Chapter 68#

Gears of Fate 10#

There were also some exposed rotating gears on the cafeteria ceiling. Anphiel sat with his eyes closed beside Yu Feichen, resting.

After a period of recovery, not only had Yu Feichen worked out the details, but the others had also formed their own ideas. Xue Xin and Zheng Yuan believed they should prepare themselves to face the curriculum and graduate early. Bai Song and Lingwei thought they should find the person manipulating the mechanical city from behind the scenes. As for Big Brother Chen Tong, he wanted to smash that brass loudspeaker.

But when Yu Feichen voiced that hypothesis about the “fortress eating people,” they all wore contemplative expressions.

Vincent stated he also believed there was no human manipulation behind the mechanical fortress—it was an independent “organism.” He immediately added: “But we need to find a way to confirm this.”

Chen Tong, who was listening seriously, was first startled by Yu Feichen’s eerie assumption, then struck by the problem Vincent threw at him. His expression was utterly confused: “How do we confirm something like that?”

Vincent displayed a thoughtful look. Truth be told, Yu Feichen could sense a certain hostility directed at him from Vincent, yet this person was also genuinely working to solve the dungeon, and often actively helped others.

So Yu Feichen conducted business as usual and continued the discussion: “The machinery here is non-intelligent.”

Xue Xin: “Right, this place hasn’t even reached the Second Industrial Revolution. It’s impossible to have artificial intelligence. Besides, if it were intelligent, it wouldn’t need to drag living people here to work.”

Yu Feichen: “So the ‘curriculum’ we experience is likely a pre-designed mechanical process with no adaptive capacity.”

“Exactly,” Bai Song also thought of something: “Every time, we have no other path in front of us. Getting on the vehicle or entering the door is all the dungeon’s arrangement. Like when someone makes a mistake, they’re not immediately executed with a steel plate, but instead subjected to a pre-set ‘classroom test’ corresponding to that lesson, with death determined by the test results… Wait, does this mean the dungeon actually lacks the ability to actively kill?”

Yu Feichen nodded. Bai Song had hit the mark. Humans were flexible, but machinery operated methodically. On the first day, Nini’s roller coaster was assembled incorrectly, but the classroom wouldn’t suddenly drop a steel plate to execute her. Instead, a pre-set “classroom test” corresponding to that day’s lesson was prepared, and those who failed faced the consequences. The dungeon didn’t kill directly—it simply designed a one-way assembly line for everyone. People were like those trapped in a straight alley, unable to turn left or right due to high walls, only able to move forward, trapped in endless repetition of “class”-“test”-“rest”-“class.”

One had to admit, this killing method was very “mechanical,” befitting the aesthetics of this world.

Going forward along the dungeon’s path was equivalent to suicide. Only by exploring outward could they possibly find a way out. But how could they escape this process without violating the rules?

Yu Feichen said: “The key is whether the dungeon is monitoring us, and how it does so.”

At this, they all simultaneously looked toward the brass loudspeaker quietly suspended in the corner.

When Nini died, the loudspeaker accurately called out “Number Eleven, Nini,” announcing her death. But this thing looked neither like a camera nor a sensor. How did it capture what just happened—should we attribute it to magical “magic”?

Vincent said: “This world won’t have magic of that caliber.”

He said it with absolute certainty. Anphiel, who had been in a state of minimal participation, suddenly raised his head to glance at Vincent. Yu Feichen detected the movement.

Yu Feichen: “Why?”

“For no particular reason,” Vincent’s tone became strangely cold when speaking to him. “Just believe me.”

Yu Feichen pondered this. He recalled the numerical broadcast in the “Gatekeeper’s Warm Tips” before entering the dungeon. This dungeon world had a power strength rating of 5, higher than the temple, and a fluctuation amplitude of 6, lower than the temple.

Comparing the two, Yu Feichen immediately understood.

“Strength” represented the development level of a world’s power. The mechanical fortress was clearly more advanced than the foolish temple, yet the value “5” was mediocre, indicating the absence of advanced technology or magic. “Amplitude” was the degree of chaos in the power structure. Steel machinery was stable and powerful, while the temple’s monsters and NPCs had inconsistent levels, so the temple’s amplitude was higher than here.

So what Vincent said was true. These machines weren’t that intelligent. Even if they had recording and surveillance functions, they couldn’t independently determine names and behaviors from the footage… By what method did it identify them?

“Registration!” Bai Song brought up the matter again. “We all registered our names and dormitory numbers. But how did the dungeon match us to our names?”

“Order,” Yu Feichen said. “The loudspeaker announced Nini’s number—she was the eleventh person to write her name.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Bai Song said. “For example, I’m the second person to register. But when I, a living person, stand before this dead loudspeaker, how does it know I’m number two?”

Layer after layer of questions unraveled like untying knots, like clouds parting to reveal the sun. Yu Feichen finally figured it all out completely.

Apart from daily lessons, the academy gave each of them one thing—a school badge.

He pointed to the metal gear badge on his body: “We not only registered our names in order, we also took the badges in order. The badges are always on us.”

Bai Song was shocked: “…Holy crap!”

The others wore equally blank expressions of shock, only Chen Tong remained lost: “What are you saying… what are you talking about? How does everyone suddenly understand?”

“The monitoring device—” Vincent instinctively said a scientific term, then corrected himself to “loudspeaker” to accommodate Chen Tong’s education level: “The loudspeaker is always beside us. Your order number on the papyrus when registering, your name, your badge… these three things are probably connected by some form of magic. The loudspeaker recognizes you as Chen Tong not because it sensed your existence, but because it sensed your badge. It determined Nini’s death, possibly because the badge… was lost or damaged along with her body.”

“This is stupid,” Chen Tong’s mouth twitched a few times. “So if I don’t wear the badge, I’m not even a person in this school’s eyes?”

Having said this, shock finally appeared on his face: “So if I take off the badge, this damn school can’t control me anymore? Then I’d be free? Damn, I was right all along—school rules exist to be broken!”

Bai Song had to remind him: “But you also wouldn’t have food to eat or a place to sleep.”

Chen Tong deflated.

The painter Ko An murmured: “The badge is a gear that marks us. The metaphorical implications are too strong. Is this also suggesting that our existence is merely a gear component maintaining the fortress’s operation? Beautiful—a deconstructed world.”

Filtering out the artist’s commentary, Yu Feichen said: “We test this mechanism tonight.”

For the past two lessons, the machinery had been testing them. Now, they would begin testing the machinery. If successful, they would seize absolute initiative.

The test method was simple—swap badges between every two dormitories. If their previous hypothesis was correct, during the upcoming sleep period, the second “classroom test” would arrive silently. The conveyor belts where everyone worked had likely been marked by their badges after prolonged close contact, meaning the belts bore the imprint of names. These named belts corresponded to the dormitory where that person lived—otherwise, the methodical dungeon wouldn’t have required them to register dormitory numbers on papyrus before class.

The dungeon couldn’t identify specific people, only manipulate existing machinery, just like everyone boarding the homemade roller coaster in the first lesson. The two-colored crystals on each person’s conveyor belt were sent as energy sources to their own dormitory. So tests descended by dormitory units—if one person made a mistake, their roommate would suffer the consequences.

If anyone made a mistake with the stones in class, it meant someone might die tonight, and the loudspeaker would broadcast the name of the deceased.

But tonight everyone wore badges that weren’t their own. After someone died, they only needed to observe whether the name the loudspeaker announced was correct or wrong, and the entire monitoring mechanism would become clear.

“Also, it still hasn’t announced the Eight-Legged Gentleman’s death,” Yu Feichen looked toward Chen Tong.

Chen Tong was stunned, then understood what Yu Feichen meant. He pulled out the Eight-Legged Gentleman’s badge from his pocket—when the Eight-Legged Gentleman died on the conveyor belt, an arm was caught in Chen Tong’s hand, connected to fabric from the front of his body. At the time, Chen Tong had sighed sadly that his poor brother had no corpse. Then he had kept the badge on the fabric as his only memorial, saying he’d give it a proper burial.

His expression suddenly changed. He took the badge out of his pocket: “So the loudspeaker thinks the Eight-Legged Gentleman isn’t dead yet? Does it think I’m two people?”

Yu Feichen didn’t deny it.

Jililigulung suddenly let out a startled cry: “###&!!!!”

Bai Song: “Mr. Jililigulung’s sentence-ending particles changed. He might not want to sleep in his dormitory tonight.”

Jililigulung lived with the Eight-Legged Gentleman. Regardless of whether the dungeon thought the Eight-Legged Gentleman was dead, his conveyor belt had malfunctioned—not only had he received a defective stone, but also human tissue. Punishment descended by dormitory unit… Jililigulung was in danger there.

But Vincent, looking at Jililigulung, spoke: “You sleep at my place tonight.”

Jililigulung responded quickly: “@!”

Yu Feichen also told Chen Tong: “Leave the Eight-Legged Gentleman’s badge in his dormitory.”

Chen Tong complied. Then came the badge exchange—the school rules only stated that everyone must wear a badge, not that they must wear the one they received.

Yu Feichen and Anphiel also swapped badges with Bai Song and Lingwei. The excitement of reverse-testing the dungeon and the fear of the classroom test intertwined, permeating the atmosphere among them. After discussing for a long time, everyone finally dispersed.

But Yu Feichen didn’t return with Anphiel.

“You go first,” he said. “I have something to ask Bai Song.”

Anphiel nodded and left. Left alone facing Yu Feichen, Bai Song’s eyes revealed the characteristic anxiety of being summoned to the office by a teacher: “Yu-ge… what’s wrong?”

Yu Feichen didn’t actually have business with Bai Song, nor did he want to discuss the dungeon with him. What could be discussed about the dungeon had already been discussed openly.

This dungeon had one characteristic: when danger struck, human effort was completely powerless to resist, but when safe, it was truly peaceful and calm, unlike the temple’s chaotic disorder. This allowed him to spare some mental energy to contemplate issues beyond the dungeon.

Such as his relationship with Anphiel. He felt he shouldn’t have forgiven his superior officer so easily, yet in fact he already had. And after spending a day with Anphiel, he found himself treating this person well, bearing no grudge.

This made him deeply uncomfortable—it contradicted some of his principles. This loss of control troubled him greatly. He clearly understood he could never resolve this contradiction, but Bai Song could help him sort through his thoughts.

He considered his phrasing.

“There’s a person who did something I couldn’t forgive, but I accepted it, and I’m continuing to interact with them,” Yu Feichen said. “Why would I do that? Is it rational?”

Bai Song suddenly gasped—so Yu-ge had encountered trouble! He got excited now; this was his specialty. He thought seriously for a moment.

“That’s very rational, Yu-ge. Let me give you an analogy. If your wife committed adultery—”

Yu Feichen interrupted him: “It’s not that kind of thing. Use a different comparison.”

“Then, your wife gave birth to a child, but it’s not yours.”

Yu Feichen now thought consulting Bai Song was a complete mistake. He denied the most absurd part of the analogy: “It’s not a spousal relationship.”

“But I have to explain it this way—the analogy is key, Yu-ge.” Bai Song insisted on his comparison, only making a small concession on the event: “Then how about this: your wife ran away. Abandoned you.”

Yu Feichen still thought the comparison was inappropriate, but this time he didn’t interrupt.

“But after some time, she came back! Yu-ge, but at that moment you didn’t divorce her. Why? Because although you were very angry, you still wanted to live with her. Your heart is angry, but your body still loves her. To be more rigorous about it: although you can’t accept the fact that ‘she left,’ you accept even less the reality of ‘completely separating from her.’ So you weigh the pros and cons and decide to muddle through together. This kind of thing happens frequently between people. It’s very rational.”

Bai Song looked at his Yu-ge, sighed, and based on his understanding of Yu Feichen these past days, finally dared to speak from his heart: “Human emotions are complex, Yu-ge. They’re not simply black and white. Don’t analyze them the way you analyze the dungeon. Don’t you sometimes seem very… very mechanical?”

Yu Feichen pondered this. He certainly wasn’t someone who compromised easily, but occasionally accommodating reality was not unreasonable. He accepted that he had forgiven Anphiel, and wanted to return to the dormitory quickly. Bai Song indeed had a special function.

Bai Song also pondered: they’d only been in the dungeon for two days. How had Yu-ge and the beautiful younger boy already stirred up such a complicated, twisted tangle of love and hate?

Bai Song fell into the greatest confusion of his life.