Chapter 75#

The sky hadn’t brightened yet. In the east of the artificial canopy, a faint, small streak of crimson dawn had just appeared.

Fu Yucheng walked aimlessly along the winding white palace walls.

A thick layer of verdant vines clung to the palace walls, with a scattering of white roses that had yet to bloom. The snow-white, delicate flower buds bore crystal-clear dew, and a faint, ambiguous fragrance wafted over with the moist morning breeze.

As he walked, Fu Yucheng suddenly halted his steps.

Unknowingly, he had walked from the East Six Palaces to the West Six Palaces. The elegant and quiet palace courtyard before him was once the living quarters of his sickly mother—Empress Rong Xu.

Fu Yucheng stood outside the courtyard gate for a long time before finally stepping inside.

In the front courtyard, a young palace maid was carefully pruning a nearly dead white rose bush. She seemed to hear something and looked up. Upon seeing Fu Yucheng, she was startled, dropping the scissors in her hand and quickly performing a low curtsy from a distance: “Cr-Crown Prince.”

Fu Yucheng didn’t care for such formalities and waved his hand casually: “Go on with your work. I’m just looking around.”

The Empress’s chambers were spacious and quiet. Because they had been unoccupied for many years, despite being cleaned regularly, they exuded an air of decadent decay.

Fu Yucheng took a casual stroll through the front hall and then walked toward the study in the back.

The study was empty. On the wall behind the desk hung an ancient ink wash painting.

Fu Yucheng remembered this painting had been hanging here since he was very small. It was said to be an authentic work by his great-grandfather, the founding emperor Rong Qian.

Although it was an ink wash painting, the figure in it was the Grim Reaper from Western mythology, looking neither fully Chinese nor fully Western—it was very strange.

Fu Yucheng stopped in front of this peculiar ink wash painting and stood for a moment.

In the painting, the skeletal Grim Reaper had two clusters of eerie green fire burning in his hollow eye sockets. He carried huge black wings on his back, and an exquisite scimitar hung from his waist, looking very sinister.

Fu Yucheng looked at it for a good while but couldn’t make anything of it. He came back to his senses and couldn’t help but chuckle—what could there be to make out of it? It was likely just something Rong Qian had painted haphazardly.

He shook his head in self-deprecation and walked toward the backyard.

In a corner of the backyard stood a large, verdant banyan tree. A small swing hung from one of its branches.

Seeing that exquisite small swing, Fu Yucheng seemed to recall something. He couldn’t help curling his lips and walked over to give it a light push.

The swing swayed with a “creak-creak,” just like it did in his childhood.

Back then, after finishing their daily lessons and mental power exercises, he and his brother would often come here to swing. He had been bold since childhood, always urging his brother to “push higher, higher,” only to fall miserably on his face and sit on the ground wailing, leaving his brother both exasperated and amused.

Later, as his mother’s illness grew more severe, she moved to a suburban palace to recuperate, and state affairs were taken over by his uncle… Still later, when his brother was about to enter the tower and his uncle remained cold-hearted, he could only seek help from his mother. She had just shaken her head: “Since he volunteered to enter the tower in your place, there is nothing I can do… This is the fate of you two brothers.”

His brother had entered the tower after all.

His mother’s attitude had left the young Fu Yucheng feeling extremely disappointed and deeply resentful. So much so that after his return, he hadn’t visited the suburban palace even once—he didn’t want to see this mother of his.

Reminiscing about those distant past events, Fu Yucheng slowly walked out of the Empress’s chambers.

The courtyard not far ahead was the place where his uncle, the Platinum Prince, had lived. This uncle was cold-hearted and efficient. He had joined forces with Lu Xing to encircle and suppress him years ago, even pushing Lu Xing onto the crown prince’s throne. Unfortunately, not long after, this Platinum Prince also died in the aftermath of that rebellion—or rather, died at Lu Xing’s hands.

Fu Yucheng walked aimlessly for a long while more, gradually feeling a bit of a chill.

Suddenly, something soft and warm was placed on his shoulders.

Fu Yucheng turned his head slightly to see Bai Mo standing behind him, carefully draping a cloak over him.

Behind this White Knight were several guards, all with their heads bowed, not daring to look at them.

Fu Yucheng asked, “Why did you come over?”

Bai Mo looked at him and said softly, “When the sun rises, it will be time for the Tower of Light to open. We should go over now.”

“Let’s go.” Fu Yucheng nodded.

The two of them, accompanied by several guards, left the White Rose Palace together, crossed the Rose Plaza and the giant white marble statue of the founding emperor Rong Qian, and arrived directly behind the plaza—at the foot of the massive “Tower of Light.”

By this time, the sky was dimly lit, and quite a few people had gathered scattered around the base of the tower.

Most of the curious civilians were kept away from the plaza by the guards. Beneath the tower were several cabinet ministers, high-ranking nobles, and six Light Realm Knights.

An elderly cabinet minister with a graying beard walked over tremulously and bowed to the Crown Prince.

Fu Yucheng quickly supported him: “Haven’t I said it before? Elder Ouyang, you don’t need to bow.”

“Etiquette cannot be discarded!” This old official furrowed his gray eyebrows and said gruffly, “Your Highness, regarding the matter of opening the tower and releasing the people, you must think twice.”

A cabinet minister beside him also chimed in: “Elder Ouyang is right. The construction of the latest Dyson Cloud Number 23 is more than halfway complete; now is precisely the time we need people. These controllers have undergone years of closed training and are about to be sent collectively to the new Dyson Cloud to participate in the Pathfinder Project. How can you just release them? Please think twice, Your Highness!”

Some high-ranking nobles immediately retorted: “Since the Crown Prince has made his decision, he naturally has his reasons. You all shouldn’t be so talkative.”

“But…” Elder Ouyang hesitated, wanting to say more.

Fu Yucheng waved his hand and said decisively: “I have already decided. You don’t need to say more.”

The group of ministers and nobles looked at each other, not daring to speak further.

“The six of you, stand guard at the base of the tower. Do not let anyone approach.” Fu Yucheng instructed the six Light Realm Knights, then turned to look at Bai Mo, “Xiao Mo, you come inside with me.”

Bai Mo nodded: “En.”

The “Tower of Light” was immense. Its base occupied almost the area of a giant plaza. From the bottom up, it pierced through the clouds; the top could not be seen at all—its height was nearly six hundred meters. And beneath the ground, there was a basement of equal depth.

This behemoth of a super-structure was large enough to house hundreds of thousands of people. Its daily internal supplies relied entirely on automated underground pipeline supply lines, allowing for several years of completely closed training.

The entire surface of the “Tower of Light” presented an extremely pleasing milky-white color, with a faint, soft light emanating from its entire body. It had no doors or windows and looked very smooth.

Fu Yucheng and Bai Mo walked directly to the base of the Tower of Light. On the milky-white tower wall in front of them, there was an inconspicuous square green marker—this was the only entrance and exit for the “Tower of Light.” It only opened once when the sun rose on the fifteenth day of the first month of each quarter.

Fu Yucheng slowly extended his right hand and placed it on the light-green square symbol.

“Ding—Palm-print scanning verification passed.” The artificial intelligence’s crisp voice rang out.

Following this pleasant sound, a huge square doorway appeared silently at the originally smooth base of the tower, looking very deep.

Fu Yucheng and Bai Mo exchanged a glance and walked in side-by-side.

Inside the doorway was darkness and extreme silence.

As their footsteps echoed, soft warm-white lights lit up one after another—before them was a circular metal corridor winding upward clockwise. This corridor was very wide, with narrow silver metal doors distributed along its left and right sides.

After walking along the corridor for a while, Bai Mo suddenly whispered: “Yu-ge, I feel… something’s not right.”

Fu Yucheng nodded slightly: “It’s too quiet.”

The “Pathfinder Project” took place every twenty years. During these twenty years, a batch of controllers was selected every four years to enter the “Tower of Light.” In the final year, everyone in the “Tower of Light” would be sent together to the new Dyson Cloud to execute the “Pathfinder Project.”

Over these twenty years, although the number of controllers entering the “Tower of Light” wasn’t as high as in previous cycles, the total was still close to three hundred thousand. Yet at this moment, this strange place was as quiet as a massive tomb.

The two of them walked up floor by floor in silence along the seemingly endless circular corridor. After walking for an unknown amount of time, the surroundings remained very quiet—one could even say it was a state of dead silence.

On both sides of the circular corridor were numerous silver metal doors; some were locked, others were not. They pushed open a few doors to check. The rooms behind the doors were mostly dormitories, along with some training areas, communal dining halls, and entertainment venues. They looked not only normal but also very humane—but at this moment, there was not a single person in these places.

By the time they reached around the sixtieth floor, they still hadn’t seen anyone.

In Fu Yucheng’s heart, an extremely bad premonition had already begun to form, and his face became very pale.

Bai Mo, feeling worried, said: “Yu-ge, do you want to take a break?”

“No.” Fu Yucheng shook his head.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Then, he took Bai Mo with him to find the control room on this floor and turned on the floor’s terminal AI.

The data displayed by the AI was very chaotic. Fu Yucheng clicked on the light-blue virtual screen, his hand suddenly pausing.

Bai Mo whispered: “What’s wrong?”

Fu Yucheng pointed at several pieces of data on the screen: “The energy supply distribution of this tower… it’s not right.”

Bai Mo looked at the virtual screen.

On the pale-blue semi-transparent virtual screen was a giant electricity consumption distribution chart. The data was densely packed and looked extremely complex.

Fu Yucheng tapped the screen twice more. The complex data table turned into a coordinate graph with several curved functions on it.

Bai Mo stared at those eerie curved functions and couldn’t help but furrow his brows: “The basement’s electricity consumption accounts for 98.6% of the total? What’s going on?”

“This data is very strange,” Fu Yucheng mused. “The basement is the tower’s control center, so its electricity consumption naturally wouldn’t be small, but this proportion is too abnormal.”

Bai Mo thought for a moment and said, “Let’s go down and take a look. Maybe those people are down there?”

Fu Yucheng stared at the light-blue virtual screen and murmured, “I hope so.”

This time, the two of them didn’t walk down floor by floor but instead took a levitation elevator all the way to the underground control center.

Stepping out of the elevator, it was pitch black, and nothing could be seen.

Fu Yucheng muttered, “Why is it so dark here?”

“Hello, the circular light strip is about to turn on.” A soft, pleasant female voice rang out. Following this voice, rings of light-blue circular light strips on the walls lit up one after another.

After a moment, their eyes gradually adjusted to the light.

Then, they froze completely.

“This is…” Bai Mo said hoarsely.

Fu Yucheng didn’t speak. He stared blankly ahead, feeling as if all the blood in his body had frozen.

This giant underground control center was not divided into floors; it was extremely vast and deep. Standing inside, a person felt like a tiny ant inside a chimney.

A complex central AI stood in the center of the bottom of this “chimney,” which was right in front of them.

But this super-AI was not the main point—as the rings of light strips on the tower walls slowly lit up, the entire inner wall of the “chimney” was completely illuminated.

There were densely packed glass jars, numbering as many as hundreds of thousands.

These glass jars were arranged neatly in large swathes, spreading upward along the inner wall of the tower until they were out of sight.

Inside each glass jar was a brain.

A complete, vivid, and incredibly fresh human brain, as delicate as tofu.

Fu Yucheng stood frozen in place, his head buzzing. He had understood something, but subconsciously he didn’t want to believe it… He couldn’t think; he refused to think.

After a very long time, he faintly heard an anxious voice: “Yu-ge, are you okay?”

Coming to his senses in a daze, Fu Yucheng realized his legs were weak and he was involuntarily sliding downward. Bai Mo was carefully supporting him, his expression filled with extreme anxiety.

“I’m fine.” Fu Yucheng gritted his teeth, pushed the other away, and managed to stand on his own.

He couldn’t help but take a heavy, gasping breath. He stiffly turned his head, no longer looking at those things on the wall, and walked slowly to the central AI to turn on the system.

Enduring a dizzying headache and extreme terror, he struggled to browse the data within the AI.

Bai Mo stood helplessly behind him, also knowing that things were extremely bad.

Those human brains were, in all likelihood… He was both anxious and pained for the other, yet he couldn’t help.

After an unknown amount of time, Fu Yucheng finally stood up straight slowly, while lightly closing his eyes.

Then, he slammed a fist down heavily onto the control panel made of reinforced glass!!

“Crash!!” The loud sound of glass shattering echoed in the empty basement for a long time.

The back of Fu Yucheng’s hand was cut by the sharp glass edges, dripping with blood. As if completely unaware, he raised his hand to cover his face and slumped into the chair behind him, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Bai Mo pursed his lips, faintly guessing something. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out to hold the other’s shoulder, comforting him softly: “Yu-ge, I’m here.”

Fu Yucheng’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t speak.

After a very long time, he finally spoke extremely slowly, as if talking to himself: “…They made their move early.”

Bai Mo felt as if his heart were being squeezed hard by an invisible giant hand—the other’s originally deep and pleasant voice was now so raspy it sounded as if it had been harshly sanded.

“What was moved early?” he asked softly, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

“The surgery time was moved up,” Fu Yucheng murmured. “The original Pathfinder Project, to ensure the absolute freshness of the sacrifices, wouldn’t remove the controllers’ brains and offer them to that ‘God’ until the final week before the day of sacrifice.”

He shook his head almost subconsciously, his voice breaking: “But, I clearly calculated it. The day of sacrifice is in three months, on April 15th… how could this be, how could this be… I clearly calculated it…”

Looking at the densely packed glass jars on the wall, a faint chill rose from the bottom of Bai Mo’s heart: “Yu-ge, you mean the controllers participating in the Pathfinder Project didn’t go to the newly built Dyson Cloud, but were… sacrificed? Is this some kind of… secret religious activity of the imperial family? But this project happens every twenty years and has been executed for over two centuries. Millions of controllers have participated… this, this…”

Fu Yucheng didn’t pay him any mind. He just stared blankly at the shattered control panel, over and over again murmuring: “I clearly calculated it…”

Bai Mo was also somewhat confused. He didn’t know what to say and could only press the other’s shoulder in comfort.

After another long while, Fu Yucheng turned his eyes very sluggishly, looking toward the densely packed glass vessels on the wall.

He stood up slowly and stiffly, almost stumbling to the wall. While helplessly searching for something, he muttered hurriedly in a low voice: “It won’t be, it won’t be, Brother, Brother…”

Since they had met, Bai Mo had never seen Fu Yucheng so out of character. He felt as if the tip of his heart were being pinched hard by sharp fingernails, but he had no other way. He could only follow behind the other, running around haphazardly.

After an unknown amount of time, Fu Yucheng finally stopped in one spot.

He gazed blankly at the row of identical sealed glass jars containing fresh brains in front of him. After hesitating for a long time, he finally slowly took down one of them.

Bai Mo faintly guessed something. A chill ran down his back, while at the same time, he felt an indescribable heartache.

Fu Yucheng stared blankly at the glass jar, his entire body swaying slightly as if he couldn’t stand steadily.

Bai Mo quickly supported him, and at the same time, he caught a glimpse of the label on the glass jar.

That label was slightly yellowed, evidently several years old—“Rong Fu, Number 23000001.”