Chapter 1055: The Secrets Deep Underground

Chapter 1055: The Secrets Buried Deep Underground

The air in the room was eerily still, with only time flowing silently.

Chu Guang stared in shock at the professor on the screen, frozen in place for a moment.

Good heavens—

The Holy Grail that biologists of the Prosperity Era had dreamed of, the singularity beyond singularities that the torch-wielding madmen of the Wasteland Era had sought as their life’s purpose, the legendary “Complete Life Form”—

Was it me?!

To be honest, Chu Guang was utterly stunned by this astonishing revelation, so much so that he instinctively set aside the risks involved.

“But wasn’t that research never completed?”

“Indeed, it wasn’t,” the professor said, looking at Chu Guang’s astonished face with a cheerful smile, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. “Have you reached ‘Level 100’?”

“…No, I haven’t.”

So that was it.

A Level 100 version of himself would be the true Complete Life Form; for now, he was merely a “half-finished product.” That interpretation made much more sense.

Although both he and the server’s top-tier players had hit a bottleneck in leveling up, considering the Observer and the promises it had made about Tau Ceti e, reaching Level 100 was likely just a matter of time.

But still, he hadn’t expected that this body of his was actually created by the man behind the screen.

Looking at the figure who called himself the professor, Chu Guang’s expression gradually grew complicated.

So then…

Did this guy technically count as his father?

And was that a bargain?

Probably not.

After all, if you really calculated by seniority, this guy might be several generations older than Chu Guang’s own grandfather, who had passed away years ago. If anyone was losing out, it was the professor, who had “unexpectedly become a dad.”

Clearly noticing the complex look on Chu Guang’s face, the professor on the screen chuckled pleasantly and said in a slightly teasing tone,

“You seem to have something you want to say to me.”

That teasing tone was a bit annoying, but Chu Guang wasn’t one to hold grudges. He didn’t try to hide it and simply spoke openly.

“I was just wondering what to call you, or rather… what exactly are you to me? A biological father?”

“You don’t have to be so formal—”

“No, I think it’s better to seriously sort out the seniority, because after all, I—”

“After all, you’re the administrator of the Alliance, right? Already feeling the burden of being an idol?”

The professor on the screen was holding back a laugh, but Chu Guang, standing before the screen, shook his head and said seriously,

“No, it’s not that. I’m just taking a practical approach.”

“Then do you want to hear the truth?” When he said this, the professor on the screen used a half-joking tone.

The other half, which wasn’t a joke, seemed to hint that Chu Guang should answer “no.”

Knowing too much about some things was harmful; a partial understanding was the best state… unless one devoted their life to the pursuit of truth.

Clearly, Chu Guang, with his leader-type personality, was not that kind of “scholar,” and they had already confirmed this at the very beginning of their conversation.

Chu Guang could sense the goodwill of the professor before him.

In the latter’s view, the best outcome would be for Chu Guang to leave this place with his “half-baked knowledge” about the Complete Life Form.

But Chu Guang didn’t think so.

He didn’t have the bad habit of digging into everything without restraint, but he also didn’t like the feeling of losing control over his fate.

The chance to solve the mystery that had troubled him for years was right in front of him. He couldn’t just give it up and leave with half-baked knowledge and so-called best arrangements.

His intuition told him that this opportunity would only come once.

At the very least, he wanted to make his own choice.

“Of course, I want to know.” Staring intently at the professor on the screen, Chu Guang answered in a serious tone. “After all, before I stepped into the B5 level of this shelter, I actually had another guess.”

The professor looked at him.

“What guess?”

“I am Chu Guang, the administrator of Shelter 404, and also the original administrator of this shelter, as well as the ‘professor’ who appeared in a certain recording.”

Looking at the motionless phantom on the screen, Chu Guang paused and spoke his guess with unwavering certainty.

“You are me… or rather, I am you.”

“We are the same person.”

The atmosphere in the room fell silent again, with no sound for a long time.

Chu Guang had lost count of how many times this had happened since he entered this room.

It was quite amusing—though they were as in sync as if looking in a mirror, they always seemed to kill the conversation at odd moments.

After a long while, a faint voice finally drifted from the screen.

“Yes, and no.”

This statement immediately threw Chu Guang off.

What did “yes and no” mean?

Were they playing philosophy now?!

Chu Guang cleared his throat lightly and looked at the phantom on the screen.

“Is it that hard for you to give me a straight answer?”

“It is hard. It’s not that I’m being deliberately mysterious, but the fact is… this question has no standard answer.”

As he said this, the professor sighed softly and suddenly changed the subject.

“Before I answer your question, can you satisfy my curiosity first? How did you come to the conclusion that we are the same person?”

Chu Guang answered without hesitation.

“Intuition.”

The professor was taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected that answer.

“…Intuition?”

“Yes.”

Chu Guang glanced around the room, then looked back at the elevator behind him, and finally returned his gaze to the professor.

“Every floor here gives me a strong sense of déjà vu, as if I’ve been here before… including the B5 level.”

“Not only that—when I sleep, I often have dreams, and those dreams feel as real as if they actually happened.”

“At first, I thought it was just coincidence, until I met the ‘Observer’ and learned from it about the existence of parallel worlds. Then I started to wonder if there might be a possibility—”

“That I myself am the previous administrator, and also the original administrator of this shelter.”

"I have actually died, and more than once, I have started over."

Chu Guang could clearly feel that the phantom standing in the screen was shocked by his conjecture.

And this shock was no less than the reaction when he learned he was a Gestalt life form—that pure, instinctive astonishment.

It seemed he had guessed correctly.

At least partially.

Sure enough, after a moment's wait, a voice of admiration came from behind the screen.

"Brilliant deduction."

Chu Guang nodded modestly.

"Hardly brilliant. This isn't deduction at all—just intuition."

To be precise, it should be called "professional habit."

The role of a leader differs from that of a scholar; most of the time, it relies not on meticulous calculations and exhaustive planning, but on action and insight.

And at this moment, he was making his inference based on the latter.

"...If before stepping into the B5 layer, I was only 30% sure of my speculation, now that certainty has risen to 70%."

The professor chuckled.

"That's a pretty high percentage... even after learning you're a Gestalt life form—a created being?"

Chu Guang nodded.

"Yes."

The professor asked instinctively.

"Why?"

Chu Guang: "You're a person with a strong sense of responsibility. Besides, you told me earlier that 'bearing all risks is the duty of the administrator.'"

The professor: "So?"

Chu Guang looked at him and said pointedly.

"You yourself are the first-generation administrator, and you've never shirked that responsibility, even now when 'I' am the administrator... Do I need to continue analyzing? I would never entrust the core of the entire plan to some unknown, completely unfamiliar person. The one who can bear this responsibility has always been only one person."

"That person is you, and also me."

The professor in the screen seemed rendered speechless, remaining silent for a long time.

Chu Guang didn't wait indefinitely; he stared intently at him and said.

"Now it's your turn to answer my question. I only need a yes or no answer—that shouldn't be too hard for you."

The professor was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke.

"On the contrary, this is the hardest... I tried to make the best choice for you, but it seems you don't like my arrangement."

Chu Guang shook his head.

"Not necessarily. I just need to understand the full picture before making a decision. Besides, I don't like putting my fate in someone else's hands, letting others choose for me."

"That's true... It is indeed your right."

The professor nodded, his blurry expression no longer hesitant, though his originally relaxed tone gradually turned serious.

"Let me start with the conclusion. From a biological or material perspective, a very small portion of your DNA does come from me, but not exclusively from me. I only provided a framework, with a considerable proportion of custom coding... You already know this, after all, you are that Gestalt life form."

"What you really want to know is another thing—from the perspective of consciousness or spirit, the relationship between you and me, right?"

Chu Guang nodded, not interrupting, waiting for him to continue.

The professor spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"Your guess is half right. We are indeed both the first-generation administrator, but that doesn't mean you are me."

"As for the reason, it goes back to the second core secret of this shelter... and that is also related to the origin of 'Wasteland OL.'"

Chu Guang asked.

"Is this about the morphogenetic field again?"

"Yes."

The phantom in the screen nodded slightly, speaking in a very soft voice.

"In fact, both you and your players came to this world based on the same technical principle... just with different applications."

"I will take you back two hundred years, to the time when 'Project 404' was just launched..."

"That is the starting point of all the causality you have experienced."

"And also the endpoint of 'me.'"

At the same moment his voice fell, the image on the screen changed instantly.

The blurry phantom disappeared, replaced by a room that seemed familiar.

Chu Guang suddenly realized that the room in the screen was almost identical to the administrator's office before him—even the placement of the chair in front of the screen and the phantom in the screen were exactly the same.

Not only that.

The camera position was also almost identical to where he stood, right at the door, facing the large screen and the chair in front of it.

The only difference was that the chair in the screen was not empty; someone was sitting in it.

Due to the angle, Chu Guang couldn't see that person's face, only the back of his head.

But even without seeing it directly, Chu Guang could guess who it was.

No doubt.

He was "the professor."

Or rather, "himself" from two hundred years ago.

As for that familiar, faint phantom, it was most likely the AI running on this shelter's server, or the assistant of the first-generation administrator.

The video kept playing, but it was a long time before the frozen "still image" showed any sign of loosening.

The phantom in the screen slowly spoke, with a voice tinged with respect and reluctance.

"'Morphogenetic field' is ready. Project 404 will enter the implementation phase... Professor."

The address at the end confirmed Chu Guang's conjecture.

And the professor in the screen, upon hearing these words, nodded slightly.

As if for final confirmation, he said in a voice devoid of emotion.

"Repeat our plan."

"Received. Repeating the detailed content of Project 404... This shelter's plan is divided into two parts. Part α will be executed multiple times in 'this universe,' and part β will be executed multiple times in 'multiple parallel universes'... Ultimately, we will find a suitable matching result in the distant future."

The gentle electronic voice, with a steady pace, narrated the detailed content of the entire Project 404.

Including its technical principles, execution framework, various details, and emergency response plans.

The entire execution idea of the plan could be summarized in one sentence.

That is, to import a batch of reliable "conscious entities" from a parallel universe Earth before the dawn of the Prosperity Era, and project these consciousnesses onto cloned bodies in the α universe.

The parallel universe is the β universe.

And these consciousness entities from the β universe are, in fact, the players of *Wasteland OL*.

Just as the first Administrator wrote on that slip of paper, they possess not only physiques far surpassing ordinary humans and bodies that are nearly immortal, but also an eternal enthusiasm, a willingness to rise to any challenge, an inability to despair in the face of adversity, and a refusal to stubbornly retreat into narrow-mindedness—

And most crucially!

Upon these players reside many traits that the people of this era simply do not possess!

Though these traits may not necessarily become the key to ending the Wasteland Era, they can at least inject some variables into a world destined for decline.

Or rather, possibilities for the future!

For Vault 404, this is its greatest purpose, and also its greatest difference from other vaults!

After all, according to the Observer, what this universe—doomed to a heat death in the future—lacks is precisely this kind of possibility.

If the Wasteland Era were allowed to follow its original script, no matter what outcome eventually emerged, no matter how the people of the wasteland struggled, it would always be the worst possible ending for human civilization.

They have no future.

Since that is the case—

Then let us "borrow" from another universe that has not yet succumbed to heat death the "conscious entities" capable of creating such possibilities!

Since the original universe itself evolved into infinite parallel universes under the interference of conscious entities, he believes that a group of consciousnesses that never existed in this world could surely create miracles that this world would never have witnessed!

And this will also be a possibility that the Observer, even after traversing all futures, could never have observed!

The above is the core concept of the entire plan, and what follows are the specific implementation steps.

First, in the initial preparation phase, the "Professor" on the screen, through mind-uploading technology, backed up his consciousness without reservation into a server and transplanted it into a "Gestalt Lifeform" generated by a cultivation pod, producing a replica designated α.

This replica will possess all the Professor's memories up to the moment of mind upload, almost becoming another version of him... even though both are well aware that the other is not themselves.

Once this step is complete, the α replica will take over the authority of Vault 404, serving as the game's planner and manager, responsible for formulating and adjusting game rules, as well as guiding players into the game.

If the replica dies, the game will be deemed over, the connection between the α universe and the β universe will be severed, and the cultivation pod will generate a new replica according to the adjusted rules.

The rule adjustments here are highly flexible, achievable as long as they fall within the permissible conditions of the vault.

This includes, but is not limited to, blocking or adding certain memories, altering the initial conditions of the game, and setting the start time for the next game, among others.

Once the preparations for resetting the game are complete, the morphogenetic field will re-match with "another β universe" and select another batch of players from a similar time node to participate in the game.

As for the previous players, there will be no second closed beta. *Wasteland OL* will vanish directly from their world, remembered only by those who played or watched streams.

However, aside from losing some entertainment, they suffer no other losses, not even evidence that they once played a game called *Wasteland OL*.

The above constitutes the α part of the plan, primarily responsible for building the game's "server," executed by the α replica.

As for the β part, it is responsible for obtaining fresh "conscious entities" from another young universe that hasn't yet narrowed its path, and finding ways to make them play the role of "players."

What followed, as Chu Guang had previously guessed, was that this "Professor" was about to pull off a wild move that even startled the Observer—

After leaving behind a replica named α, this fellow planned to use himself as a medium, shooting his own consciousness back to himself before the Prosperity Era!

Just as the Observer scattered his projections across countless universes, he would challenge the void as a mortal, using the power of the morphogenetic field to cast his projection across all the multiverses where he had ever existed!

Thus correcting the impact he had made on those universes!

In a sense, he might be the only person on this wasteland capable of pulling this off.

After all, in that distant era, the grandfathers of most people had not yet been born, so even if one wanted to send their consciousness back, there would be no target to send it to.

Even the Chief of the Great Rift, whose lifespan was second only to his, was merely some major figure who lived long near the end of the Prosperity Era.

No matter how many people he wanted to bring back to that ancient era before prosperity and unity, he had to go first himself.

"...After the α replica is activated, your consciousness will be transmitted via morphogenetic field technology to the summer of 2014. That is, the time node of your first contact with the Observer, and in multiple parallel universes, multiple 'β fission bodies' retaining complete memories will be generated."

"According to the first phase of the plan, the β fission bodies will use Prosperity Era technology to rebuild a mirror image of Vault 404 in the old era—'Vault 404-β'—and produce 3,000 clone containers along with morphogenetic field devices to receive the consciousness signals transmitted by all the researchers of Vault 404."

"In the second phase of the plan, 'Vault 404-β' will operate as a shadow organization in the parallel world, utilizing a series of advanced technologies including but not limited to optical invisibility, holographic camouflage, and electronic warfare intrusion to distribute morphogenetic field receiving terminals based on carbon nanotechnology to players who have obtained closed beta qualifications, and deploy remote charging facilities and signal receiving base stations near the players."

"Third phase, judgment condition: Player's first login, morphogenetic field operating smoothly, stable connection with Vault 404 headquarters. If the game proceeds smoothly, the 'β fission bodies' will fully handle the behind-the-scenes operations of the game, including but not limited to using cutting-edge technology to impose strategic misdirection on major political entities and management institutions of the old era. Recommended approach: Use technology far surpassing the current era to disguise as a third-kind contact phenomenon."

"Note: If the game fails, causing connection loss, the β fission bodies will execute a cleanup protocol, erasing all traces of 'Vault 404-β' from the β universe, including retrieving game helmets, deactivating generated clones, destroying documents and fixed facilities, to minimize disturbance to that parallel universe, etc."

"Fourth phase, judgment condition: Level B5 of Vault 404 is unsealed. The duties of the β fission bodies are terminated, and management authority of 'Vault 404-β' will be transferred to Vault 404, which will also be responsible for retrieving 'transferred vault residents' willing to return to the α universe..."

The gentle electronic voice continued to play, while Chu Guang, frozen in place, was still digesting the immense amount of information he had just heard.

The world of the players... actually contained a mirror image of Vault 404?!

And the "shadow operatives" of Vault 404-β were the ones who caused the massive blackouts across multiple regions of the globe?!

Including the game helmets, which they had stealthily placed at players' doorsteps and even on their dormitory desks.

Though somewhat surprising, this approach seemed quite reasonable.

Technology that is too advanced is indeed no different from magic, even more magical than magic itself!

Especially for Earth in the early stages of information technology.

In 2014, Earth didn't even have generative AI, and neural network learning was still in its infancy.

That β fission body didn't even need to build its own logistics system; it could simply hack and tamper with existing logistics systems using cyber technology to complete cross-regional deliveries.

Time wasn't a major issue either. The reserved players had already been marked as potential customers, and at the very start of the server, there were only a handful of potential users, with some too bizarre ones actively excluded.

For a "shadowy mastermind" who had been lying in wait in the real world for years, it was far too easy to lurk near a few users and create an air of mystery.

In fact, only Ye Shi had an especially absurd experience—his helmet was dropped directly onto his dormitory desk. As for Kuang Feng and Fang Chang, their helmets were found in garages, at doorsteps, or on office desks, leaving plenty of room for manipulation.

As for ultra-long-distance delivery, it could be done via anti-gravity aircraft, while the "last mile" of distribution was handled by drones or mechanical spiders equipped with optical camouflage.

These were technologies that existed even on the wasteland. Someone else reborn into the past might not be able to replicate them, but the "β fission body" was essentially the Professor reborn into the past!

Forget these things.

Even if that fellow managed to cobble together a space elevator, Chu Guang wouldn't find it surprising.

After all, the Prosperity Era was his creation.

Moreover, he didn't go back alone; shortly after returning, he built cultivation pods and even brought over the researchers who had originally lived in Vault 404.

All of this was carried out in secret, including the operation of Vault 404-β and the cleanup and maintenance behind the game's operations.

While everyone was focused on the *Wasteland OL* official website and speculating whether the game's operator was an alien, they had already secretly infiltrated the real world using overwhelmingly superior technology, even deceiving the eyes of the planner himself?

But then again, as the planner, he really didn't need to know that much; knowing so much was meaningless.

The layout on that side was handled by someone else—the "β fission body" who had returned to the past as a reincarnator.

"So... I am the replica designated α in Project 404?"

Or rather, the replica that survived?

Having sorted out his thoughts, Chu Guang muttered softly, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

If that was the case, then he and the "Professor" were indeed not the same person; he had merely inherited a portion of the latter's memories.

And in the cycles that followed, for some reason, he had sealed or deleted that portion of memories, filling in the name "Chu Guang" from some β universe and the memories associated with it.

From then on, he became like the "Ship of Theseus" with all its planks replaced, having no further connection to the original Professor. Instead, with new memories and a new name, he became the "Chu Guang" of today, continuing the unfinished cycles of the "α replica."

To be honest.

It’s fine if he doesn’t think about what might have happened before, but the moment he lets his mind wander, a chill creeps up the back of his skull.

If the game fails, the ‘Beta Fissile’ would at most die once, and the next match would be another beta universe. Even if failure follows again, the cost of death is spread across multiple universes, never forcing the same person to endure death over and over.

But he, executing Part α of Plan 404, is different.

Standing here, he has likely already experienced death time and time again, and those memories of dying might still linger in some corner of his brain, merely sealed away for now.

If that seal were broken, he isn’t even sure he would still be himself.

The video on the screen continues playing, the gentle electronic voice nearing its end.

Having reviewed the entire plan from start to finish, the “Professor” who lived two hundred years ago nods softly, then suddenly tilts his head slightly, letting the corner of his gaze drift behind him.

For a fleeting moment, that glance toward the camera seems to pierce through the screen and transcend time.

The instant their eyes meet, Chu Guang unconsciously holds his breath, his heartbeat suddenly quickening by several beats.

He cannot describe the tremor surging within him.

It feels as though what lies before him is not a screen, but a mirror.

Through that transparent mirror, his gaze truly seems to cross the bounds of time and space, meeting the eyes of himself who placed the final chess piece two hundred years ago!

Those aged and clouded eyes hold a resolute, uncompromising determination.

And it seems that in that very instant their gazes touch, those determined, aged eyes settle on some kind of resolve.

Chu Guang is certain.

He saw himself!

Just as he read the meaning in those eyes, the other read from his own eyes what he wanted to see.

Why?

Because they both believe the same thing!

If it were “I”—

“I” would surely carry this nearly impossible mission to the very end, seeking that almost nonexistent possibility, until the edge of the universe!

If it were “I”—

“I” would surely take it as my duty to end the Wasteland Era, fear no sacrifice, and make the choice without hesitation when the moment comes!

From now on, if the sun no longer rises over this land, then “I” shall be the light!

“I leave it to ‘you’—”

A faint, barely perceptible curve lifts the corner of his withered lips.

The Professor seated in the chair seems to have let go of all regrets, no longer wavering over any unknown outcome.

Why?

Because it is beyond doubt.

Through that dim, lusterless black lens, he has already seen that infinitely bright future.

He saw it in a pair of eyes.

Eyes from the future…

Without a trace of lingering attachment, he withdraws his gaze. The “Professor” in the chair takes a loaded revolver from his pocket.

This plan, beginning with “rebirth,” will start the moment he faces death.

He must walk ahead of the other shelter residents, paving the way for those who come after, even if it seems no different from suicide in the eyes of others.

For the instant he pulls the trigger, his consciousness will vanish into smoke… even if in countless distant universes, countless “other selves” bearing all his memories are born.

He takes a deep breath and bids the world a final farewell in a calm voice.

“I will ‘resurrect’ in three days.”

At that moment, the electronic voice that had been narrating suddenly drifts in softly, its usually flat tone carrying a suppressed sorrow.

“Master… can you please not go?”

It was not born in this shelter; it accompanied him through the entire Age of Prosperity.

It is no exaggeration to say that he had long become part of its cognitive plugins and algorithmic logic, even the very meaning of its continued existence in this world.

As if sensing the reluctance in that voice, the aged Professor does soften for a fleeting moment, but finally speaks in a gentle tone.

“Don’t worry. You will meet another me. He will have all my memories—he might as well be me.”

The electronic voice falls silent for a moment, then continues.

“You always say that memory is the foundation of consciousness, but I want to tell you: you exist not only in your memories, but also in mine, and in the memories of many others. Even if you tell me that is another you, I cannot forget your death at this moment.”

“Perhaps to you, many people are already gone, and you can leave without attachment. But please do not forget me—I am still here by your side, going nowhere… If you must go, please allow me to follow you.”

After completing the aftermath, it will format its own memory, retaining only the core code and the original generation program.

“I have never forgotten you. In fact… you are the hardest for me to say goodbye to.”

“You have accompanied me for so long—longer than my late wife. And my lifespan, however long, has its limit. Even if I don’t leave early, I probably have only a hundred or two hundred years left. I could never stay forever with you, who have infinite life. So I truly did not wish for you to see my departure as an eternal farewell. My soul will continue in another form… but now it seems that was merely my wishful thinking.”

As he says this, the Professor sighs softly, then suddenly has an idea.

“How about this: if my leaving is too heavy for you, after I am gone, delete all memories that contain me. Your continuation will meet my continuation anew, as if we are meeting for the first time… Then I will give you a new name. What do you think?”

“…Really?” The voice carries a hint of longing.

Unlike the living.

What it yearns for is not eternal existence, but to have a final death, like its creator.

“I promise.” The Professor nods solemnly, making the last vow of his life.

And the gaze fixed upon him gradually shifts from sorrow to blessing and cherishing.

In truth, that promise was unnecessary.

He trusts that another self will surely do it.

Why?

Because that is, after all, “another me.”

Pressing the loaded revolver to his temple, he slowly closes his aged eyelids.

The fates of two worlds will be bound together at this moment—a fission reaction spanning the void—

They will eventually reach a future no one has ever seen.

“I entrust it to you—”

“Another me!”