Chapter 2: The First Day of Being Beaten Up by the World.
The Black Wall.
This was a no-man’s land that belonged neither to the Human Alliance nor the Omnics. Standing in the virtual world, its projection looked exactly like a translucent, black brick wall. It blocked out the terrorists wandering the edges of the virtual network and maintained absolute neutrality within its borders.
Many were curious about the origins of the Black Wall and the administrators behind it. Unfortunately, not even the highest echelons of the Human Alliance or the Omnic leaders could glean the slightest bit of information.
Rumor had it that the Black Wall was the second gift left to the world by that great figure who created Alpha. And only he possessed the key to manage the wall.
But as everyone knew, Xiang Nanli was a dead man lost to history.
Dead men are the safest. They can be reasonably deified without the worry that they might suddenly reanimate one day to seize power. They can also serve as the spiritual pillar and faith for others.
In short, unofficial transactions that were better kept hidden from the public eye were always conducted within the Black Wall.
Today was no exception.
Luoyang logged into the Black Wall as a user. His spiritual entity materialized in the virtual space: an adult male Homo sapiens, ID Luoyang, User No. 2. This was unalterable data.
Luoyang was the second chairman of Immortality Tech and Xiang Nanli’s only student. According to historical records, he lived through the rapid development of the Omnics and the turbulent era that followed. He turned the tide during the crisis, introduced cybernetic prosthetic technology, and was the most vital founding father of the Human Alliance. In Year 23 of the New Calendar, Luoyang entered a hibernation pod due to “force majeure.”
That was just a polite way of putting it. In other words, everyone knew he had died of old age.
The current capital of the Human Alliance was named Luoyang City. This fact alone was enough to illustrate Luoyang’s status in the entire post-modern history of humanity. Yet, a man who was supposed to be dead of old age had once again logged into the Black Wall, this neural-linked virtual network space.
He appeared as a young, elegant man, looking to be around twenty-five. Mature, just right. Perhaps this was the result of numerous genetic injections. However, his eyes were incredibly ancient and serene.
Luoyang stretched his somewhat stiff body and walked forward. The temperature in his eyes gradually returned, masking the deadness and chill lurking in their depths. A gentle smile spread across his face.
In the pitch black, a bright door appeared. A message popped up in front of him.
Your friend [Alpha] has invited you to enter the meeting room.
Alpha, User No. 77. Lagging 75 places behind him. That fact alone was enough to make Luoyang wake up laughing in his dreams.
Naturally, Luoyang accepted. He stepped through the glowing door and entered the room.
The meeting room’s style was so starkly minimalist it was practically sterile, featuring nothing but a long rectangular table. Aside from the spotlight hitting the table, the surroundings were completely dark. Ribbons of light intertwined in the void on either side, giving off a highly advanced technological vibe.
On the left was the emblem of the Omnic Legion; on the right, the crest of the Human Alliance.
The other main character of this meeting was sitting at the far end of the long table. The distance between them was more than just these 15 meters; there was also an invisible, towering wall.
This wall was called species, it was called faction, it was called a sea of bad blood. There would never be a day of peace talks.
Luoyang pulled out a chair, sat down, and spoke in a slow, mocking tone: “Alpha, you always simulate a human body for yourself. Is it because you yearn for one but can’t have it?”
Alpha’s appearance was flawless; no one could deny his handsome features. He had impeccably groomed long black hair and a pair of overly translucent silver eyes. The faint fluorescent glow of his skin only added to his inhuman aura.
The implanted chip on Alpha’s earlobe sparkled brilliantly, matching the color of his eyes. He wore a high-collared uniform, specifically to hide the mark on his neck: “α0.0.1”.
In this era where humanity was almost entirely subjected to cybernetic modifications, the leader of the Omnic Legion completely simulated a human appearance.
Alpha spoke. “These are the blueprints he left behind.”
The Omnic’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion. Yet, it didn’t sound mechanical; instead, it was incredibly… moving.
Luoyang didn’t want to continue this topic. He cut straight to the chase: “Is there something you need to wake me up for? Time is very precious. I already handed Xiang Nanli’s cryo-pods over to you as agreed.”
A look of anger finally surfaced on Alpha’s placid face.
Luoyang took a moment to genuinely appreciate it before speaking in a great mood: “And it was more than just one. I’m very gratified that we both kept our promises.”
Alpha’s fist slammed onto the table. In an instant, he appeared right in front of Luoyang, but a glowing quarantine net materialized in the void and intercepted him.
Alpha crashed into the net until his head bled. Those eyes, which were supposed to be devoid of emotional fluctuation, were filled with fury as he glared death at Luoyang’s face.
Through gritted teeth, Alpha demanded, “Give. Him. Back. To. Me!”
A year ago, the Omnic Legion had amassed troops at the border. The most peripheral cities of the Human Alliance could have fallen at any moment.
It looked no different from the probing attacks of the past many years, but only the Alliance high command knew the true peril. Alpha had nearly cracked the key and deployed a devastating weapon—the sunspot laser beam built on Moon Satellite 2. If fully activated, it had enough power to pierce straight through the Pegasus Planet.
Thus, the negotiation between Luoyang and Alpha took place. Alpha handed over the key, and Luoyang handed over Xiang Nanli.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luoyang said, looking at a face twisted in rage. “I already gave him to you.”
Yes. Two hundred cryo-pods were secretly thawed the very next day and, after a half-year-long trek, delivered into Omnic territory.
All the soldiers who handled the transport were Alpha’s trusted aides, equivalent to the emperor’s royal guard. They reported directly to Alpha and were absolutely immune to electronic virus infiltration.
In the end, Alpha received 200 Xiang Nanlis.
They were disgusting clones, made by copying Xiang Nanli’s genes and embedding memory chips. Every single one of them believed they were Xiang Nanli and never suspected a thing. There were teenagers, young adults, and even a few in an elderly state—even though Xiang Nanli had never even lived to see old age.
“…Are two hundred Xiang Nanlis still not enough?” Luoyang tilted his head.
His answer was an even more violent strike. Cracks seemed to appear on the virtual glass shield. Behind Alpha, the red light in the void danced fiercely, like an aurora.
Luoyang poured himself a cup of tea and said unhurriedly, “You unweaned failure, what a terrible temper. You’re too far off from our original vision. Just who exactly polluted your source code?”
Alpha finally calmed down. He replied, “If you break our covenant, I will reconsider the peace treaty with humanity.”
“Me? Break the covenant?” Luoyang abruptly stood up.
The ceramic cup shattered on the ground with a piercing crack. Luoyang stared at him, his eyes gradually reddening, even showing a trace of hatred. “The Professor’s cryo-pod was perfectly preserved! You ordered the attack! The military forces I sent to evacuate were completely wiped out! Do you think just because you don’t admit it, it never happened?! I told you a long time ago—the one who killed him was you.”
Murder might just be a chop of the head, but words can condemn a soul.
Through that invisible iron curtain, Luoyang offered a provocative smile. “Even if the Professor were alive, don’t you think he would regret creating you?”
“War criminal,” Alpha spat. His eyes held undisguised murderous intent.
As he pressed his fingers down, the originally smooth light screen actually twisted and caved inward. It looked terrifying.
Luoyang looked slightly surprised and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to attack the Black Wall too? …Fine. The Professor told me not to play with madmen.”
“Logging off.”
Luoyang vanished from his spot. The moment he left, Alpha’s expression returned to utter calmness.
Alpha looked down at his own hand. The surface skin had been corroded by the light membrane, revealing the metallic musculature underneath.
“Heh.”
Alpha concealed the contempt in his eyes. Didn’t a hot-tempered, irritable dictator put the enemy at ease far more than a calm and collected legion commander?
…
…
Xiang Nanli’s spawn point was called “Gusu”, one of the eighteen underground cities of the Human Alliance.
This city was thirty thousand miles away from the capital, Luoyang. Despite its poetic name, it was a thorough peripheral zone.
Xiang Nanli originally thought that, having both hands and feet and being an adult male in such a technologically advanced modern society, he surely wouldn’t starve to death.
But facts proved he was still a bit too naive.
“Alpha. Recommend a capable profession for me, one where the salary covers daily basic expenses.”
System: “Understood.”
“Taking into account your physical fitness, educational certification, account balance, geographical location, and other factors, the system recommends the following legal jobs for you: None.”
Xiang Nanli was shocked. “I don’t even qualify to wait tables?”
System: “The service industry is basically fully mechanized. Human efficiency is too low. Moreover, using robots as waiters eliminates the need to consider ethical and moral issues.”
Xiang Nanli struggled for two seconds before asking, “What about illegal jobs?” Moral standards had to make way for survival pressure.
“One: Male prostitute. Requires paying forty percent of daily revenue as a protection fee. May encounter irreversible bodily damage, and revenue may also be zero. Recommendation level: 0 stars.
“Two: Drug tester. You can directly contact Dr. Andrew. Salary negotiable. Will encounter irreversible bodily damage. Recommendation level…”
Xiang Nanli cut it off. “Forget it, stop talking. I’ll figure it out myself.”
He couldn’t help but start looking up his past bank accounts, brokerage accounts, and things like Bitcoin. He was a man who almost became the richest person in the world!
Then, to his immense sorrow, Xiang Nanli discovered that his Citibank branch had gone bankrupt 800 years ago due to the war. He didn’t recognize a single stock exchange currently on the market. As for Bitcoin, it had been abandoned 700 years ago because its encryption technology was too outdated.
Sitting on the street of the bustling market, breathing in the (fee-charging and expensive) air, he spent a moment feeling the melancholy of a changed era. Then he spoke, “Alpha, navigate to the nearest bank. I’m going to apply for a credit card.”
Air fees, accommodation fees, and food were calculated daily, but a credit card was at least billed monthly. Of course, there was a five percent monthly interest rate.
The “credit card” was one of the Human Alliance’s basic security systems. Every resident over the age of 12 could apply for one, though the limits varied. It was essentially the Alliance issuing minimum welfare through the banks.
At the bank’s processing counter, Xiang Nanli flashed a friendly smile at the teller. “Brother Wang, this is my first time applying for a credit card. Thanks for your trouble.”
According to the scan from his electronic monocle, this teller’s surname was Wang.
Xiang Nanli was very confident in his face. After all, back in the day, when caustic magazines commented on his looks, they would casually step on top-tier male celebrities to elevate him, claiming the entertainment industry was doomed because guys selling their looks couldn’t even beat a guy selling his tech.
And his face definitely aligned with contemporary aesthetics; otherwise, the system wouldn’t have recommended he go streetwalking. As for why it was streetwalking and not entering the entertainment industry… well, that was obviously because all movies and TV shows were synthetically generated now. Virtual idols saved money. Plus, with brain-computer projects, people could experience things directly and immersively in their minds.
The traditional entertainment route was a total dead end.
Unfortunately, the semi-mechanized teller completely ignored his hospitality. “Based on the approval, your credit limit is 1000. The system will automatically raise or lower the limit based on your comprehensive spending. Of course, you are already at the minimum limit, so there is no room for it to decrease. Please sign to confirm.”
Xiang Nanli: “…”
Great. One thousand credit points. If he budgeted, he could survive for 11 days.
The credit card wasn’t physical, but a new line appeared in Xiang Nanli’s electronic inventory: Universe Bank Credit Card (Balance 1000).
Walking out of the bank, Xiang Nanli figured he couldn’t waste money, so he took a few huge gulps of air. Wow, I’m really profiting here.
Xiang Nanli asked, “What happens if I go to jail for debt? Do they feed you?”
The system answered coldly: “First, you will be sent to the surface ruins to perform hazardous waste cleanup. Second, you will be sent to the surface frontlines to fight the Omnic Legion. This continues until the debt is cleared. The surface is filled with xenomorphs, rogue Omnics, and various biohazards. Outside of certain safe zones, ordinary humans can hardly survive. You can also choose to rent or buy a standard hazard suit. The purchase price is 300,000, and the daily rent is 200 credit points.”
In simple terms, it meant becoming a slave—picking cotton or mining for the rest of your life. Falling into a reality like that was what truly sent chills down the spine.
In some ways, Xiang Nanli was a highly adventurous and radical person. He possessed an innate stubbornness and confidence, firmly believing he was exceptionally gifted and destined to succeed.
Xiang Nanli spent a day tracking down every single bank in Gusu City. There were 34 in total.
He applied for 34 credit cards. The lower limits were 1000; the higher ones 2000. In total, he managed to fleece 41,000 credit points.
Thanks to the draconian punishment system, credit card approvals were incredibly lax here. With location tracking and irreplaceable identity ID cards, where could a runner possibly run to?
The capitalists treated humans as mines, completely unconcerned about whether the borrower could pay it back. Furthermore, Xiang Nanli was a clean slate, applying for a card on his very first day. His credit limit was low, so even if they lost it all, it was a negligible loss. It couldn’t even be called bad debt. Therefore, every single bank approved him. For some, he didn’t even have to go in person; he just had to submit an electronic form.
By the time the final card was issued, it was already past banking hours.
A long row of credit cards populated Xiang Nanli’s personal account. He couldn’t even see the bottom when he scrolled down.
Alpha couldn’t help but warn him: “With all due respect, a credit card limit is not your asset. If you overdraw your credit cards, you will face massive risks.”
“I know.” Xiang Nanli nodded indifferently, taking a moment to sigh in admiration. “AI really has developed well nowadays. Even without an internet connection, the artificial intelligence simulation level is this high.”
“Alpha, help me buy Introduction to Mechanical Repair Principles, Neural Network Protocols online…”
Xiang Nanli rattled off a long list of book titles. They were all publicly sold basic textbooks. But added up, they weren’t cheap, costing a full 34,000 points.
“Also, book me a hotel for 20 days. Keep the total price under 3000. But it has to be in a relatively safe area—no shootings, robberies, or theft.
“The breathing tax for this period is 1814.4, leaving 2186. Allocate 500 for food and other potential unexpected expenses. Book a ticket to the surface and rent a hazard suit for 4 days.”
Xiang Nanli crunched the numbers in his head and nodded in satisfaction. “Yep, forty-one thousand, exactly.”
He didn’t book a return ticket.
If he couldn’t make the money on the surface to pay back the credit cards… then his only option was to become a drifter in the ruins.
Sure, the hazard suit had a tracking system. But it didn’t matter. Xiang Nanli believed he could disable it. If he couldn’t, it just proved he was obsolete, eliminated by the times, and his life was worthless anyway.
Besides, this life was a second chance he’d picked up for free. Every extra day he lived was a profit.
__
Author’s Notes:
The Black Wall: A virtual neural network and no-man’s land, temporarily acting as an absolutely safe neutral zone.
