Chapter 8: “I have a database.”
Silence.
Xiang Nanli closed his eyes, but the visceral, tragic scene remained vividly written on his retinas. He wasn’t a doctor, and aside from developing terminal stomach cancer at the very end, his past life had been relatively peaceful; he had never witnessed such a bloody, gruesome sight.
The shock brought by this direct visual impact was no less intense than when he had first woken up and seen the robotic doctor.
However, Xiang Nanli quickly reopened his eyes and began to observe the man before him with meticulous care. Eventually, to make things easier, he simply knelt on the ground.
His focus was entirely on the rupture in the abdominal cavity. The exposed wires looked like blood vessels, interwoven with what little flesh and blood remained, resembling some bizarre biological machine.
It’s incredible.
A strange light flickered in the depths of Xiang Nanli’s eyes; he was almost excited.
Flesh is weak; mechanical ascension is the way.
Strictly speaking, cybernetic modification and prosthetic repair were not the same profession. The former was classified as “Bio-Omnics,” while the latter was “Mechanical Maintenance.” These were two completely distinct fields. The foundational textbooks for Bio-Omnics were vastly more expensive and required a much higher security clearance—Xiang Nanli couldn’t afford them at all. Furthermore, there were fewer than ten Bio-Omnic engineers in the entirety of Gusu City; living a life of pampered luxury, it was impossible for them to ever venture onto the dangerous surface.
No one disturbed him.
Xiang Nanli lay low against the ground, raising his hand as he asked softly, “Do you still have any sensation of pain? Can I touch it?”
Xiu replied, “Go ahead.”
Xiang Nanli’s trembling hand brushed against the surface of the remaining metal plating. According to the tutorials, this type of metal was called a “Superalloy.” It was divided into three tiers: Plastic-steel, Resistance-steel, and Adamantine. The primary raw materials for the latter two originated from deep space, and their harvest yields were infinitesimally small.
While Andrew was also an omnic, he was fundamentally non-combatant, and his body was constructed from cheap tin plating.
Xiu was entirely different.
The core material of Xiu’s prosthetic alloy was actually Resistance-steel. Even when remarkably thin, this metal could withstand high pressure, extreme heat, and severe cold. The tactile sensation of touching it was magical—it possessed the texture of metal, yet retained the softness and warmth of living skin.
Although the once-intact prosthetic was now a mere ruin, the original structural framework could still be analyzed from the cross-section. Xiang Nanli felt it over and over, desperately suppressing the sudden urge to dismantle the parts and hoard them for himself.
Then there was that beating mechanical heart. The sea-blue glowing component inside had to be the “Energy Core,” a piece of black technology that Xiang Nanli could not yet comprehend. He guessed it was a highly compressed form of a small-scale controllable nuclear reactor.
He muttered in a daze, “You’re truly beautiful…”
It was too incredible—how had they achieved this? Machinery and a living organism perfectly fused as one.
During their first meeting, Xiu had been fully clothed, so Xiang Nanli had never imagined he was a cybernetically modified human. To think he could look this stunningly intricate once his uniform was removed. Carbon-based monkeys really needed to learn a thing or two.
Xin Zhui: “?”
Bodhi: “??”
Rock: “???”
Xiao Yan whispered under her breath, “Hey, where on earth did you dig this guy up? Is he actually reliable?”
By mainstream aesthetic standards, Xiu’s current state had absolutely nothing to do with the word “beautiful”; in fact, it was gruesome enough to make a child cry.
After a two-second silence, Xiu responded, “Thank you.”
Xiang Nanli clapped the dust off his hands and stood up. “Are there any modification blueprints?”
Xiu’s prosthetics were different from the mass-produced, commercial models detailed in the textbooks, which was exceptionally rare in Gusu City. If blueprints were available, the repair process would be significantly easier.
The System interjected out of nowhere, “The most common function for high-level Synths is to serve as personal bodyguards.”
It was incredibly difficult for an exceptional human to completely sever all social ties to protect another person. But a Synth could.
Xiang Nanli understood the hidden implication behind the System’s words.
Xiu replied, “No. Blueprints of this nature are rarely leaked to the public. The grand engineers are remarkably stingy, terrified that others might jeopardize their status.”
Xiang Nanli turned to Xin Zhui and said, “The raw materials available are insufficient for me to completely restore his mechanical prosthetics to their original state. However, if there are usable spare parts, merely restoring his basic mobility won’t be an issue.”
Xiu’s mechanization level was as high as eighty-eight percent. Essentially, everything that could be swapped out had already been replaced; only his head remained original equipment. Even so, numerous neural plugins had been implanted.
To expect a full restoration when dealing with massive structural deficits and a missing core chip was like presenting a chef with nothing but a single bag of rice and demanding a full imperial banquet. Any rational person knew it was impossible.
Xiang Nanli didn’t want to overpromise, avoiding the creation of unrealistic expectations.
As a contractor, managing a client’s expectations was an essential science. It dictated whether an 80-point deliverable would ultimately receive a failing grade of 60 or a perfect score of 100.
Xin Zhui responded, “I am aware. That was our objective from the very beginning; his prosthetics can be completely replaced once we return to the city. Right now, the severe structural damage to his chassis has caused his primary programming to malfunction. His energy core has been stuck in emergency defensive mode, which is highly unstable.”
(Emergency defensive mode: a fail-safe mechanism unique to cybernetic humans. When chassis damage exceeds 70%, the energy core will forcefully sustain the host’s vital functions using the stored reserves within the ‘heart’.)
Yes, replace them.
For highly mechanized individuals, swapping out their own chassis, organs, and even hearts was as casual and natural as upgrading to a new smartphone. They commanded physical bodies far superior to those of normal humans, and their lifespans were exponentially extended.
It sounded wonderful, didn’t it? But did all of this truly come without a price?
From an adjacent room in the encampment, Xiao Yan wheeled out a massive assortment of scavenged mechanical prosthetics they had managed to hunt down.
The collection consisted mostly of arms and legs, alongside various shattered fragments. It looked like a horrific scrap heap of dismembered Omnics. Some parts had clearly been violently ripped straight off an Omnic’s frame, given that the wiring hadn’t even been cleanly severed.
“The Donghuang Heavy Industry factory is right next door,” Xiao Yan explained. “We rummaged through the surrounding area. Take a look and see if any of these are a match.”
Xiang Nanli fished out his crude array of tools from his backpack, arranging them meticulously on the ground.
A hammer, a wrench, a screwdriver, two sensor lines, a soldering iron, and a thermal fusion gun. There wasn’t a single high-tech tool in sight; they were far too expensive, and besides, the textbook repairs he had practiced didn’t require them.
“Help me arrange these prosthetics.” He used the screwdriver to score a long, deep boundary line into the dirt floor. “Place all intact chassis components above the white line, including any internal organs. All other loose, fragmented components go below the line. Additionally, strip out all the power-supply lines entirely.”
(Power-supply line: a crystalline-structured data cable running inside an Omnic’s body, functioning similarly to biological blood vessels to distribute energy).
Xiang Nanli issued his directives as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Oddly enough, whenever Xiang Nanli spoke, his voice carried an exceptionally firm, absolute authority. His demeanor was so calm and collected, so entirely matter-of-fact, that it commanded subconscious obedience from those around him.
Xin Zhui was the first to move, beginning to sort through the pile of scrap. The remaining three slowly joined the effort.
Xiang Nanli grumbled under his breath, “So slow. If this were my laboratory, your wages would have been docked ages ago.”
The System chimed in, “Is that so? According to my records, there is no laboratory registered under your name. Would you like to run a diagnostic on your current mental state?”
Xiang Nanli: “…”
Since they were already on the topic, he muttered, “Alpha, why don’t you run it then?”
A few seconds later, the results materialized before Xiang Nanli’s eyes:
- Citizen ID: Q117-XJDHANSHJK (Temporarily Unnamed)
- Mechanization Level: 1/100
- Mental State Rating: C (Your neural activity is significantly higher than that of an average human, making you highly prone to over-excitation, insomnia, and hallucinations. You exhibit strong ADHD tendencies, which were largely managed after reaching adulthood. Your neurotic personality traits are quite prominent, with certain manic tendencies. No structural brain lesions or psychiatric illnesses detected; hospitalization is unnecessary, but please remain attentive to your psychological well-being).
Xiang Nanli thought gloomily to himself, It’s a good thing this feature didn’t exist in my past life. Otherwise, my boss would have found out that I was just faking manic episodes to get time off work…
The System had long grown accustomed to his erratic rants and completely abandoned any attempt to analyze them.
The sorting process continued, and Xiang Nanli walked over to select his components.
He isolated the required parts, placing them in a separate pile, before throwing himself entirely and unreservedly into his work. Xiang Nanli became blind to his surroundings; in his mind, a rough blueprint began to materialize, much like a 3D gray mesh model appearing out of thin air. The model initially manifested as a completed structure, before automatically fracturing and scattering into individual components.
This was the world through Xiang Nanli’s eyes—at this exact moment, beautifully clear and absolute.
He lifted a component and commenced operations. His movements were rapid and flawlessly precise, mimicking a meticulously programmed machine.
“The most difficult hurdle is actually figuring out how to get the new prosthetics to properly interface with the central control hub without causing a massive short-circuit during system initialization,” Xiang Nanli remarked, speaking aloud while assembling an arm.
Lately, he had grown accustomed to communicating solely with the System internally, bypassing the need to vocalize his thoughts entirely.
To the onlookers, Xiang Nanli had merely stared blankly into space for an extended period, his fingers occasionally dancing through the air to simulate movements, before abruptly diving into physical labor. Even as his hands flew, his lips continued to twitch in silent conversation.
Alpha: “Is that so? On the contrary, I believe you ought to direct your attention to his energy core.”
Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but glance up at the glowing, sea-blue heart. “What’s wrong with it?” He had lived in an era that lacked such a bizarre fusion of high technology and sci-fi fantasy.
“Didn’t that Synth mention it earlier? It’s overloaded,” the System paused for a moment before clarifying. “There is likely a significant voltage differential. Generally, there are three viable solutions.”
Xiang Nanli listened intently, and upon hearing the explanation, slapped his thigh in sheer excitement. “So that’s how it works!”
Shortly after, however, suspicion clouded his features. “Wait, how do you know that? Do we have network connectivity now?”
Alpha replied nonchalantly, “I have a database.”
Xiang Nanli’s eyes flared with intense greed. “If you have it, doesn’t that essentially mean I have it? Exactly how much knowledge am I missing out on? Can you compile it into a PDF and transmit it to me?”
System: “…Connection lost. Going offline.”
Hey! That is way too dismissive!
Xiang Nanli possessed an incredibly boundless reservoir of energy, particularly when he was entirely engrossed in a subject that fascinated him.
When he was a young boy, he had picked up a certain video game. He hadn’t realized that it was actually a highway racing game designed purely for open-world exploration, meaning it possessed no actual finish line. Xiang Nanli had stubbornly remained glued to the monitor for thirty-two hours straight without a single wink of sleep. Only after explicitly confirming that the game truly lacked an ending did he finally throw in the towel.
Following that, he obsessively forged a parent’s identity to file formal complaints with the regulatory departments and the gaming platform. He eventually hounded the developers to the point where they were forced to compromise their artistic integrity just to patch a finish line into the code. Only after tearing across that newly minted finish line and claiming the absolute No. 1 spot in a single-player game did he satisfy his obsession and uninstall it.
He was exactly the same after growing up.
It wasn’t until Xin Zhui gently tapped his shoulder and handed over a container of water that Xiang Nanli suddenly realized his throat was parched to the point of burning. Factoring in the prior transit time, he estimated he hadn’t consumed a drop of water or a morsel of food in nearly thirty-six hours.
Xiang Nanli set his tools aside. The sudden dissipation of his hyper-focus left him with a wave of dizziness so severe it made his head spin.
“I’ll catch a few hours of sleep after I eat,” he murmured weakly.
No one contested his words. In reality, Xiang Nanli had already been working at maximum intensity for fourteen consecutive hours. He was a primitive human who possessed neither cybernetic modifications nor genetic enhancements; if he didn’t sleep immediately, Xin Zhui was genuinely terrified he might drop dead from exhaustion.
The ration box provided by the client contained the following: a bottle of water and a single canister of nutrient paste.
The canister was a premium variant reserved exclusively for investigators, vastly superior to the cheap garbage sold in supermarkets. The moment the seal was broken, a crisp, savory aroma of meat wafted out—and it wasn’t the artificial, chemical scent manufactured by food additives either.
Unbelievable. You guys are hiding out here eating this well behind the public’s back?
Xiang Nanli lifted the can, scanning the ingredient manifest.
Ingredients: Beast Meat (100%).
“Why does it explicitly state ‘beast meat’ instead of chicken, duck, or pork?” Xiang Nanli asked, thoroughly puzzled.
System: “Alien meat. Do you find that terminology more to your liking?”
(Mutated humans were collectively referred to as mutants; mutated flora and fauna were classified as aliens).
Xiang Nanli unlatched the transparent visor of his protective suit before ripping away the black adhesive tape bound tightly to his face. The tape had been left on for far too long; upon removal, his pale face was flushed a deep crimson, the pressure indentations starkly visible.
His face was now completely exposed to the open air, though fortunately, the atmospheric radiation levels in this specific cave were negligible.
Xiu’s facial expression twisted into an incredibly bizarre contortion. “It’s you?”
When Xin Zhui had originally suggested venturing into the city to abduct a professional technician to render aid, Xiu hadn’t voiced any objections. However, he hadn’t harbored any genuine hope either; his structural degradation was far too severe.
The secondary alternative would have been to establish contact with the Investigation Bureau. The bureau would guarantee absolute confidentiality regarding the discoveries made during this operation in exchange for medical treatment. However, that “confidentiality” didn’t entail keeping a secret; it meant directly wiping the memories of this entire surface excursion from their minds.
The absolute best alternative was to contact his family. Yet, when Xiu had severed ties years ago, he had signed a legally binding covenant: the moment he relied upon family assets, he would forfeit his career as an investigator and return to participate in the inheritance qualification trials.
His family name was Luo. The Luo of Luoyang.
Luo Xiu wanted neither of those options. Thus, he had tacitly permitted Xin Zhui to undertake this perilous gamble.
Just a moment prior, Xiu had been quietly reflecting that the technician Xin Zhui had retrieved was remarkably capable and performed with immense professionalism. Perhaps there was a genuine chance at salvation.
But… but—the moment this supposed professional stripped away his mask, why did his face look identical to that ancient antique he had personally excavated from the cryogenic shelter a mere month ago?!
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【Unlockable Data/Lore Elements】
- Mechanical Core: The power reactor utilizing by Omnics or cybernetically modified humans. It is not standard issue for all cybernetics, typically being outfitted exclusively on combat-grade frames.
- Superalloys: Categorized into three overarching tiers: Plastic-steel, Resistance-steel, and Adamantine, each containing distinct sub-classifications. Among them, Adamantine stands as the most prohibitively expensive and exceptionally scarce material.
