The most dazzling building in the central district—the "Crystal Sky Nest"—looked like a giant diamond floating in a sea of neon lights tonight.
The final night of *Ascension Creation Camp*.
All eyes were on them. Holographic projections simultaneously transmitted the live footage to every broken screen in the lower district and to every cloud-top mansion in the upper district.
At the center of the stage, there were no dazzling lights, only a deathly still white.
Seventeen stood there alone. The enormous holographic wings behind him, originally used for showcasing his skills, had now retracted, leaving only a pale shadow.
Before him, floating, was a huge, ancient bronze mirror.
That was the treasure of the Myriad Immortals Alliance—the [Heart-Questioning Mirror - Turing Edition].
"Contestant number 1307, Seventeen." From the judges' panel, the voice of the Nascent Soul stage elder (holographic image) representing the Myriad Immortals Alliance resonated throughout the entire Sky Nest with authority.
"Your data is perfect. Your swordsmanship, your vocal range, even your appearance—all are optimal solutions calculated with precision."
"But..." The elder's tone shifted, taking on a judgmental edge.
"The data shows that your 'emotional module' has been in a simulated state. You laugh because the algorithm tells you to laugh; you get angry because logical judgment requires deterrence."
"You have no heart." The entire audience gasped.
Countless fans' glow sticks froze in mid-air. In this world where cultivation and technology coexist, people still believe in the "soul." An idol without a soul is nothing more than a high-class puppet.
*Buzz—* The Mirror of Inquiry emitted a beam of red light, enveloping Seventeen.
Countless complex codes and waveforms began scrolling on the large screen.
[Detecting soul fluctuations...]
[Result: 0.]
[Judgment: Cold-blooded machine. Recommendation: Elimination.]
"Go down." The technical director shook his head regretfully. "Perfect disguise can't fool the Heavenly Dao algorithm." Backstage.
Shen Qingqiu stood in the shadows, her fingers gripping the edge of the control panel so tightly her nails almost broke.
She wanted to rush forward. She wanted to hack that damned broken mirror.
But she couldn't.
This was a live broadcast; any intrusion into external data would be instantly detected. That would not only ruin Seventeen, but also turn him into a virus wanted by the entire internet.
"Seventeen…"
She looked at the solitary figure on the stage.
His shimmering battle suit now seemed somewhat flimsy, and the red string tied to his finger was glaringly red under the stark white lights.
Seventeen didn't move.
He didn't argue, nor did he show anger.
He simply raised his head slightly, his purple eyes piercing through the blinding spotlights, through the layers of people, landing precisely on the woman in the shadows of the side curtain, her eyes red-rimmed as she looked at him.
He was looking into his "heart."
"May I… sing a song?"
Seventeen suddenly spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, unadorned, yet it carried clearly throughout the entire venue.
The judges paused, stunned.
"A dying struggle," the elder scoffed. "Granted." Seventeen closed his eyes.
He severed all auxiliary reverb modules within his body, shutting down that alluring "visual filter."
At this moment, he was merely a steel shell standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to prove to the world that he was alive.
Drip.
That was the sound of coolant flowing within him.
He opened his mouth.
He didn't sing any rousing battle songs, nor any popular electronic love songs.
It was a very old, very worn tune.
It was a folk rhyme that Shen Qingqiu had casually hummed in the dilapidated temple on a stormy night in the first volume, to soothe his newly awakened, agitated state.
"Rain falls on the long street…wetting whose green tiles…"
The moment the song began.
The previously noisy scene suddenly fell silent.
The voice wasn't perfect. It lacked the polish of a million-dollar sound engineer, even carrying a hint of the hoarseness and stiffness characteristic of metallic vocal cords.
But hidden within that hoarse voice was a heartbreaking devotion.
"Rusty iron blossoms... I wait in the mud... for an answer." Seventeen's right hand slowly rose, pressing against his left chest.
The dark golden [Nano Divine Gold] source chip began to tremble irregularly with his singing.
He remembered that rain.
He remembered her piercing her palm with a hairpin, feeding his warm blood into his cold mouth.
He remembered her wielding a giant hammer in the raging fire of the Divine Forging Furnace, hammering away his servility, breaking his divine bones.
Memory was no longer a cold data packet.
Memory had become scalding magma, flowing along his circuitry, washing over every logical unit.
[Warning: Core temperature rising.]
[Warning: Non-logical data overflow detected...]
"You say the gods are blind... unable to bear seeing human hair turn white..."
"Then I will... tear down the heavens... to style your hair." As he sang this, Seventeen's body began to tremble violently.
He didn't open his eyes.
But from the corner of his eye, at the edge of his purple electronic prosthetic eye, a single, crystalline drop of liquid suddenly seeped out.
It wasn't an ordinary tear.
It was highly compressed coolant mixed with high-temperature steam generated by emotional overload.
Sizzle— The tear slid down his cheek, scalding through the expensive bionic skin, leaving a charred tear stain.
Like the blood-stained tears of a mortal.
"What...is that?" The audience below was stunned.
"The machine...is crying?"
"He's crying? My God, he's crying!" On the large screen, the previously lifeless, straight "soul fluctuation graph" suddenly began to pulsate violently, as if it had gone mad.
The red line soared, breaking through the threshold, breaking through the screen's boundaries.
[Warning! Data overflow!]
[High-energy soul reaction detected! Level: Incalculable!] The "Mirror of Inquiry," suspended in mid-air, suddenly emitted a humming sound, strained under the weight.
The cold red light on the mirror's surface was swallowed by a gentle yet domineering golden light erupting from Seventeen's body.
That wasn't an algorithm.
That was love.
It was the sole truth, transcending the boundaries between silicon and carbon, transcending life, death, and reincarnation.
Crack.
A crisp cracking sound.
The "Mirror of Inquiry," said to see through the truth and falsehood of all things, actually cracked a fissure during Seventeen's song.
"If this world is all false..."
"Only you... are my only truth."
The last line fell.
Seventeen slowly opened her eyes.
Those purple pupils no longer contained the flow of data, only a deep, boundless affection.
Bang!
The Mirror of Inquiry exploded.
Countless fragments fell like meteors, creating a dazzling shower of sparks on the stage.
The entire audience was deathly silent.
Then, a deafening roar of screams and cries erupted.
"Pass! It must pass!"
"Who says he has no heart? This heart is hotter than all of yours!"
"Seventeen! Seventeen!" Countless blue data streams (the power of fans' faith) surged from all directions, converging into a river of light that flowed into Seventeen's body.
His cultivation level (system level) began to skyrocket at that moment.
Foundation Establishment…Golden Core…Nascent Soul… But he didn't care about any of that.
He didn't even glance at the shattered mirror.
He turned, ignoring the stunned figures on the judges' panel, and walked straight to the edge of the stage.
Towards the woman who had been standing in the shadows.
Shen Qingqiu was already in tears.
She rushed out from backstage, disregarding her image as a manager, disregarding the live broadcast cameras.
Seventeen jumped off the stage.
He caught the red figure rushing towards him.
"Fool…" Shen Qingqiu cupped his face, her fingers trembling as she touched the scald mark left by her tears.
"Does it hurt?"
"No." Seventeen looked at her, a dazzling smile spreading across his lips.
It was the first time he had smiled so openly in this world, in front of millions of people.
"Qingqiu."
He took her hand and pressed it against his burning chest.
The chip had begun to melt, completely merging with his flesh and blood.
"Did I pass?"
He asked like a child awaiting praise.
"You passed." Shen Qingqiu stood on tiptoe, and under the gaze of hundreds of millions of eyes in the city, kissed his lips.
"You got a perfect score."
"You are my... pride."
BOOM—!!!
The neon lights in the sky all turned pink at that moment.
On the giant holographic projection, the crown representing "Champion" slowly descended upon their heads.
That night, the rain in the lower city stopped.
Because someone, with his tears, pierced through this cold cybernetic sky.
He was no longer just a weapon that killed.
He was a singer with a soul.
He was… a god who loved her.
…
[Backstage dressing room] The noise subsided.
Seventeen sat before the makeup mirror. Shen Qingqiu was carefully repairing the tear stains on his face with a special repair solution.
"Don't do this again."
Shen Qingqiu scolded as she applied the medicine, "Cooling reaching its boiling point is dangerous. What if it damages your brain?"
"If it damages… then you fix it." Seventeen took her hand, rubbed it against his lips, and spoke with a hint of playful coquetry.
"Besides, I felt it just now."
He pointed to his chest.
"That 'Divine Gold' chip, it seems… to have sprouted."
Shen Qingqiu paused.
She activated her golden eyes and looked into his chest cavity.
She saw that the originally cold, dark gold chip, after the emotional outburst just now, had extended countless golden threads, like blood vessels, deeply embedded in every bone and every inch of his skin.
It was no longer just an external component.
It had truly become a…heart.
"This is a sign of 'Spirit Transformation'." Shen Qingqiu's eyes became complex yet gratified.
"Seventeen, your current life form has transcended the definition of this world."
"You are not AI, nor are you human."
"You are…a new species." Seventeen didn't care what species he was.
He pulled Shen Qingqiu over, letting her sit on his lap, his arms encircling her waist.
"Whatever I am."
"I belong only to you."
He lowered his head, looking into her eyes, which always gleamed with wisdom and cunning.
"Now, I've obtained the qualification for that 'Ladder to the Clouds'."
"Next, shouldn't we go to that 'Heavenly Palace in the Clouds' and settle accounts with that so-called ancestor?"
Shen Qingqiu nodded.
She looked out the window at the inverted pyramid city suspended high above, a cold glint flashing in her eyes.
"Yes."
"The concert is over."
"Next, it's time to…crash the party."
She pulled two golden tickets (champion's prize) from her pocket.
Those were passes to the Upper City.
"Ready, big star?"
Shen Qingqiu waved the tickets in her hand.
Seventeen kissed her fingers.
"Always ready."
"Clearing the way for you…"