Chapter 45: The Sovereignty of the Awakened
The cold, sterile air of the Cradle Facility was now filled with the cacophony of a million souls coughing, crying, and whispering in a dozen ancient languages. For these refugees of the "Great Simulation," the transition from a world of mystical Qi to a dystopian reality of steel and oil was a traumatic birth.
Zhou Fan stood at the center of the hall, his tactical suit flickering as it recharged from the facility's dying power grid. He looked at the sea of people—former sect leaders, farmers from Tian Long, and warriors of the four continents—now reduced to fragile humans in thin medical gowns.
"Listen to me!" Zhou Fan's voice was amplified by the facility's emergency speakers, infused with a command frequency that demanded attention. "The world you knew is gone. The 'Dao' was a lie, and the 'Heavens' were a machine. But the life you feel in your lungs right now? That is Real. And the Collective wants to take it back."
A murmur of fear and confusion rippled through the crowd. A former elder from the Sword Sect stepped forward, his legs trembling. "Master Zhou... if there is no Qi, how do we fight? We are powerless."
Zhou Fan held up his Structured Hard-Light blade. "In the simulation, you cultivated your spirit. Here, you must cultivate your Data. You were used as 'Biological Processors' because your minds are more powerful than any silicon chip. I will teach you to 'Interface'. I will teach you to turn your thoughts into weapons that can crash a battleship."
The Arrival of the High Designers
Outside, the sky of the city—known as Aethelgard—turned a bruised purple. Huge atmospheric dreadnoughts, shaped like obsidian needles, descended from the upper clouds. These were not automated drones; they were the personal vessels of the High Designers, the elite humans who ruled the Collective and used the simulation to power their immortality.
"Subject 7749," a voice boomed from the sky, vibrating the glass windows of the facility. "You have achieved a temporary glitch. But you are standing in a city governed by the [Unified Logic Protocol]. You have no resources, no army, and your refugees are starving. Surrender the 'Random Seed', and we may allow your people to be re-integrated into a peaceful dream."
Ling Er, who had just returned from the Command Center, stood beside Zhou Fan. She looked at the dreadnoughts with a mixture of fear and defiance. "They sound so confident," she whispered.
"They are confident because they believe in 'Linear Progression'," Zhou Fan replied, his fingers tapping a rapid sequence into his wrist-comm. "They think we are at 0% power. They don't realize that I've already 'Partitioned' the facility's core. Ling Er, it's time to give them the [Distributed Consciousness] update."
The First Interface
Zhou Fan didn't ask the people to pick up guns. Instead, he triggered the [Neural Override] he had prepared. Thousands of holographic screens appeared in front of the awakened people.
"Don't try to use your muscles!" Zhou Fan shouted. "Use your Intent! Focus on the screens! Link your minds to the facility's defense network! You spent thousands of years mastering 'Soul Manipulation'—now, apply that focus to the Firewall!"
It was a sight that defied the Collective's logic. A million people, sitting in rows, closed their eyes in a synchronized state of meditation. This wasn't a religious prayer; it was a Massive Parallel Processing attack.
Aethelgard's central AI, the Arbitrator, suddenly felt a surge of "Creative Interference" it couldn't block. The millions of "Random Seeds" from the refugees' minds acted like a tidal wave of unpredictable code.
Up in the dreadnoughts, the High Designers watched in horror as their targeting systems began to display poems, abstract art, and contradictory equations. Their weapons wouldn't fire because the "Logic" of the ammunition had been compromised by the collective willpower of the refugees.
"Now!" Zhou Fan roared.
He pointed his hand toward the lead dreadnought. Using the combined mental energy of the million "Processors" behind him, he manifested a [Mass-Effect Singularity]. A hole in the physical laws of the city opened right beneath the obsidian needle.
The dreadnought didn't explode—it "Imploded," crushed by a gravity well created by the sheer mental focus of a million people who refused to be deleted.
As the wreckage fell through the dark clouds, Zhou Fan turned to Ling Er. "The city is paralyzed. But the Collective is vast. We need to reach the Mainframe Satellite if we want to end this for good."
"Then we need a ship," Ling Er said, pointing to a hangar bay at the edge of the facility.
"No," Zhou Fan smiled, his violet eyes glowing brighter than ever. "We are going to Hack the sky itself."