Chapter 47: Saw… the Light
Xiang Nanli raised his arm.
The black armor followed his movement perfectly, carrying virtually no perceptible weight upon his body—it was as responsive as if it were an extension of his own limbs.
Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but exclaim in excitement, “How miraculous!”
Processed through the armor’s built-in speaker, his voice sounded eerie, deep, and slightly sinister.
His heart throbbed with excitement, a surge of adrenaline second only to the day in that dim mountain cave when he saw Xiu’s shattered, ruined body…
He wasn’t some kind of lunatic, of course.
It was just that the unknown realm always set his blood ablaze.
Controlling the dark suit, Xiang Nanli walked toward the main control room: [Alpha, I just realized—when the Temple recruits Knights, is it basically like a boss buying a corporate computer and assigning a wage slave to it? The real means of production is the computer, not the employee, right?]
Alpha lagged for two seconds: [Apologies, I do not understand your meaning.]
Fair enough. Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but miss Dongfang Qingdi.
Qingdi was much smarter than Alpha, knew how to trade banter, and even knew how to offer comfort.
He was diligent at folding quilts, too.
And he cooked delicious food.
Like that yellow-stewed chicken he made last time—fragrant, tender, perfectly balanced between savory and sweet, with meat cooked so soft it melted… even though what Xiang Nanli had actually asked for was chicken pot.
He couldn’t think about it anymore; Xiang Nanli was starting to feel a bit hungry.
In truth, when the Temple selected its Knights, physical stamina was just as crucial a metric as genetic modifications. The reason was simple: operating the black armor exacted a heavy toll on the human body. This drain was not merely physical, but mental as well.
The Knights were not only wage slaves—they were blood packs being drained dry by their own armor. Naturally, to extend the usable lifespan of these living batteries, the Divine Court was exceptionally generous to every Knight. Thus, even if any of them saw through the reality of their existence, few ever resisted. Most even viewed it as a supreme honor.
Xiang Nanli’s physical condition was much stronger than before, yet it still fell short of a Knight’s standard.
Fortunately, he shared a flawless compatibility with these mechanical constructs. Energy conversion occurred without a single drop of wasted power, just barely meeting the minimum operational threshold for driving the black armor.
To sustain the armor’s consumption, it was impossible for the driver not to feel ravenous.
Inside the helmet, an embedded miniature mechanical arm extended toward him, holding out a gel-like strip.
[Eat,] a strange mechanical voice sounded. [Eat.]
Xiang Nanli sniffed it, catching the aroma of beef, and took a bite: “Mm? Alpha? What is this? You can eat snacks inside this thing? The Apocalypse Knights get perks this good?”
Alpha spoke solemnly: [Based on scans, this appears to be the Temple’s Gene Serum mixed with nutritional paste. Also, it was not I speaking just now—it was this suit of armor.]
It was Xiang Nanli who had awakened the latent consciousness within this mechanism.
If Xiang Nanli were willing to spend time scanning the memories left in the hard drives of the Apocalypse Knights, he would learn of a legend that had long circulated within the Temple:
The armor they wore possessed life and intelligence of its own. Rumor had it that it operated on a path similar to AI equipped with anthropomorphic modules.
It was just that the suits usually held their pilots in complete disdain, never deigning to communicate with them.
Beyond that, even the lower-tier Apocalypse Knights knew nothing more.
The Temple’s technological hierarchy was shrouded in mystery.
Word on the outside always claimed that the Black Cross Inquisition had received targeted assistance from the AI Legion’s Marshal—namely, Alpha.
As long as one attributed any incomprehensible Divine Court technology to the evil Omnics and the dead Xiang Nanli, everything suddenly seemed to make sense.
Xiang Nanli’s chewing froze. “…So, should I throw it up?”
Alpha replied: [According to my offline database, no. But do not consume more than 50 grams.]
“What happens if I eat more?”
[You will be overly full and experience gastric bloat,] Alpha answered cold-bloodedly, already displaying a faint prototype of Dongfang Qingdi’s temperament. As expected of an electronic lifeform capable of infinite replication.
Fine then.
Xiang Nanli took one more bite and stopped.
He felt like Popeye eating spinach, his entire body suddenly surging with power.
The mechanical arm retracted the energy pack. A moment later, it reached out from somewhere unknown with a paper napkin and gently wiped Xiang Nanli’s mouth.
Though it was made of cold metal, Alpha somehow detected an unmistakable sense of doting affection in its movement.
Alpha: ?!!!
Holy shit, how can an AI be such a simping kiss-ass?!
Alpha decided to record the data for serious study.
With a soft click, a tiny hatch opened at the back of the metal helmet.
The extensible mechanical arm tossed the used napkin into the corner trash can with pinpoint precision.
Honestly, if the black armor had shown even a fraction of this tender care to its previous operator, the younger Knight brother wouldn’t have been scolded to tears by his elder brother every single day.
Composed and relaxed, Xiang Nanli arrived at the door of the main control room and knocked.
A moment later, the sealed heavy doors automatically slid open.
Inside, besides the City Master, stood several ministers and guards.
The City Master turned around, casting a glance at him: “What is it, Xiaofu?”
Yes, the original owner of this armor was named Xiaofu, and his brother was named Dafu.
Xiang Nanli said, “I remembered a private matter the Knight Commander entrusted to me…”
He intentionally lowered his voice.
The City Master’s voice raised slightly: “Hmm??”
“It concerns the Divine Court’s arrangements,” Xiang Nanli continued.
Though he actually had no clue what those arrangements were.
Either way, invoking “arrangements” was always the right play.
The City Master’s expression remained composed, but inside, a tidal wave raged.
What does this mean? Has the higher-ups finally decided to transfer me back to Yinshan City? He had slaved away in the Eternal City for sixty long years. Back then, he was exiled to this remote post precisely due to factional infighting. Even with the Gene Serum, he was reaching the twilight of his prime. It really was time to go back for a promotion and retire… But his old political enemies were currently in power, and the Knight Commander was precisely the evaluator they sent.
Xiaofu was the Knight Commander’s younger brother. Was the Knight Commander deliberately dismissing everyone else? The objective… heh, to solicit a bribe, of course!
No exiled official hoping for a transfer back could ever escape this extortion.
The City Master turned around and ordered, “All of you, step outside.”
Soon, only the two of them remained in the control room.
Xiang Nanli said softly, “There’s no time to go to the prayer room. Let’s turn off the surveillance here.”
“Going to the prayer room” was a euphemism.
The terminology came from deleted trash data he had recovered.
The function of a “prayer room” here was roughly equivalent to the “bathhouses” of the old days. In a bathhouse, soaked in hot water and stripped bare, people met in total openness without worrying about hidden recording devices. Though ever since waterproof recording pens were invented, the danger level of bathhouses had spiked as well.
A stiff smile broke across the City Master’s face: “Alright.”
He pulled out a key—a silver cross—and inserted it into the slot on the control console.
Across the originally pitch-black metal surface, a projection of light-sensitive keys flickered into life.
Standing behind him, Xiang Nanli watched his movements with keen interest.
The City Master expertly tapped out a sequence on the interface. A moment later, he turned his head toward Xiang Nanli: “It’s done.”
Those were the last words he would ever speak.
A massive hand of black metal clamped down over the City Master’s face as a razor-sharp blade severed his throat.
Although the City Master was a member of the clergy responsible for preaching, he had clearly taken Gene Serum. His neck was as tough as iron. Fortunately, Xiang Nanli’s hands were fast and precise enough to smother his screams.
Scalding blood sprayed over the dark armor.
Even after the head was severed, the body twitched once or twice. It reached out an arm, trying to touch the control panel in front of it, but Xiang Nanli grabbed the wrist and pulled it back.
Only after confirming the man was completely dead did Xiang Nanli release his grip.
He dragged the dead body into a corner of the room, then attempted to set the severed head back onto the neck.
This task proved somewhat difficult. Because the cut was so smooth and flat, the head kept rolling off. Left with no choice, Xiang Nanli crouched down and tucked the head directly into the City Master’s arms.
Xiang Nanli stared at him quietly: “May God bless you.”
He felt he ought to experience some emotion—fear, guilt, or even thrill.
Yet, there was nothing. A total, empty void.
Before today, he had never killed a human being, nor had he ever killed a fish. Yet the two felt no different to him now.
I am hungry, so I kill a fish.
I want to open the city gates, so I eliminate the City Master.
“I…” Xiang Nanli looked down at his arms clad in black armor. The long metal fingers were assembled from overlapping plates, resembling the exoskeleton of an arthropod. “I feel fear. And confusion.”
[According to scans, your mental state is entirely normal,] Alpha paused briefly before continuing, [However, I believe you are doing something extraordinary.]
The corner of Xiang Nanli’s mouth twitched slightly, forming what was likely a faint smile.
He returned to the control panel, where the silver cross key remained inserted in the slot.
The control buttons had no labels or manuals; Xiang Nanli couldn’t understand a single one.
Recalling the City Master’s previous actions, he tentatively pressed two keys. The surveillance feeds on the wall instantly switched to the main interface. At the very bottom of the screen ran a line of small text:
— Gospel Ship
— Version: 1.2.5
— (AI Assist System: Disabled)
Xiang Nanli navigated to the settings tab and checked the box to enable the AI.
A prompt box popped up before him: “Not connected to AI database. Please try again later.”
Xiang Nanli was, after all, an old relic from a thousand years ago; he really couldn’t figure out these high-tech systems… Wait, no.
“Alpha, show me the scanned documents from the library earlier.”
In one go, Alpha projected dozens of gigabytes of files. Clearly, it didn’t know which specific section was needed either.
Xiang Nanli flipped through the data for half a minute until his eyes blurred without finding the relevant section. With time pressing, he was forced to abandon the search.
Opening the access control system, he muttered to himself, “The inner city isn’t safe either. The monsters bred by the Temple might be even more dangerous than the Mutants. Mm… open the outer gate first, then the inner gate.”
Xiang Nanli pondered for a moment, then removed his helmet: “Alpha, do you know how to speak the local dialect of the Eternal City?”
…
…
Beaver was an ordinary civilian in the Eternal City.
She was neither as miserable as the serfs, who were forced to farm in the freezing snow, feed horrific beasts, hand over their harvests, and perform hard labor; nor was she as fortunate as the nobles in the inner city.
She was a simple textile worker. Every piece of clothing worn by the people in this city originated from the workshop where she was employed.
Her work earned no money; the Eternal City had no currency, maintaining the most primitive system of bartering. Every day, Beaver received three pieces of baked bread; every week, a tin of canned meat; and at the end of the month, salt, sugar, and oil. During the New Year, she could also pick out a few discarded garments left behind by the nobles in her workshop.
Beaver had never felt there was anything wrong with such a life. She was nineteen this year and had never once stepped outside the Eternal City. Her parents were the same. Her grandparents had been the same too.
The outside world was far too dangerous. For two-thirds of the year, temperatures plunged below minus ten degrees Celsius.
People often fled into the wild, only to drag themselves back covered in wounds—or to have their corpses returned.
Beaver’s family once possessed a book. Its paper pages were exceedingly brittle, said to have been left behind by her great-great-grandfather, who had received it from his own great-grandfather.
Inside were characters Beaver couldn’t comprehend. As a child, driven by intense curiosity, she copied those characters down and brought them to the most learned man she knew—the market administrator, a noble gentleman from the inner city. Upon seeing them, the gentleman’s expression transformed dramatically, and he interrogated her fiercely about their origin.
The book was confiscated. Her parents were taken away and interrogated for a long time, stripped of a layer of skin before finally being released. That was the coldest winter Beaver had ever endured.
After that day, Beaver never dared to care about those strange characters again.
Recently, she was preparing to get married. Her fiancé was a young Synth soldier named Gegun—the name of a medicinal root.
Her father told her that it was an incredible stroke of luck for their family that a warrior like him had taken a liking to her. In the future, his daughter would belong to a well-off family in the inner city.
Beaver had met him before. He was thin, not very tall, and possessed a shy disposition. The first time he visited her home, he brought two pounds of wild boar meat and a river fish. In weather this freezing, where could one even find a fish? He must have chopped through the ice to hunt it while out on a mission outside the city.
The thick fat could be rendered into oil, and the lean meat, preserved with salt, could last them for months if eaten sparingly.
Beaver had heard that Synth soldiers rarely lived past their twenties. Though she and her fiancé were not yet wed, she could already foresee the destiny of spending decades as a widow.
Whenever she thought of this, she couldn’t help but weep in secret. Yet those tears were never shed for herself.
The Mutant raid struck in the middle of the night.
The beasts burst forth from underground. Before people could even react, they found themselves plunged into a sea of fire.
Beaver was completely helpless; the towering Crawlers struck sheer terror into her heart. Unable to think, she ran toward the inner city purely on instinct, desperate to find a safe haven.
The gates to the inner city were locked tight.
The shadow of death loomed over every single person. Even the most lifeless, beaten-down serfs erupted with a desperate urge to survive. Curses, pleas, prayers—all was met only with the cold, unyielding stone of the city walls. Standing so close to the artillery launch sites, Beaver was nearly rendered deaf.
The Mutants closed in from behind.
The crowd trampled and crushed one another. Fear and despair spread like wildfire. Someone fell to the ground, but no one reached out a hand to help. Their pained cries echoed briefly, only to be swallowed whole seconds later.
The first wave of Synth soldiers scaled down from the walls. Their bodies bulged and expanded until they resembled giants.
“It’s the Synth soldiers!” The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
In that fleeting instant, they truly believed they were saved. In their minds, Synth soldiers were the absolute symbol of ultimate power on the surface.
Beaver’s fiancé was among them. Spotting him, Beaver clutched her lips, her eyes gleaming with hope.
Yet, they had celebrated too soon. The Crawlers hadn’t initiated the attack, but faced with human provocation, they showed no mercy whatsoever. The Synth soldiers were mauled by the gigantic Crawlers, swallowed whole, stripped of useful organic materials, and then spat back out.
Gegun was spat onto the ground beside a blood-red Mutant, completely unconscious.
Though Beaver’s heart was still consumed by terror, her body moved entirely on its own.
She shoved her way through the surging crowd, charging heedlessly toward the cluster of monstrous beasts.
Surprisingly, the Mutants paid her no mind. To them, she was merely an insignificant ant passing by, not even worth the effort of stepping on.
Terror made her tremble violently, but suppressing her panic, she dragged Gegun onto her back and carried him away as fast as her legs could take her.
Fresh blood soaked her heavy cotton coat.
Gegun had lost an arm and both legs; he was critically wounded. He looked up at Beaver, his lips quivering: “We… we aren’t getting married.”
Gegun was now crippled, but more importantly, he had lost his source of mutated evolution.
With injuries this severe, even if he survived, he could never serve as a Synth soldier again.
Even if he managed to stay alive, a crippled man held less value on the surface than a egg-laying hen. And how could a wolf endure becoming a frail chicken?
Gegun knew Beaver was a good person, but he didn’t want her to spend the rest of her life trapped in regret and resentment.
Beaver couldn’t speak. She held him tightly, crouching on the ground, weeping bitterly.
There were too many people crying here; no one cared about her tears.
Sometime later, a group of unfamiliar black-armored Knights descended from the sky, engaging the Mutants in a fierce clash.
They were few in number, but noticeably far stronger than the Synth soldiers from before. They hunted the Mutants with methodical precision—severing the Crawlers’ tails, slashing their hamstrings, and driving them into enraged roars.
Beaver was equally consumed by rage. Deep in her heart, she even felt a surges of intense hatred toward these savior figures on the surface.
If you could deal with them so easily, why sacrifice a whole group of people first?! On what grounds?!
Yet what use was her hatred? Her resentment was merely a sheet of sandpaper—even if she exerted all her strength, it would only scrape off a speck of black paint from their armor.
Beaver kept her head low, sobbing endlessly. Then, from the loudspeaker high above her head, a strange voice rang out.
It was a young man speaking the language of the Eternal City, though his pronunciation sounded somewhat unpracticed.
“Citizens of the Eternal City, hello. These Mutants will not attack ordinary people. I have now opened the outer city gates. Please head outside immediately for emergency evacuation.”
The speaker’s voice paused briefly before continuing: “I come from the Survivor Base. Please wait outside the city for further instructions.”
The crowd stirred. Shock instantly turned into wild ecstasy as the masses surged toward the exit like a breaking dam.
“I’m taking you out.” Beaver helped Gegun up, hoisting him onto her back. As she walked outward, tears streamed down her face: “We are leaving this place.”
He’s a grown man… how could he be so light?
She followed the panic-stricken, fleeing crowd, passing by the hideous Mutants and burning houses.
On this very night, through the wide-open gates leading into the pitch-black world outside,
She saw… the light.
