Chapter 219: The Vanished Computer

Chapter 219 The Vanished Computer

In truth, Chen Jian no longer harbored great hope for Project 008.

The Flower City had been here for years; no matter how many treasures lay within, they had long since been ravaged by its denizens.

The chief reason he sought entry to Project 008 was, above all, to procure the data hidden inside.

He yearned to discover why this installation had slipped into a half‑ruined state.

That cause was of paramount importance; while it might not unmask the Great Cataclysm outright, it could very well furnish clues about the “secondary calamities.”

The more clues he gathered, the more deftly he could navigate the trials that lay ahead.

And for that very reason, when the Mechanical Church seized the Flower City and he finally stood at the entrance of Project 008—now transformed into a sprawling, dilapidated warehouse whose original visage was all but unrecognizable—his emotions remained unmoved.

Even as his eyes fell upon the precision‑crafted nuclear‑fusion core, already dragged out, its laser apparatus repurposed into some crude “weapon device” and long since defunct, he showed not a hint of disappointment.

It was Lei Jie who seethed with anguish over the whole scene.

“Dammit, those idiotic Flower City scum!”

“Everything good they get in their hands ends up ruined!”

“Laser igniter! Used as a makeshift laser gun!”

“I’d love to shove this thing up his—well, you know where—and burn him from head to toe!”

“If you can’t use it, don’t touch it; if you don’t understand it, leave it alone.”

“Is that too simple a principle to grasp?”

“So many cannons, so many weapons, so much food—spare a little of that at least!”

“Industrial lathes could be salvaged for raw material, robots sold to the Mechanical Church as ornaments—why the hell are you tearing apart the fusion reactor!”

“What on earth is going on in that dog’s brain?!”

“Calm down.”

Chen Jian patted Lei Jie on the shoulder, soothingly saying:

“Perhaps they didn’t dismantle it; perhaps it was already like this when they arrived.”

“Bullshit! That’s exactly the style of those Flower City folk!”

Lei Jie spat, then continued:

“Did you forget they turned the jetpacks into flamethrowers? The fusion cores were 100 % ripped out by them!”

“I’m genuinely impressed—no wonder the wasteland’s dimwits never advance; they can’t even make use of good stuff when it’s placed before them. What more can I say?”

“Enough, enough.”

Chen Jian cut in again:

“Project 008 was already half‑destroyed; it’s likely that when they entered, the fusion cores—and perhaps the entire power grid—were already damaged.”

“Without guidance, it’s perfectly normal they can’t operate those systems.”

“Don’t lay too much blame on them—has the Mechanical Church finished its equipment inventory?”

Seeing Chen Jian shift the subject, Lei Jie forced his temper down.

He nodded, exhaled deeply, and said:

“The inventory is complete.”

“We’ve tallied 67 large‑caliber artillery pieces and thousands of shells.”

“There are even more firearms, but a great many are in poor condition; usable automatic weapons are few.”

“A handful of small‑caliber cannons, a few man‑portable missiles, a few anti‑aircraft weapons.”

“A smattering of oddly shaped personal gear, even a bending gun.”

“Vast quantities of protective gear, rockets, and grenades—still over thirty‑thousand rounds, which these Flower City folk will never exhaust.”

“Project 008 truly is a military installation; its supplies are primarily combat equipment.”

“That’s probably why the Flower City rose so swiftly.”

“But as the saying goes, they’ve ruined all the good stuff; what remains can’t be called bad, just… mediocre at best.”

“Mediocrity is better than nothing.”

Chen Jian waved his hand and said:

“Those dozens of cannons and thousands of shells are a major haul; we should find a way to ship them back to 011.”

“We can allocate some to Jinling—after all, the Mechanical Church won’t use them.”

“If they stay with them, they’ll eventually be ours again, and we’ll avoid the hassle of transport.”

“.Makes sense.” Lei Jie gave Chen Jian a thumbs‑up in admiration, then asked:

“Shall we go in now?”

“In, of course we must.”

Chen Jian donned his helmet and led the charge into the depths, with the others, including Xu He, close behind.

As the view from the main corridor had shown, the massive underground complex lay in ruin.

Yet it was clear that nature had left little mark inside.

That meant the facility had not been exposed for long.

It was human hands, not the elements, that had laid it low.

Chen Jian sighed wistfully, sidestepping the collapsed ant‑robot tracks from the ceiling, and headed straight for the stairwell descending deeper.

The composite‑material steps remained solid; their footsteps echoed through the cavernous halls, while tactical flashlights chased away the surrounding gloom.

“The living quarters are completely destroyed; everything here has been stripped out.”

“Deploy drones; let Fuxi scan the habitation zone, and we’ll press onward.”

“Understood.”

Fuxi’s voice faded in the headset as Chen Jian’s team continued downward.

They crossed the residential tier, the weapons storage tier, the industrial workshop tier, the self‑sustaining tier, and finally reached the power tier.

There, Chen Jian beheld the skeletal remains of a dismantled fusion apparatus.

“Just like 011, it’s a trio of fusion reactors, though the model here differs from that of 011.”

“Not a major issue; the entire power tier shows no signs of large‑scale damage—any destruction is merely the scars of disassembly.”

“The power tier likely isn’t the primary cause of the installation’s ruin.”

“It couldn’t be.”

Lei Jie agreed:

“Most of the equipment survived, which means when the Flower City folk opened this place, the support systems were still operating within limited parameters.”

“The power itself should pose no problem.”

"Even if a problem arises, it only occurs after the facility has been opened."

"Then only one place remains."

"The computational power chamber."

"Indeed."

Chen Jian continued downward, following Fuxi's guidance; they traversed the deep tunnel and entered the true heart of the installation, the quantum computing core chamber.

All the isolation doors there were already ajar, clearly having been ransacked by the people of Huadu.

Yet this was not the worst news.

What unsettled Chen Jian most was that the deeper they went, the fewer signs of human sabotage they found.

When they finally approached the innermost sealed chamber, even footprints had vanished.

The Huadu folk had not entered this area.

Or rather, they showed no interest in it, and thus never returned.

A foreboding premonition rose in Chen Jian's heart.

He switched his tactical flashlight to flood mode and strode straight toward the sealed chamber.

And just as he turned toward the side of the chamber, a sudden unease prickled his senses.

The final isolation door of the chamber stood open.

Inside, it was utterly empty.

The quantum computer that should have been stationed there had disappeared.

Someone had taken it away.

It was taken, not dismantled.

For those quantum machines, together with their massive cooling bases, had vanished completely.

Vanished without a trace!

(End of chapter)