Chapter 41: Betrayal in the Face of Battle

Within the orbital fortress, there is no steel or machinery, only an endless, surging "tide."

Golden waves, composed purely of psionic energy, rise and fall incessantly, swallowing and revealing countless objects. Eroded wooden rafters, fractured pillars of marble, walls of shattered skulls—they seem to originate from different eras and civilizations, yet they share a single characteristic: they are the wreckage of things fashioned by human hands.

Looking through them, toward the deeper layers of the tide, one can see scattered human figures marching forward. Muddy paths worn by footprints, trails strewn with gravel, asphalt-paved surfaces—roads from disparate ages appear in the same space. Gazing upon this scene, any psionicist would inevitably be moved. This is human civilization; these are the paths humanity has walked, and they are also humanity’s future—the direction in which they are advancing. Everything weak and fragmented will be fused, unified, and transformed, becoming part of something greater.

In the farthest distance, the golden waves surge upward violently, forming a magnificent staircase. It is so vast and towering, like a high plateau, spacious enough for a nation to take root and flourish upon it. It is both infinitely distant and intimately close, as if millions of miles away, yet simultaneously standing right before the visitors, awaiting their audience. The concept of space is blurred; the gaps between illusion and reality quietly vanish, ravaged and forced to yield by a power capable of distorting reality itself.

Then, a second flight of stairs, then a third, until they coalesce into a grand staircase. A solemn throne takes shape atop it, dazzling like the sun, and an entity beyond mortal sight sits enthroned. It does not look at the challengers, nor does it gaze upon this space born of its own existence; the hollow vessel has yet to be imbued with the will required to drive its operation.

Yet, driven by their own volition, there are those who stand before it, resisting its majesty, blocking the advance of Mo Wen and his companions.

"Why! Why must you resist? Why must you come here and destroy this act of ultimate goodness that is nearing completion?"

"If we only wait patiently, we can complete this great achievement that belongs to all of humanity. There will be no bloodshed or sacrifice. Every accidental death will have a chance at resurrection. Humanity will usher in another evolution, following the psionicists and the New Humans. Qi Shiming and all the great figures who have not yet completely perished will be able to return. Those who have rendered service to humanity will endure, capable of making even greater contributions."

"Death will be ended, and all the problems we currently face will be solved with ease."

"Except for Mo Wen, if you simply abandon your resistance, I can teach you the method to link with 'Zero' right now."

***

Mo Wen treats the clamor beside his ears as nothing, silently raising his Dragon Blade to observe the enemies' weaknesses. Their original bodies have been completely evaporated, reconstructed instead by solid psionic energy derived from Zero, allowing every one of them to maintain a Level 5 energy state. They are powerful, and more importantly, this Divine Kingdom of Humanity supports them, allowing them to wield a portion of Zero’s own power.

Behind Mo Wen, Kuangtu sighs helplessly, "Buddy, you’re standing at the very front, only thinking about hacking the opposition to death, instead of acting as our representative and firing off some verbal salvos at them?"

"Fine, if you won't say it, I’ll be the mouthpiece."

"Among you, there have been those I admired, those I yearned to be like, people who truly changed the era. You used the technology you created to stir up the tide, but now I want you to answer my questions."

"Why didn't you dare to make this public to everyone after drafting the project, to summon the strength of all humanity, instead of acting so sneakily, even creating a fake, inferior version of Qi Shiming?"

"Why didn't you dare to complete the project methodically, instead of rushing it at this very moment?"

"Why, when you discovered flaws, did you want to erase them rather than using a more gentle approach? The impact must have a scope; couldn't you have put people into stasis, sent them away by starship, and retrieved them once the technology was refined?"

For such a grand project, there would inevitably be opposition and skepticism; exposing it would have invited far more obstruction than assistance, and in the end, someone would surely have tried to steal the fruits of their labor. Rather than letting everyone participate, it was better for those dedicated to the cause to achieve it and then gift it to humanity. The forgery of Qi Shiming’s survival was indeed necessary; he had used his powers too excessively in an era lacking psionic prosthetics, leading to his premature death. Without the ruse, the state of the world in the immediate post-war period would certainly have plunged the planet back into chaos. Furthermore, if a project can be completed, it must be finished as quickly as possible to avoid turmoil and sabotage.

Some among the blockers wanted to answer Kuangtu this way, but in the hearts of two of them, reflection began to stir. Why not use a gentler approach? Of course, because it was the only way... no, it was because of sloth, corruption, and the simple truth that "they hadn't thought of it." But as the smartest people in the world, how could they have failed to think of such a simple thing?

One of them immediately summoned their assistant machine, urgently recording and reminding the others: "The current stability of the consciousness network is lacking, making it prone to extreme thinking and cognitive blind spots. The degree of consciousness separation still needs fine-tuning to ensure we understand each other while minimizing negative effects. We need more time."

"Furthermore, it cannot be executed by us, who have already developed cognitive blind spots. I need a more stable environment and new assistants. Only after eliminating this flaw, which could lead to endless disaster, can we continue the project."

"This is my bottom line."

***

It is somewhat insane, but for a person who believes they are doing the right thing and harbors noble ideals, this is normal. With a formidable enemy at the gates, the possibility of the project being destroyed is far less unacceptable to him than the project itself being flawed. Even with success only steps away, he possesses the determination and perseverance to abandon it for the sake of a greater success, or even to start over from scratch. Yet, he cannot help but feel regret that no one had raised these issues earlier.

As for the other blockers, their response to him was naturally, "Impossible. Those things can be thought about later."

Then, there was nothing more to say.

Space was distorted, severed, and separated, and a piercing shriek rang out. The moment he confirmed his bottom line had been breached, this researcher turned his hand against his allies of the previous moment, helping those who sought to destroy the project to annihilate his own life's work. The other silent researcher also extended a helping hand.

Mo Wen seized this brief opportunity. As the authority derived from Zero was being unleashed, he struck at one of the blockers who was counterattacking in fury.

His blood splattered on the spot.

That blood was like flowing gold, like liquefied midday light, yet his death was not much different from that of a mortal. His body could not withstand Mo Wen's blade, and his spirit was far from indestructible. As his consciousness was erased, the information that constituted him was sliced into fragments; even power akin to a god's could not sustain his existence.

The remaining blockers fell into a frenzy. They gave their all, using the same great power derived from Zero to execute the rebels, but they could no longer correct the changed battlefield or Mo Wen’s lethal strikes.

This Divine Kingdom of Humanity was sliced into several battle zones, each independent, isolated by pitch-black rifts that were slowly healing.

The two researchers who lived for their ideals were dead. Their backup data and their influence on the battle remained.

Mo Wen and the blocker he was forced to face alone stood opposite one another.