with. Take a look when you have time and see if it's usable. If not, leaving it in the warehouse is fine too—it's not like I spent that much time on it anyway—"
Snapping out of his daze, Chu Guang immediately interrupted her, speaking with delight:
"That's fantastic! Thank you! That's the best news I've heard all day!"
Startled by his sudden reaction, Xia Yan blinked and muttered in a small voice:
"Really?"
Chu Guang nodded with a cheerful grin.
"Do I have any reason to lie to you? Though I truly am surprised—I never knew you had this kind of skill!"
Flustered by the praise, a shy smile crept onto Xia Yan's face, and she scratched the back of her head with the hand holding her welding torch.
"...What are you talking about? I've got plenty of skills! Don't forget, I've always maintained my own gear."
Chu Guang smiled and replied:
"I know. You helped us repair quite a bit too. To this day, the shelter's warehouse still holds a pile of bullets you hand-crafted back then."
"Hehe." Xia Yan looked even more embarrassed, her grin widening until it grew thoroughly distorted.
"They were kept because they couldn't be fired."
Seeing her get so carried away, Chu Guang couldn't resist teasing her, yet he hadn't expected her reaction to be even bigger than he anticipated.
"?! Couldn't be fired?! How could they not fire?! Where are those bullets?!"
"Just a joke, don't get worked up." Seeing Xia Yan's face flush with agitation, Chu Guang coughed softly, put away his smile, and said solemnly, "On behalf of Shelter 404, I thank you for your research achievement! I'll immediately arrange personnel to assist you with testing."
"...Don't be like that, you're making me nervous. Besides, this is just an experimental prototype; it hasn't been tested in battle yet," Xia Yan muttered softly, rubbing her index finger against the welding torch in her hand. She suddenly regretted telling him in such a rush.
How did the saying go again?
The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.
Although she had studied some Era of Prosperity knowledge at Shelter 101, she had been enrolled for less than a year.
Even if the virtual reality learning device helped extend her actual class hours, and even if she possessed some mechanical experience herself, it couldn't change the fact that she was still a novice at best.
Chu Guang, however, didn't mind in the slightest.
Half a glass of water was still water. The Alliance already had plenty of makeshift, experimental gear; the players wouldn't mind having one more.
Even if it couldn't match a Champion or a Dragoon, it was still a nuclear-powered suit of personal armor. Even serving as a mobile power bank would be fantastic.
"An experimental prototype is already wonderful! Going from zero to one is far harder than going from one to ten. As it happens, I've secured a batch of nuclear fuel on my end, so we can validate your design right away. If anything's off, we can just tweak it. We can afford to wait!"
Looking at the surprised Xia Yan, Chu Guang smiled and continued:
"Speaking of which, rather than the power armor itself, what surprises me more is how much you've changed."
Xia Yan asked, a little self-consciously:
"Have I changed that much?"
Chu Guang sighed with deep emotion.
"Enormously! Back then, getting you to do even a little work required cajoling and pampering."
Perhaps recalling the old days, Xia Yan's face flushed crimson in an instant, but she quickly bared her teeth in indignant protest:
"You call that pampering?! Threatening to throw me out if I didn't work... Listen to yourself, does a decent human say things like that?!"
Chu Guang merely chuckled, entirely unbothered.
"We're even. Weren't you making up wild stories in your head too, imagining I carried you back to the shelter just to make babies with you?"
"Aaahhh!!!"
Xia Yan's face turned as red as a lantern in an instant, steam practically erupting from her ears. With a frantic shriek, she reached out and slammed off the holographic screen.
At the thought of that humiliating memory from their first meeting, embarrassment swept over every inch of her body. Clutching her head with both hands, her fingers digging into her hair, she wished she could find a rift in time right on the workbench strewn with tools, parts, and blueprints—crawl right into it and start over from the past.
"That bastard..."
How long ago was that?!
What's the point of bringing that up now?!
And yet...
If he truly had been that kind of person...
The fingers tangled in her fiery hair curled involuntarily. The crimson hue of her face showed no sign of fading, but the embarrassment crawling across her body had shifted into an uneasy, tingling warmth.
It felt...
A little strange.
"Back to work, back to work..."
Realizing where her mind was wandering, Xia Yan shook her head in panic, determined to squash that bizarre notion and think no further.
Meanwhile, staring at the holographic screen that had snapped shut with a click, Chu Guang scratched his cheek with his index finger, a subtle expression on his face.
"Was making that joke a bit too much?"
He reflected on it briefly; digging up old history really wasn't very courteous.
Besides, back then she had just lost a leg and was disarmed and carried off by a bunch of strange wastelanders—it was only natural that she had been terrified.
Xiao Qi's voice drifted over casually from the side:
"Xiao Qi thinks the crux of the matter might not be the joke, master..."
Not entirely lacking self-awareness on that front, Chu Guang sighed.
"Fair point."
Just as he was about to put the matter aside, a bloodcurdling howl rang out from the direction of the infirmary:
"GAIA!!!"
Gaia?
Chu Guang was momentarily taken aback. He didn't understand what that brother wailing like a banshee was screaming about, only recognizing it as a player's shout.
Soon enough, however, the follow-up voice from that direction promptly cleared up his confusion:
"You ungrateful bastard...! After all the blood and sweat I poured into saving your life, is this how you thank me?!"
Chapter 614