The deepest reaches of the Spirit Platform finally revealed its true core.
A bizarre structure floated in the center of the void, its entire body a profound ink-black, crystalline and translucent as if carved from ten-thousand-year-old black ice. Countless fine dark bones intertwined and coiled together, converging into a spherical mass riddled with ravines and grooves. At first glance, it possessed a certain fierce beauty.
This aura… Ling felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. It reminded her of those high-grade remains she'd excavated from the deepest muck of the Turbid Abyss. The difference was that most remains in the Abyss reeked of decay, madness, and chaos—but this cluster of dark bone was unusually solid and pure, without a trace of impurity.
Through its semi-transparent black jade surface, her consciousness could clearly see countless fine silver streams of light flowing within. These streams weren't like the memory fragments in the Turbid Abyss, full of hysterical screaming and chaotic turbulence. Instead, they were terrifyingly quiet. Each stream shuttled along its predetermined trajectory, breathing in and out, brightening and dimming, displaying a precision and regularity that was almost obscene.
That extreme sense of order made Ling—who was accustomed to chaos—feel both intrigued and instinctively itchy.
Looks… delicious.
For her, the best way to understand something was to chew it up and swallow it down.
As usual, she extended a tentative wisp of consciousness, like a greedy tentacle, trying to worm into the crevices of the dark bone to stir up those orderly streams—see if she could scrape off a piece and taste what this "order" was all about.
BUZZ!
The instant her consciousness touched the surface, the previously docile silver streams collectively turned red. An invisible barrier slammed outward, violently repelling her tendril.
Then that emotionless voice sounded directly in her consciousness:
[Warning: Unauthorized consciousness intrusion detected. Core area locked.]
[Please enter four-digit administrator password: _ _ _ _]
Ling withdrew her consciousness and stood before the firewall with its blinking red cursor, clicking her tongue in annoyance.
She was just considering whether to try brute force when a strange sensation suddenly washed over her. First came a fine, prickling pain, like countless ants crawling across the surface of her soul. Then warmth began spreading through her frozen sea of consciousness. The dim surroundings gradually brightened.
That bastard Dax outside had finally started injecting spiritual energy into this broken-down body.
As this external energy illuminated every corner of her consciousness like morning light, Ling finally saw the full picture. What she saw nearly made her choke on that wisp of spiritual energy she'd just absorbed.
The contrast was so jarring it left her speechless.
If you ignored the surroundings, the ink-black core floating in the center was absolutely an exquisite work of art—cold, precise, flowing with radiance. But the moment your gaze pulled outward, the aesthetic collapsed completely.
Extending from that refined core and connecting to the four limbs were "meridians" that weren't the legendary crystalline spirit veins at all. Instead, they were a tangled, limp, sticky mess of tube-like objects. They coiled together without any order, like a pile of rotting intestines draped around the core.
Some junction points were even plastered with layers of yellowed talismans. These clearly weren't drawn in the same batch—some had faded cinnabar, others had curling edges on the verge of falling off. They looked like snake-oil patches some charlatan had slapped on haphazardly, barely holding the spiritual energy together.
Hissss… hissss…
As energy flowed through these "tubes," several badly damaged joints immediately emitted sounds like air leaking from a tire. Pure spiritual energy sputtered out through the gaps, sparking static in the void like taking off a wool sweater in winter.
Ling looked at the gleaming core, then at the mess surrounding it, her brow furrowing tightly.
This isn't right. Even an old, neglected model shouldn't show this kind of extreme fragmentation.
It was like stuffing a Ferrari engine into a scrapped three-wheeled cart. The engine was spotless, not a speck of dust—but the tires were flat, the frame was rusted, and the fuel lines were drip-drip-dripping oil.
And the creepiest detail—the driver's cabin had been welded closed.
Wei, you old bastard… Ling stared at those hissing, leaking talisman patches, her eyes growing cold. The secrets hidden in this body are probably deeper than I imagined.
Despite her misgivings, looking at that cluster of black jade within arm's reach, radiating its tempting sense of order, Ling began scheming. She glanced back at the teetering talisman patches and the leaking meridian tubes, and an utterly absurd guess suddenly popped into her head.
She didn't hesitate. That greedy wisp of consciousness reached out again, heading straight for the orderly streams running inside the core, as if to pluck the strings of a zither.
That emotionless voice exploded once more in the depths of her consciousness:
Please enter four-digit administrator password: _ _ _ _
Ling's lips quirked with a hint of mockery. She casually tossed out a string: "One, two, three, four."
BEEP—
Password incorrect. Please try again.
"Tch, really not that?" She glanced at the meridian tube wrapped around her foot eight times over, her sense of absurdity growing. Could it be…
She parted her lips, channeling her maximum malicious speculation about these high-and-mighty Heavenly Court immortals, and spat out the four most intelligence-insulting digits:
"Zero, zero, zero, zero."
BEEP BEEP!
Two crisp, pleasant confirmation tones. The repelling force instantly vanished.
Then the previously emotionless system voice suddenly shifted, jumping up eight octaves into an extremely sycophantic, almost operatic tone that reverberated through her mind:
Password correct!
Welcome back!!! The Great! The Merciful! The All-Seeing! The Benevolent to All Living Beings! The One and Only Under Heaven and Above—WEI! XU! YOUR! EXCELLENCY!
Your radiance illuminates ten thousand ages, your wisdom shall be eternal…
"…"
"Blegh…"
Little Ear sent a signal from outside: Wh-what happened?
Nothing. Just encountered something Nasty.
As the permissions unlocked, a flood of information poured into her mind.
Among them was Primordial Code for Artifact Manipulation. The most closely guarded technique of the Vessel Forging Sect. Rumor had it that even ascended immortal officials needed several hundred years of cultivation just to grasp the basics.
Ling looked at it for three seconds. Then she froze. Not because she couldn't understand it. Because she understood it too damn well.
Those golden symbols that should have looked like bird-scratch gibberish automatically unfolded, deconstructed, and reassembled before her eyes. It wasn't rational deduction—it was something closer to physiological reflex, an instinctive resonance.
"Cloud Seals" became "commands." "Incantations" became "functions." "Formations" became "packages."
She didn't know what "commands" were, what "functions" were, what "packages" were. But she just knew.
The feeling was strange. Like a siren born in the deep sea who had never seen sheet music, yet could naturally open her throat and emit eardrum-shredding high-frequency vibrations. She had only been humming casually, shrieking by instinct. Until this moment, when she suddenly opened a yellowed music theory book and saw the rigid staff notation and the definition of "whistle register," and realized with a jolt—So what I've been casually breathing out… in other people's rules, it's a "sacred law" that takes a hundred years of bitter practice to even touch.
In this dry "instruction manual" full of stiff terminology, she caught her first glimpse of her own reflection.
She didn't know what it meant. But she vaguely sensed—between herself and this system, there seemed to be some inexplicable bond. Like looking at some kind of… kin.
She stared at all this in shock. Then a bone-deep shudder of epiphany ran through her entire body.
Those things she'd always considered "mysteriously profound" were never actually that profound. They had simply been artificially walled off—so that ordinary immortals, let alone mortals, could only stand outside forever, looking up, guessing, worshipping. And she? She'd been born inside the wall.
She finally understood what she might be.
Why could the "Calming Wine" she brewed pacify even the most violent wrathful ghosts? Why was her soul density so high that she could move freely through the chaos of the Abyss without being corroded? Why did she seem capable of swallowing anything, never getting an "upset stomach"?
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So that's how it is…
But—the most important thing right now is, since I've cracked your bullshit secret arts, isn't this body mine to modify however I want? Jiang Dax, prepare to die! I'm going to—
However, when she opened the "Performance Configuration Table" in administrator mode, her smile froze.
In the depths of her inner vision, an enormous pale blue display slowly unfurled, its text accompanied by stuttering afterimages:
DEVICE_INFO: DING-CHOU MODEL CELESTIAL MAIDEN
(Great Han Flagship Edition / Crafted by Wei Xu)
?? LOW POWER MODE ACTIVE
{ Core Processing Unit }
Status: Single-core 1.0Hz (Activation: 0.098%)
Note: Minimal metabolism only (Breathing/Drooling).
{ Codebase Status }
Rating: Legacy Spaghetti, Severe Redundancy
Diagnostic Report:
? Naming convention violation: Left foot variable `foot_left`, right foot variable `lower_appendage_B_02` (remaining 892,104 hidden)
? Legacy issues: 24,847 items
? TODO comments: "Deal with later" × 1,560
? Known bugs: Uncountable
CONCLUSION: CODE TOO DIRTY. OPTIMIZATION REFUSED.
…
Ling's gaze stopped on a line of densely packed usage listings. Inside this broken-down body, there was actually a background process called "Lotus Blooms With Every Step." Radiating a desperately crimson glow.
She tapped it open to read the description:
[Lotus Blooms With Every Step v3.2.1]
- Decorative Visual Effect
- Function: Each step causes a virtual pink lotus to bloom underfoot
- Bonus: 0.1-second sandalwood fragrance spray
- Current Status: Running- Resource Usage: 78%
Ling stared at that number for three seconds.
Just to maintain this tryhard bullshit—this body was using nearly of its background resources??
Ling stared at that "Lotus Blooms With Every Step" process frantically churning through data, so angry her consciousness was trembling. No wonder this celestial maiden could barely speak. No wonder the meridians leaked like sieves. So all the spiritual power—was being burned on these stupid flowers!!
She scrolled down. The long configuration table was a disaster:
【Background Process List】
? Lotus Blooms With Every Step v3.2.1
[78%] ?? RUNNING
? Celestial Grace: Flowing Locks
[12%] ?? RUNNING
? Beauty Filter Pro
[5%] ?? RUNNING
? Fresh Breath Protocol
[3%] ?? RUNNING
? Online Go
[0.5%] ?? STANDBY
? Heavenly Court Daily Gossip
[0.3%] ?? STANDBY
? Daily Outfit Recommendations
[0.2%] ?? STANDBY
...(89 additional factory firmware)
Available Resources: 1.0%
Status: ON THE VERGE OF COLLAPSE
Ling took a deep breath.
"Force close all of them."
"Lotus Blooms With Every Step—off."
"Flowing Locks—off."
"Beauty Filter—off."
"And all that other junk—uninstall everything!"
As the commands executed, Ling felt a tooth-aching from deep within the body, like rusted gears being forcibly pried to a stop. Then that suffocating pressure constantly squeezing her soul suddenly loosened. Her legs, which had felt heavy as lead—most of the spiritual power apparently perpetually standing by to generate lotus flowers—suddenly became so light she nearly floated.
The system sent feedback:
[ System Feedback: Operation Complete ]
Forcibly terminated the following processes:
? Lotus Blooms With Every Step
? Celestial Grace: Flowing Locks
? Beauty Filter Pro
Uninstalled:
"Online Go," "Heavenly Court Daily Gossip,"
"Daily Outfit Recommendations," etc. 10 items
?? Remaining 89 items are factory firmware and cannot be uninstalled.
Contact: 【 Manufacturing Division · Vessel Forging Sect 】
Before she could celebrate—the system popped up another warning:
?? [Environmental Adaptation Warning]
Due to closure of "Celestial Grace: Flowing Locks" glow effect:
? Environmental ray-tracing function limited.
? System cannot properly provide supplemental lighting for your Holy Countenance.
Recommendation: Keep process running in background.
* Note: Current visual quality downgraded to "Dull & Mundane".
Ling: "…"
She swiped the notification away.
Then—a glaring red popup forced itself onto her display:
? 【System Log: Component Runtime Warning】
● Component Name:
【Fresh Breath Protocol】(v2.4.1)
● Associated Process:
Environmental_Intake_Filter_Heater
● Status: [User attempting forced termination]
【Warning Content】
Core filtration unit detected to have lost thermal coupling support from "Fragrance Module."
If shutdown executed, filtration medium will experience "Cold Blockage Effect".
【Expected Risks】
1. Structural Integrity: Loss of protection against "industrial corrosive particles" and "toxins." Respiratory damage rate: +85%.
2. Core Contamination: Harmful volatiles will directly erode the core.
【Disclaimer】
Vessel Forging Sect (VFS) hereby formally states: Any filtration system failure, core meltdown, or soul dissipation resulting from manual closure shall be classified as "improper user operation."
?? Such damage is NOT covered under this Sect's "Century Warranty" agreement.
Ling finished reading all of this. She was silent for two seconds. A faint stinging pain came from her lungs, as if she'd inhaled a breath of fog mixed with ice shards. She immediately realized the warning wasn't a joke.
"Fuck your entire family, Wei! What kind of scam is this?!"
She finally understood completely.
This celestial maiden body's configuration, in simple terms, was: a scrapped Ferrari's engine, a three-wheeled cart's chassis, and a whole truckload of useless accessories hogging resources without contributing anything.
The key problem was that these parts had been outsourced who-knows-how-many times. To cut corners, they'd used nothing but nested functions. Writing "maintain life" code inside a "cosmetic effects" subclass?
Core functions and decorative programs were layered together, you in me and me in you. Want to uninstall "Fresh Breath"? Sorry, it's linked to the filtration system. Want to close "Flowing Locks"? My apologies, the ray-tracing module is bound to it. The entire architecture was like a mountain of spaghetti code—touch one thing and everything moves, move anything and everything collapses.
At this moment, a distant memory suddenly surfaced in her mind.
Long, long ago, she had once encountered a resentful spirit lingering outside a tavern in the Abyss.
The thing had been clutching a smashed keyboard, drifting back and forth by the entrance, never going inside for a drink. It would grab anyone passing by and ramble on, repeating the same few lines over and over:
"Why did I have to tinker with it… it was running fine, why did I have to change it…"
"Why couldn't I just leave it alone…"
"It's over. It's all over…"
At the time, Ling had found it baffling.
She later heard the thing had thrown itself into the deepest reaches of the Abyss.
By now, it had probably become one with its keyboard—transformed into dark bone at the bottom of the Abyss, never to dissipate.
Ling had once scoffed at this.
But now…
She stared at the sprawling, "beautiful vessel" before her—where touching one thing would move everything.
She suddenly understood.
This was the body she'd have to use going forward.
Ling closed her eyes. Then opened them.
She ground her teeth silently over that name, mentally reserving him the number-one spot on her "to steep in wine" list.
She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the urge to chew up Wei 's ancestors for eighteen generations.
After scraping up the last bite of rice, she patiently checked the data panel again. Sure enough, the values had improved significantly…
Looking at that number jumping from 0.098% to 1.0%, she raised her head in despair, gazing once more at that massive, profound, ice-cold black crystalline core in the center. That "brain" that existed on a completely different layer from the surrounding mess of pipes—full of premium-grade sophistication—now had only a single inconspicuous corner lit up. That pitiful sliver of light appeared extremely faint in the vast sea of consciousness, like a sparkler about to be snuffed out by the wind.
System notification:
System restart complete. Entering low-power safe mode.
Ling said nothing, withdrawing from the backend. Her consciousness looked rather forlorn amid all those red error lights. The road ahead is long and winding. Something this embarrassing absolutely could not be allowed to spread back to the Abyss.
"Little Ear, if you dare blab about this, I don't mind taking you down with me."
Little Ear: "…"
Ling coldly noted this down in her heart.
But on the outside, she slowly raised her head and smiled at Dax:
"Understood, Boss Jiang. I will … … ."
This game had only just begun.
?? A Letter from Ling: Transmission #002
— Ling