Soon, Li Chunfeng recalled that earlier, when the network was connected, a multitude of information had flooded in. He thought he might try to go to that place.

  Without overthinking, Li Chunfeng hurriedly rushed toward the source of the network signals.

  The moment he reached the end of the road, he found what looked like a passageway.

  There, a wide road suddenly appeared before him.

  Occasionally, scattered specks of light flickered past, but Li Chunfeng had no time to examine them. He hurriedly ran along the road.

  A deafening roar seemed to thunder behind him.

  Looking back, Li Chunfeng saw that the direction he had come from was crumbling as if the sky was collapsing and the earth splitting apart.

  The scene was akin to a disaster flick produced in Hollywood—spectacular and apocalyptic.

  Li Chunfeng understood that the formatting process had already commenced.

  There was no way to retreat. The future ahead was unknown, but he had no choice but to continue forward.

  In a brief span, Li Chunfeng reached the end of the broad road. Without hesitation, he squeezed through.

  Huh... why did I think of it as "squeezing through"?

  The end of the path wasn't an open passage like in an office computer; instead, there was a closed door with a small hole. So, Li Chunfeng had to crawl through it.

  Almost the instant he entered, he felt a massive bright light rushing toward him.

  Li Chunfeng dodged in fright.

  Yet, he was grazed slightly, and an excruciating, bone-deep tearing pain shot through his body. He couldn’t help but scream.

  Li Chunfeng had never endured such agony in his life.

  The pain was so intense it felt as if his very soul was trembling.

  But he could not dwell on this suffering. He immediately rushed toward a square-shaped area in the center, purely on instinct.

  Behind him, the enormous bright star spun and chased after him again.

  Li Chunfeng summoned every ounce of strength he possessed. By the time he plunged into the small, square space, he was nearly out of breath.

  The bright star just barely skimmed the square and then ceased its pursuit.

  In that instant, Li Chunfeng realized he no longer felt the fatigue that had weighed him down.

  Yes, that sense of helplessness had diminished significantly.

  He finally caught his breath. Yet, the earlier pain still faintly echoed deep within his soul.

  Though his body no longer felt exhausted, his spirit was weak and fragile.

  Why did he feel so feeble? What form was he in now?

  Li Chunfeng quickly sorted through his memories. Images flooded back—one after another.

  He remembered being in an overtime meeting, then returning to his desk and coding for another half-hour.

  He also remembered reaching for his thermos filled with the health tea that Mengmeng, his partner, had painstakingly made.

  Then, he saw himself fall under the desk, his head striking the table and the computer case.

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  After that, the images disappeared.

  Had he fainted? But why did he possess a memory of watching himself fall? As if he had been observing from outside himself?

  How could he have been watching himself?

  Unless there had been surveillance footage he'd seen after the event—yet, there were no security cameras installed in the office.

  That was his last conscious memory—collapsing beside his computer.

  Then, when his consciousness reawakened, he found himself inside his work computer. How he got there, he had no idea.

  Based on his control over the computer, it appeared he had complete mastery over the entire system.

  The camera on the computer allowed him to see; therefore, if the microphone and speakers existed, he should be able to communicate aloud.

  The thought thrilled him.

  But then, he sensed a sluggishness—not as suffocating as a panic attack, but unmistakable.

  Li Chunfeng immediately forced himself to settle down.

  Sure enough, the sluggish sensation dissipated.

  He understood that if his thoughts became too muddled or intense, or if he grew too excited, the computer would slow down, or even crash.

  Thus, occupying this small square space meant he now controlled this computer—just as he had previously commanded his office system.

  That enormous bright star belonged to this computer. As he contemplated it, his consciousness automatically reached out toward the star drifting in the space.

  The moment he made contact, a torrent of information rushed into his mind.

  Surprisingly, that star was actually the computer’s firewall software. When he first traversed the passage, the star had scanned him as an intruder.

  Just a scan from the firewall caused the tearing pain?

  This realization instantly filled Li Chunfeng with panic. That meant he was not entirely safe here.

  Within the computer, many threats could jeopardize him.

  Could this small, square space be the CPU? And what was this strange domain surrounding it?

  Moreover, did this computer have a microphone and speakers?

  If so, he should be able to communicate with the outside world—find out what had happened to himself in reality.

  He began to scan with his consciousness. Soon, he discovered the device had no external peripherals—no microphones, no speakers, no cameras.

  In the process, he realized that the walls of this peculiar space were actually the hard drive’s directory structure.

  From the directory, he recognized this was the company’s internal server.

  He was familiar with this server; its performance exceeded that of the company’s office computers used by R&D personnel.

  It boasted a faster CPU clock, larger cache, more memory, and a greater hard drive capacity.

  Clearly, this strange space was much larger than his original office machine, probably correlating with the size of the hard drive.

  The reason he felt less fatigued was likely related to the increased memory.

  Despite the larger storage and RAM, Li Chunfeng still felt disappointed.

  This server lacked multimedia peripherals!

  He could not see or hear what was happening outside.

  What exactly was happening to him now?

  Within this digital realm, tiny specks of light drifted from time to time. Li Chunfeng knew those were some form of information.

  If he focused his thoughts, he could understand what they conveyed.

  Bored, he began examining them. Some were system notifications, some were network connection requests, others involved remote data access, and so forth.

  Suddenly, one piece of information caused his heart to race with unease.

  It was a timestamp: a full month had passed since his collapse!

  What had transpired? How could an entire month have elapsed?

  Had he been trapped inside the computer for that long? Why had he only regained awareness today?

  What about his parents? Mengmeng? Surely, they must be frantic with worry!

  In an instant, Li Chunfeng frantically scoured the server’s directory structures.

  This server was an internal public storage space provided by the company for developers to save files.

  Some stored trivial items, some used it for backups, and others stored personal emails.

  His search quickly yielded two emails.

  One’s subject line read: “Let Us Turn Grief into Strength, in Memory of the Late Li Chunfeng.” It was a company-wide email, saved on the server by an unknown person.

  The other contained a line: “How could our team leader just… die?” It was sent from Guo Yang, a team member, to Gong Hai.

  These two emails hit Li Chunfeng with a shock, as if an explosion had gone off inside his mind.

  The computer froze completely.

  It took ten full minutes before it gradually resumed operation.

  Though the reality that he was deceased was unbearably cruel, since regaining consciousness, he’d been inching closer to discovering the truth.

  Every step brought him face-to-face with the unbelievable.

  Now that he fully understood, it wasn’t as unbearable as he had feared. Still, the grief was crushing him.

  He had lost his beloved parents, his dear Mengmeng, many friends and relatives...

  Li Chunfeng looked gloomily at the tiny square space. Perhaps this was the place where he would reside from now on.

  If he tried to look on the bright side—at least he was alive.

  Yes, I am still alive! I am not dead!

  Maybe his soul had taken on this peculiar consciousness form within the computer.

  He could control the computer. If there were multimedia peripherals, he could communicate, and that would mean he was alive.

  Li Chunfeng kept encouraging himself. He was afraid of sinking into despair. This strange incident, so suddenly thrust upon him, must be faced correctly; otherwise, he might go mad.

  In fact, he was already nearing the brink of losing reason.