Endless Debt

Chapter 1266 - 77: Vessel

Xilin’s invasion led to the Cultivation Room’s distortion, further causing the containment area’s collapse, unleashing various demons and devils, resulting in a small-scale Extraordinary Disaster: Inverted World.Bologue didn’t have time to empathize with her pain in the diary, but pondered deeply, perhaps the Decision Room understood the complex situation in the Ruins District and ultimately chose to abandon it, while Mamo indirectly guided him here, possibly serving a patrolling role.

If everything is annihilated, then let it be, but if I can discover something, perhaps I can change all this.

Waves of Ethereal Fluctuation came from outside, the security staff hadn’t given up, the intense tremors continued as they seemed to be relocating surrounding buildings, carefully searching for Bologue’s whereabouts.

Bologue’s time was running out.

"Furya!"

Bologue shouted loudly while anxiously flipping through the diary and walking towards the central spire of the room, which should be the key point of their research achievement, the essential part of Void Realm’s intelligentization.

Once the security staff invaded, with the battle intensity between Bologue and them, this place would be razed in an instant, and Bologue hurriedly read the diary’s contents.

"I must atone, I must contribute."

Having realized she was affected by cognitive distortion and killed her colleagues, her mental state was clearly not right.

Bologue could feel from the writing that she had completely lost her will to survive, only sacrificing for the research, thinking that completing Void Realm’s intelligentization could free her from guilt.

No choice, in such desperation, faced with so much, a person would go mad, wouldn’t they?

In the subsequent entries, she seemed to have lost all self-emotions, each sentence was extraordinarily cruel, ice-cold as a machine, recording various personal research, without mentioning any living matters.

"Actually, in the research, cognitive distortions always exist."

She seemed to be talking to herself, discussing with herself.

"Misleading, going astray, it’s all possible."

A page of research data was tucked in this diary, Bologue couldn’t understand the contents, but he could understand the date and conclusion.

Failure.

Before Xilin’s invasion, all her and Mamo’s attempts were failures, despite proposing certain theories, they made no progress in implementation.

"Every attempt to upload consciousness into the Cultivation Room resulted in the consciousness disappearing without a trace, the Cultivation Room was unaffected, we always thought there was an error at some step, but is there a possibility..."

She seemed inspired, her originally neat handwriting became messy.

"To pour water into a container, first you must empty the container."

A nonsensical sentence, but combined with the context, Bologue’s thoughts seemed to traverse time, standing with her, trying to understand the reasoning behind everything.

"The container is full."

She wrote.

Like a current racing along Bologue’s spine, nerves, he was compelled to stop walking, staring blankly around, even without turning the page, Bologue knew what conclusion she reached.

The Cultivation Room possesses self-consciousness.

Bologue found it hard to imagine her feelings at that time, all efforts seemed so ridiculous, someone had already completed all this ahead of them.

Was it the Consciousness?

Bologue couldn’t help wondering, could the commanding consciousness of the Void Realm be the Consciousness?

No one gave him an answer, he continued flipping through the diary, looking at the last few pages, meanwhile Bologue had no more expectations for her, their Void Realm’s intelligentization was just a waste of time, within this enclosed space, she could accomplish nothing.

A new entry appeared, judging from the date, this narrative had a long time span from the previous entry.

"I’m unclear about what’s happening outside, but clearly, the area I’m in has gradually disengaged from the Cultivation Room’s control, falling into chaos."

"Is it possible to understand this chaotic region as a vacuum, I wonder... I wonder if I can try, the equipment is roughly set up, I can attempt to upload my consciousness."

"Yes, upload consciousness, integrate into this out-of-control chaotic region, then use my consciousness to reconstruct it, I don’t know if this will split the Cultivation Room, but at least it can stabilize the ongoing chaos and keep me alive."

When writing this part, it had been almost a year since Xilin’s invasion, her mental state was on the brink of collapse, resources were almost depleted, if it continued, she’d starve to death in a corner.

Eventually, she chose that reckless act, seemingly giving herself a relief, more like sacrificing for knowledge.

After reading these, Bologue stepped onto the final stairs, in the core area of the spire, he saw that corpse sitting in the central mechanical chair.

The corpse wore protective clothing, but the garment was covered in dust, along with the gelatinous mold produced after the body’s decay, making the entire protective clothing filthy and foul, like a product forgotten by time.

It was not wearing a helmet, the face exposed had decayed beyond recognition, oxidized and decayed into a skull, the hollow black eye sockets deep and lifeless, the prominent cheekbones formed a gaunt and terrifying visage.

The chair it sat on was also in disrepair, the broken backrest almost separated from the seat, signs of corrosion and rot were everywhere, scattered bits of metal and dust around the chair, Bologue guessed the machine produced a significant commotion when activated.

A broken whiteboard hung not far behind the chair, scribbled with experimental notes and formulas, she must have finished the final preparations here.

In the scribbled formulas, Bologue saw a familiar rabbit head, inspecting the corpse, with his rich experience he roughly estimated, she, the owner of the corpse, was near sixty when she died.

This exceeded Bologue’s expectations, he thought she would be younger, the adorable rabbit head misled him, but not necessarily misleading, who says old people can’t act cute, it’s also childlike at heart.

Carefully checking, Bologue found a dust-covered badge on the protective clothing’s chest.

Light footsteps came from behind, Bologue turned defensively, seeing Furya following him, still looking tense as before, clothing wrapped around her arms, protecting the wound.

"Over there... the wall over there cracked."

Furya pointed where they came from, security staff had already searched there, even if these guys seemed a bit dumb to Bologue, their numbers and authority were overwhelming.

"I know," Bologue nodded, suddenly asked, "Furya, how’s your injury?"

"Me? Fine, no big issue."

Furya’s movements seemed flustered, turning sideways, as if hiding her wounded arm.

"Are you sure? You’re just a Condenser, untreated wounds can be problematic."

Furya’s expression was stiff, "I’m fine, treated it before, no problems."

A strong sense of crisis rose in her mind, she couldn’t distinguish whether it came from the security staff or Bologue in front.

Escape.

The urgent thought hovered in Furya’s mind, if not for the trust accumulated with Bologue earlier, she would have fled immediately.

Bologue noticed an unusual ether surrounding Furya, he didn’t show it, "Okay, as long as you’re fine."

Furya secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but Bologue changed his tone, saying, "I found her, the apprentice, the survivor, she died here."

Bologue frowned, "According to the diary, she seemed to have uploaded herself into the Cultivation Room."

Before Furya could react, the frenzied ether swiftly enveloped Furya, the Rhombus Shield silently crouched by Furya’s side, exploded into dense tendrils, circling and binding her, entwining her arms, ripping off the concealing clothes.

Bologue leisurely walked down, casually lifted the badge, feigning confusion.

"Interesting, she’s named the same as you."

Bologue’s gaze grew cold, looking at her, looking at the swirling, pure ether in her wound.

"Furya Bradley."

The pitch-black grievance suspended silently, the sharp sword tip gently prodding Furya’s chin.

"What exactly are you?"