Chapter 29.1
Following the instructions on the map, they arrived at a two-story building. Upon entering, the lobby was empty except for a service robot that approached them. “Please scan.”
Ye Pei and Mondrian had assumed Qi Yan would present some kind of application or permit. Instead, Qi Yan simply scanned his personal terminal, and the service robot spoke up, “Information verified.”
Ye Pei was still grasping the situation as they descended to the seventh underground level via the elevator. “We’re going in already?”
Qi Yan: “My friend has obtained long-term access rights, allowing us to request the use of ‘SkyLight III’ at any time. I borrowed his access.”
Ye Pei had no doubts. “I see! Your friend must be incredibly capable to have long-term access here. At our school, only professors have such access.”
Lu Fenghan, on the other hand, glanced at Qi Yan. When a person says “my friend,” that friend is usually the person themselves.
The entire seventh underground floor remained deserted. They followed the guiding lights to a metal door, where Qi Yan once again scanned his personal terminal, opening the door.
“SkyLight III” was equipped with over seventy thousand light modulators, occupying half a room with just its components.
Ye Pei couldn’t help but marvel, “I heard that if we used ‘SkyLight III’ as the carrier for the holographic games we play now, the game worlds would be indistinguishable from reality!”
“There are still differences.”
Ye Pei was curious. “Qi Yan, how did you know?”
Qi Yan averted his gaze. “I guessed.”
After the novelty wore off, Ye Pei, as the team leader, began to allocate tasks. She roughly estimated the time. “We’ll be here for about thirty hours. I brought plenty of nutritional supplements, so we can even double that time if needed. Just come to me if you need anything. Okay, let’s get to work!”
Their task this time was to decompose, mine, and organize a large data packet. Then, through processing models, they had to embed logic to form the correct data sequence. Finally, after importing the entire data sequence into an artificial chip, the robot carrying this chip should be able to answer corresponding questions.
This was the most basic process chain of artificial intelligence.
However, this entire set of operations was usually encountered in the third year. Mondrian and Ye Pei didn’t find it challenging, and neither did Qi Yan, who was currently focusing on upgrading processing models.
Lu Fenghan had never interacted with super-optical computers before. He had only heard of them.
The reason why the First Military Academy was so tight on budget, unable to afford even a weather monitoring and regulation system, was primarily because the academy had invested heavily in super-optical computers in its early years, using them to construct simulated battlefields.
Land, sea, and air battles were manageable, but space battles were the most challenging. With countless planets, nebulae, black holes, varying gravities, cosmic storms, asteroid belts… the space environment was complex and challenging to simulate. Only super-optical computers could handle it.
Coupled with the enormous ongoing maintenance costs, the First Military Academy remained in a perpetual state of poverty, so poor that they considered fishing in the river outside the school gate to sell for star coins.
Lu Fenghan still remembered when he first attended the simulated combat class, every instructor emphasized the importance of taking it seriously. They stressed that this course simulated a completely realistic space battlefield. The more familiar one was with it, the better the chances of survival when facing a real situation of piloting a starship to defend the stars behind.
Sitting down on a nearby chair, he couldn’t help but recall his school days. However, as time passed, most memories became hazy, and various emotions had faded away—including the frustration of losing fights in school and the sadness of facing a comrade’s death on the front line for the first time. These memories had been gradually blurred by time.
His gaze involuntarily shifted to Qi Yan.
He couldn’t help but remember something Qi Yan had once said, “That’s why forgetting is a gift from fate.”
Upon reflection, it did seem like a gift.
Whenever he focused on something, time seemed to fly by.
Lu Fenghan searched the Starnet but couldn’t find specific details about the frontline situation. He asked Vincent to provide him with a detailed account of the battle, then mentally constructed a starmap to analyze the reasons behind the defeat.
Although he had suspected from the outset that it was most likely the acting commander who led the starship straight into an ambush by the rebels, there wasn’t much to analyze.
Qi Yan and the others were also busy with their tasks.
In the meantime, Qi Yan also distractedly pondered the structure of “Pojun” and came up with a bit of inspiration, hastily jotting down a few notes.
In the equipment room, the passage of time was unclear. The walls were all metal, and even the windows that faced outward only connected to the underground. The lights were always on and never turned off. Qi Yan, apart from feeling a little sore in his neck, had no idea how long had passed.
Catching sight of Qi Yan’s subtle movement, Lu Fenghan approached and placed his hand on the back of his neck, giving it a gentle massage.
Qi Yan’s nape was fair, with smooth skin and slightly protruding vertebrae, tempting one to gently caress it with their fingertips.
Thinking so, Lu Fenghan did just that, but stopped after a couple of strokes, fearing he might leave red marks on the delicate skin.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on the control panel, causing Qi Yan to furrow his brows as he glanced at it.
Lu Fenghan lowered his gaze and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is attempting to invade the system and has triggered the firewall,” Qi Yan replied.
Both Mondrian and Ye Pei were equally surprised.
“Who’s bold enough to try breaching ISOC headquarters’ firewall? Aren’t they afraid of getting caught?” Ye Pei voiced her confusion. “Qi Yan, how did you notice?”
“I have a habit of running background monitoring when I’m running data for projects. If there’s an illegal intrusion, I will receive a notification,” Qi Yan explained briefly, contemplating for a moment before delving into the headquarters’ intranet.
His permission level was high enough that accessing the intranet wouldn’t trigger any security alerts.
Mondrian and Ye Pei couldn’t quite understand the commands Qi Yan was entering, but they gathered it had something to do with the illegal intrusion.
Ye Pei: “Qi Yan, what’s the situation now?”
“Someone is attempting to breach the intranet and deactivate the defense system at ISOC headquarters.”
It took Ye Pei a moment to process this. “The defense system? The one that intercepts bomb attacks?”
Qi Yan nodded. “Yes.”
Ye Pei’s eyes widened as she glanced at Lu Fenghan. “Seriously? Are the rebels really planning to attack Leto? Are you a prophet or just a pessimist?”
Leaning against the edge of the table, Lu Fenghan glanced at the screen filled with complex characters. “Not necessarily an attack. The likelihood of a ground-based photonic pressure bomb is higher.”
He sneered in his heart. The front line had just suffered a defeat, retreating from Turin Star to York Star, once again handing over seven mining stars to the rebels.
If they kept retreating like this, they’d soon reach Leto.
It wasn’t surprising that the rebels were seizing the opportunity to launch another round of bombardment, aiming for Leto and deepening the instinctive fear in countless people.
Lu Fenghan rubbed his fingers together and subconsciously reached for a cigarette, but he finally forced himself to calm down
Ye Pei’s closest encounter with war was back at Fontaine-1. “What do we do now? Will they really bomb us? Wait, we’re underground, so they shouldn’t be able to reach us, right?”
“They can’t bomb us. The security center at ISOC headquarters is manned, and the defense system won’t be easily shut down. They’ve reacted now,” Qi Yan said, pondering for a moment before moving his fingers to trace back the intruders’ origin through the traces they left behind.
This pursuit lasted a full hour.
Seeing Qi Yan’s intense focus and uninterrupted keystrokes, Ye Pei and Mondrian refrained from speaking loudly, afraid to disturb him. They only dared to communicate in low voices.
Ye Pei whispered, “Why can Qi Yan architect PVC93, accelerate the R9-03 model, and now help ISOC headquarters deal with intruders, while we can only… watch?”
Mondrian replied softly, “You know the answer deep down.”
Ye Pei sighed softly. “I wonder if one round of genetic recombination for me can reach Qi Yan’s level.”
Meanwhile, in the security center at ISOC headquarters, a fierce battle had just ended.
A young man moved his fingers slightly and exclaimed, “Got it! There were several of them on the other side, as sly as mice. They just jumped over a thousand temporary stations in a row, almost losing us! They were clearly well-prepared.”
“If we had lost them, the next attack wouldn’t have been from the Starnet. It could have been ten photonic pressure bombs. As soon as the front line suffers a defeat, the rebels are up to no good.” A typical German-blooded girl nearby stretched lazily. “We were too busy chasing them to remember to expose the identities of these ‘mice.'”
The young man who had just spoken suddenly pointed at the screen. “Wait… someone has helped us uncover the identities of the mice!”
Both of them stared at the lines of information appearing on the screen, which detailed the specific coordinates of the recent “mice” intrusion.
The young man was astonished. “With the coordinates, are we still worried about not catching them? But… could this information be fake?”
“It’s not fake.” The blonde girl pointed to a tower-shaped emblem in the corner of the screen. “Look here.”
The young man let out a small gasp. “Did someone from ‘the other side’ pass by and lend a hand? We’re incredibly lucky today.”
In the equipment room.
Seeing Qi Yan finally stop and start flexing his fingers, Ye Pei guessed that everything was fine.
Checking the time, she took out some nutritional supplements and asked Qi Yan, “I brought some coffee-flavored ones. Do you want one? They can pass as a meal replacement.”
Knowing that Qi Yan didn’t like coffee because it was too bitter, Lu Fenghan declined on his behalf. “We brought some too.”
Qi Yan was exhausted from the past hour. His fingers ached, and he didn’t feel like speaking, so he just leaned lazily against Lu Fenghan.
After a while, he felt a bit hungry again and instinctively reached into Lu Fenghan’s pocket for a nutritional supplement.
Qi Yan glanced at the seal twice, then tugged on Lu Fenghan’s shirttail. When Lu Fenghan looked down at him, he handed him the nutritional supplement.
Lu Fenghan tore it open and handed it back to Qi Yan, feeling a twinge of self-doubt — was he spoiling Qi Yan too much, hindering his ability to take care of himself?
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