The rain in the Lower City had been falling for half a month, as if trying to completely taint this "Pigsty Alley" with moldy time.
Shen Qingqiu stood on the roof of Clinic No. 13, holding a transparent laser umbrella. Raindrops fell on the umbrella, spreading rainbow-colored halos. She looked up, her gaze piercing through the thick industrial acid fumes, looking towards the distant ceiling.
There floated a dazzling inverted pyramid city—Upper City District · Cloud Palace.
It was 30,000 meters above the ground. There were no elevators, no stairs, surrounded by a high-voltage ionosphere and the Nascent Soul level defensive array "Nine Heavens Thunder Tribulation."
"The success rate of physical intrusion is zero." Seventeen stood behind her, his black trench coat fluttering in the night wind. His purple eyes flowed with precise data analysis.
"Unless we possess the cultivation of the Nascent Soul stage and can withstand a nuclear-level tribulation, we can't fly up."
"If we can't fly up, then we'll 'choose' to go up." Shen Qingqiu closed his umbrella and pointed to the enormous holographic projection that occupied half the sky.
It was a blooming pink data lotus, with several large, gilded characters flashing wildly in the center, accompanied by deafening electronic ancient-style music:
[The Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance's Annual Masterpiece: "Ascension Creation Camp 101"]
[Mortals can become immortals! As long as you have talent, good looks, and faith points (traffic)!]
[The only ladder to the clouds! The only path to ascension! Auditions begin tonight!]
"Ascension Creation Camp?" Seventeen's brow furrowed slightly. The core processor used to handle combat data clearly couldn't understand this kind of entertainment-obsessed terminology.
"Is this... some kind of martial arts contest for marriage?"
"No." Shen Qingqiu turned around, looking at the man before her, possessing perfect divine looks yet completely unaware of this, a fanatical smile playing on her lips, befitting a "producer."
"This is **'Internet Celebration'**."
"In this cyberpunk cultivation world, spiritual energy is outdated. What gods need now is attention, click-through rates, and data on the fervent love of their fans."
She walked up to Seventeen, extending her index finger and gently lifting his chin.
Her fingertip traced his cold, jade-like skin, finally resting on his sensual Adam's apple.
"Seventeen, we're changing tracks."
"I don't want you to be a killer lurking in the shadows."
"I want you to be an idol standing under the spotlight, driving the whole world crazy..."
...Clinic Thirteen, changing room.
The operating table, usually filled with scalpels and prosthetic parts, was now a dressing table.
The vanity light turned on, illuminating Seventeen's somewhat uneasy face. "Does it really have to be like this?" Seventeen looked at himself in the mirror, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably.
His signature black vest and white shirt were gone.
In their place was a deep V-neck performance outfit made of a material resembling shimmering silk. The neckline was low, revealing a large expanse of taut, pale chest muscles, and the dark gold [Nano Divine Gold] source chip embedded in his chest.
That chip was no longer a concealed weakness, but had been designed by Shen Qingqiu as the most dazzling decoration—like a beating mechanical heart.
"Of course it has to be like this." Shen Qingqiu held an extremely fine eyebrow trimmer, meticulously trimming his sideburns.
"Your combat power is S-rank, but that's useless in a talent show."
"We're going to transform your 'lethality' into 'charm.'"
She put down the trimmer and picked up a box of holographic eyeshadow shimmering with tiny starlight.
"Close your eyes." Seventeen obediently closed his eyes.
His eyelashes were long, casting a small shadow beneath his eyelids.
Shen Qingqiu's fingers, glistening with starlight, gently applied it to the corners of his eyes.
It wasn't ordinary cosmetics; it was **[Visual Enhancement Code]** she had written. Whenever someone looked into his eyes, this code would automatically activate, overlaying a "deep affection filter" onto their retina.
"Alright, open." Seventeen opened his eyes.
Those originally cold purple pupils, now accentuated by the starlight eyeshadow, appeared eerily deep. Like black holes containing the entire universe, a single glance would be enough to captivate.
"Something's still missing..."
Shen Qingqiu scrutinized him, her gaze lingering on his black and gold mechanical right arm.
That hand was too hard, too cold.
Full of violent aesthetics, yet lacking a trace of worldly warmth.
Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment, then took a red ribbon from a drawer.
It was the red ribbon she had brought from the mortal realm, the one she had used to tie his hair in the Sword Washing Pavilion.
She pulled over the heavy "Xingtian's Grip," loosely wrapping the red rope around his index finger, which possessed destructive power, and then tied a pretty bow.
Black and gold, and crimson.
Slaughter and tenderness.
"This is your **contrast charm**." Shen Qingqiu nodded with satisfaction. "Remember, on stage, this hand isn't for crushing skulls."
"It's for... to solicit love from your followers." Seventeen looked at the red knot on her finger.
The absurd discomfort gradually faded, replaced by a strange, branded sense of satisfaction.
"Yes, ma'am, my...producer." He stood up and, facing Shen Qingqiu in the mirror, performed a **"idol salute"** that was no longer that of a butler, but a more flamboyant, more confident one.
... Central District · Neon Plaza.
This was the audition site for the 99th region of "Ascension Creation Camp."
On the enormous floating stage, the lights were as bright as day. The audience below was packed with people from all walks of life, waving glow sticks and screaming wildly.
Backstage, however, was a chaotic mess.
"Get out of the way! I'm the rising star promoted by the Fierce Tiger Gang! My prosthetic leg cost 300,000!"
"Pshaw, prosthetic leg? What's that? I had a 'succubus chip' implanted!"
The contestants were incredibly diverse.
There were wealthy cultivators covered in diamonds, berserkers who had transformed themselves into half-orcs, and several sword cultivators dressed in ancient costumes but carrying electric guitars.
When Seventeen and Shen Qingqiu entered the waiting area, the previously noisy space fell into a moment of deathly silence.
It was too clean.
Seventeen wore a flowing, deep-V battle suit, his silver hair tied up high, his right arm black and gold, and a red string on his fingertips. He had no superfluous adornments, nor any exaggerated prosthetics.
But the moment he stood there, he was like a divine sword sheathed, radiating a cold, aloof aura that made people afraid to look directly at him.
Shen Qingqiu, wearing sunglasses and a sharp black business suit (a system-generated agent skin), held a data tablet, exuding an aura of immense power.
"Which company is this?"
"Never seen him before... Is that face original? It's too perfect!" Whispers arose.
"Next! Number 1307, Seventeen!" The AI judge's emotionless voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Go." Shen Qingqiu patted Seventeen's back, where his spinal connector was located.
"Don't be nervous. Treat them like... data garbage to be processed."
"And you are the highest-level formatting program." Seventeen nodded.
He strode forward, step by step, towards the tunnel of light leading to the stage.
...At the center of the stage.
Three judges stood high above.
One was an elder of the Myriad Immortals Alliance (holographic projection), one was a popular virtual singer, and the other was the technical director from a renowned biotechnology company.
"Number 1307." The technical director adjusted his glasses, looking at the almost blank data sheet in his hand.
"No affiliation, no record of cybernetics… except for this right arm."
"We're looking for a trendsetting idol, not some clueless pretty boy. What's your talent?" All the lights focused on Seventeen.
He stood there, one hand in his pocket, his purple eyes sweeping lightly over the judges' panel.
"Talent?" His voice, amplified through the microphone, was magnetic and cold, like ice hitting a glass.
"I can't sing."
"I can't dance." A murmur rippled through the audience.
"What's the point of coming here if you can't sing or dance? Get off the stage!"
"A waste of time!" Seventeen ignored the noise.
He slowly raised his black and gold right arm, tied with a red string.
*Whoosh—* Nanometal flowed, and the hand instantly reformed, not into a weapon, but… a thin, straight beam of ghostly blue light extended from the palm.
It was a lightsaber.
It was also a sword of data.
"But I will… kill viruses."
Before the words were finished,
Seventeen moved.
There was no musical accompaniment.
Only the sizzling sound of a lightsaber cutting through the air.
Sword Dance - A Stunning Strike.
He danced on the stage.
It wasn't a graceful dance to please the audience; it was the simplest, most deadly killing technique he had honed amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
But under Shen Qingqiu's **[Holographic Effects Enhancement]**, this deadly movement became a visual feast.
Each swing of the sword left an indelible afterimage in the air.
Each turn was accompanied by the falling of data petals.
He was like someone who had carved a path alone in an invisible storm.
That was his unique violent aesthetics.
Cold, precise, yet breathtakingly beautiful.
The audience fell silent.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the man on stage, his silver hair dancing wildly, like a god descending to earth.
With the final movement... The lightsaber in Seventeen's hand vanished.
He stood center stage, slightly out of breath, a bead of sweat sliding down his delicate jawline and dripping into the hollow of his sensual collarbone.
The red string, still quietly tied to his fingertip, remained vividly bright.
"Good!" The virtual singer judge, who had remained silent until now, suddenly stood up, her eyes shining with excitement.
"This sense of asceticism! This sense of brokenness! This damn tension!"
"Pass! Must pass!" The elder of the Myriad Immortals Alliance also nodded: "Pure sword intent, unwavering Dao heart. A promising talent."
"Wait." The technical director frowned. "Technically, it's impeccable. But… an idol needs a soul. You need to answer one question." The entire audience held their breath.
This was the legendary **"Turing Test"** segment.
"What do you fight for?" The director stared into Seventeen's eyes. "Is it to become an immortal? For eternal life? Or for the love of these millions of fans?"
An ordinary AI might answer "For justice" or "For dreams."
An ordinary cultivator might answer, "For the Great Dao."
Seventeen remained silent.
He instinctively turned his head, looking towards the shadows on the side of the stage.
There stood a woman in a black suit and sunglasses.
She was smiling at him.
Seventeen turned back, looking at the judges, and also at the countless cameras pointed at him.
A faint, yet incredibly gentle, smile slowly curved his lips.
He raised his right hand, tied with a red string, and gently pressed it against his chest (where the chip was).
"I seek neither immortality nor eternal life."
His voice was soft, yet it traveled through the live broadcast to every corner of this cyber city.
"I stand here, only to..."
"To let someone see the light."
"She wants to see me shine, so I will... shine for her."
Boom— The entire audience erupted.
Countless young girls' hearts were struck at that moment.
"Ahhh! So swoon-worthy!"
"What unparalleled devotion!"
"Whether it's real or just a persona, I'm shipping them!!" On the backstage dashboard, Seventeen's "faith value" (votes) began to skyrocket.
From 0, it instantly surged into the top 100, the top 50…
Shen Qingqiu watched the constantly fluctuating numbers on the screen, took off her sunglasses, revealing slightly moist eyes.
"Fool."
She scolded softly.
"I told you to cultivate a 'cool and aloof' persona, who told you to cultivate a 'devoted lover' persona?" But the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn upwards.
Amidst the deafening cheers and neon lights.
Seventeen stood in the center of the stage, but only looked at the shadowy area on the side.
He climbed the ladder.
Not to pluck stars.
Just to turn himself into a star, hanging in the night sky where she could see him.