Chapter Twelve: Planetary LAN Access Pod

Southport New City, Gray Zone Public Hospital.

A female doctor in a white coat removed her stethoscope, a puzzled look on her face. “Mr. Ji, your physical condition is very healthy. There’s no reason you should have suddenly fainted.”

“It’s fine. Can I be discharged now?” Ji Cheng replied with a bright smile, showing no regret whatsoever about the exam.

He was joking, of course. Now he could directly participate in the selection for Ability Users and become one of the privileged elite. Who would still care about a formal-grade mining license?

After becoming an Ability User, you were automatically granted a special-grade mining license.

“It’s just a pity I didn’t get my hands on that single-person spaceship.” Ji Cheng thought wistfully of the ship, but he didn’t regret his decision at all.

Selling the entire Baishan Star wouldn’t even amount to a fraction of what you could earn from the Deep Space Black Spot.

“Well, since you’ve regained consciousness, you just need to be observed for another hour and you can go home,” the young female doctor said, unable to resist stealing another glance at Ji Cheng, her ears tinged red as she stood up and left.

“That doctor seemed kind of pretty. She looks interested in you. Cheng, don’t you want to bestow your beauty upon her?” Luo Rao crawled out from beneath Ji Cheng’s bed.

Ji Cheng jolted. “When did you get here? Were you hiding under the bed to scare me to death?”

Luo Rao handed him a bottle of water. “I’m a little afraid of hospitals. Under the bed feels safer.”

“You’re almost twenty and still afraid of hospitals.” Ji Cheng took the water, drank a little, and sat up on the bed, his spirits high. “Come on, let’s go home.”

August 14th. The phone rang early in the morning.

“Beep—beep—” Ji Cheng answered.

“Boss!” came a familiar voice on the other end.

“Fox Spirit, what’s up?” Ji Cheng chuckled.

“I got the standard tool module you wanted! It took me quite some effort, I even went with my dad to a supply point outside the city the past couple of days to gather some materials. Oh, by the way, how did you do on your mining exam? I remember grades come out the morning after, so they should be available now.”

“Not bad, at least I’ll get the license. Should be issued in a few days.” Ji Cheng replied offhandedly; he wasn’t concerned about the license anymore.

“Congratulations.” Hu Xian said, then asked, “Where are you living now? I’ll bring the stuff over right away.”

“Zone Four, Number 151.”

“I’ll be there in an hour!” Hu Xian hung up, full of excitement.

Ji Cheng set down his phone, feeling a surge of excitement himself.

A standard tool module meant that, given blueprints and materials, most basic equipment and instruments could be manufactured or modified by himself.

More importantly, he could make a planetary LAN access pod with hacking capabilities, enabling him to enter the Gaia Network on his own.

He was wide awake, so he walked to the table, took out pen and paper, and began listing the essentials he needed to make.

“First, I need a wrist computer. Might use its processing power for the Ability User selection, and many weapons require a computer to operate. I’ll go to the scrapyard and find a broken one to fix up.”

“My gene prototype is Lynx, so I can’t neglect my close-combat specialization. A corrosion-resistant alloy wrist blade makes sense.”

“A laser lockdown device is crucial. Though it’s a single-use trap, combined with the wrist computer, it can save your life in an enclosed space.”

“Tactical goggles are necessary. I’ll add an infrared auto-aim module myself. In dim lighting, that’ll be invaluable.”

“Biochemical mask, just in case.”

At the bottom of the page, he wrote “Access Pod” in bold.

The planetary LAN was a star-level network deployed by the Galactic Empire on every colony planet.

Before losing contact with the Empire, all cities on Baishan Star relied on the planetary LAN for management and oversight.

Of course, after losing contact, Baishan Star lost control of its planetary LAN. The city-states formed after the disaster lacked the capacity to deploy new networks, so they reverted to primitive management.

But that didn’t mean the access pod was useless. In fact, it was the most important piece of equipment.

Because the Empire’s leftover defense systems, robots, electronic devices, and laboratories on Baishan Star were still connected to the planetary LAN. They could all be invaded and hacked through the access pod.

That’s why network intrusion skills were often considered by Ability Users to be more important than raw strength.

He circled “Access Pod” several times, put down his pen, and stepped outside.

Even in August, the morning air was refreshingly cool. Ji Cheng paced outside the prefab house, pondering his equipment designs while waiting for Hu Xian.

Beep beep.

A horn sounded nearby. A heavy truck turned off the main road and into the alley of the zone.

“That must be Fox Spirit.” Ji Cheng’s spirits lifted.

Sure enough, the truck stopped right in front of him, and a man with white hair all over his body jumped out of the cab.

“Boss!”

Ji Cheng laughed and punched Hu Xian. “Where’s the stuff?”

Hu Xian pointed to the truck’s cargo bed. “It’s right here in the back.”

The two walked shoulder to shoulder toward the cargo compartment.

“Boss, does your invention—the external mechanical spine—really connect directly to the nervous system?”

“It can, it can. How many times are you going to ask?”

“Hehe, good to hear. And I’ve got some good news. Remember that piece you gave me? My dad took it, and yesterday he said there’s a big surprise for you.”

“Mysterious as ever. What’s the surprise?” Ji Cheng chatted idly with Hu Xian while working. “One, two, three, lift!”

“So heavy.” Hu Xian looked at the huge iron crate on the ground, shaking out his wrist. “He said it’s confidential. Didn’t tell me. But it’s definitely something great.”

“Thank Uncle Hu for me.” Ji Cheng didn’t stand on ceremony. He’d often eaten at Hu Xian’s house during school days and knew his parents well.

Page (1/3)

“All right, I’ll carry this inside myself. There’s barely food left at home, so I won’t keep you for a meal.” Ji Cheng waved him off, ready to shoo him away.

Hu Xian understood Ji Cheng well. Seeing his eager look, he knew Ji Cheng couldn’t wait to start tinkering with the tool module.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to lend you some money?”

“Get lost.”

“Hey, wait.” Ji Cheng suddenly remembered something and called Hu Xian back. “Next time you train, try covering your nose with your hand.”

“Huh? How do you train covering your nose?”

“Figure it out yourself.”

Hu Xian had injected the gene prototype—Snow Bear. These odd bears lived on icy tundras, evolving white fur for camouflage. But their noses remained black. To avoid being spotted by prey, Snow Bears always covered their noses with their paws when hunting.

Hopefully, this mimicry method would work for him, Ji Cheng thought irresponsibly.

He dragged the iron crate into the room with difficulty and quickly shut the door.

Click.

Ji Cheng pulled out the crate’s latch. A metal lock popped open automatically, and the massive crate collapsed before him.

Inside was a machine resembling a small lathe, covered with a dense array of matching parts. Nearby were brand-new electronic components, semiconductors, alloys, and even a small cluster of crystalline material.

“I almost forgot about this.” Ji Cheng slapped his forehead.

This crystal was an energy crystal.

He’d been so focused on the exam that he forgot the standard tool module required an energy crystal as a power source.

Energy crystals were not only expensive, but strategically significant. For ordinary people, they were restricted items; even if you dug one up in the mines, the city-state would forcibly buy it.

Without being an Ability User, acquiring one was extremely difficult. Hu Xian’s trip to the supply point must have been to get this crystal.

“What’s going on?” Luo Rao awoke from the commotion, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

“Fox Spirit just dropped off some things.”

“So this is an energy crystal? It’s so ugly.”

“What’s ugly about it?” Ji Cheng tidied the table. “Sis, keep an eye on the equipment for me. It’s expensive. I need to step out.”

Soon, Ji Cheng had scoured three nearby scrapyards and returned with a large bundle of items, all for just a few dozen credits.

On Baishan Star now, all cities had turned most districts into industrial zones, retaining some advanced manufacturing and metallurgy lines from before the communications cutoff. As a result, scrap machinery and leftover metals were cheap; food was more expensive.

He sorted the materials and began tinkering away.

August 15th.

Luo Rao watched Ji Cheng intently. “What are you working on, Cheng?”

“Making a mechanical spine. You can think of it as an external prosthetic.”

Ji Cheng focused on welding a piece of metal bone—the atlas section of the external mechanical spine.

“It looks pretty cool. How do you use it?” Luo Rao’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Stick the mechanical spine to your back, and these little contacts connect it to your real spine. It greatly boosts core strength.”

He pointed to the protrusions on the metal bone. “But I don’t recommend staring at it. The welding arc is bad for your eyes.”

“That serious?” Luo Rao obediently turned aside, picked up another piece of metal bone, and said, “Cheng, this bone is so beautiful. It looks just like a real one!”

Ji Cheng shrugged. “I modeled it one-to-one after the human body. But why do you think bones are beautiful?”

Luo Rao stroked the surface, her eyes bright. “Exactly the same. Is this craftsmanship?”

“Not really.” Ji Cheng snatched it from her. “It’s just obsessive-compulsive disorder.”

“Pfft.” Luo Rao burst out laughing.

Her stunning smile made everything seem brighter.

Ji Cheng stared, bewitched. “If only you weren’t my sister.”

Luo Rao perked up, twisting her waist, her eyes coy. “We’re not really related, are we?”

“That’s still no.”

“Then let me kiss you, just once.”

“All right.” Ji Cheng finally relented.

“Oh, Cheng, we’re running low on rice,” Luo Rao licked her lips.

“No problem. We’ll have porridge today. I’ll go buy rice tomorrow.”

August 16th.

“Cheng, there’s even less rice left,” Luo Rao said in a soft voice.

“Tomorrow. I swear I’ll buy rice tomorrow. Tonight, add more water and make the porridge thinner.”

Ji Cheng carefully engraved light-sensitive wiring under the microscope, not lifting his head.

August 17th.

“Cheng, there’s only a handful of rice left in the bag.”

Page (2/3)

“Add more water. Once I finish polishing this alloy blade, I’ll buy rice tomorrow.”

August 18th.

“Cheng, there are only a few grains left.” Luo Rao sounded weak.

“Add more water, make it thinner,” Ji Cheng tapped madly at the virtual keyboard, programming neurotransmitter logic for an artificial nerve. “Almost done.”

...

August 21st.

“Cheng… I feel stuffed, but also hungry,” Luo Rao said weakly, clutching a half bowl of porridge. The porridge was so clear, you couldn’t spot a single grain by eye.

Ji Cheng was absorbed in a block of material the size and shape of an eraser.

“There’s no planetary LAN at home, so I can only test the access pod’s intrusion on a simulated network.”

Beep.

— Connection established. Rapid-crack program loaded. Please select buffer.

“Done!” He slapped his thigh in excitement.

“After a week of hard work, I finally got the basic equipment finished.”

Ji Cheng stood and stretched, feeling refreshed.

“Hm?” He glanced at Luo Rao, who looked much thinner. “Sis, don’t you have a cup? Why are you drinking from a bowl?”

Tears welled in Luo Rao’s eyes. “This is pitiful little Rao’s porridge.”

“Uh…” Ji Cheng realized he’d done something truly heartless. Luo Rao hadn’t injected any gene prototype, so her body was just that of a normal person—she must be starving.

“I’ll buy rice right now!”

Ji Cheng went out and headed straight to the designated grain supermarket.

Recently, too many immigrants had come from the old city, and the Gray Zone was overcrowded. Supplies of essentials were running short, so the authorities limited each household to the registered head, and only at designated supermarkets, to buy grain and meat.

But by five in the afternoon, a long queue had already formed at the supermarket entrance. Under the blazing sun, many had set up umbrellas and chairs, clearly prepared for a siege.

Ji Cheng counted the heads and reluctantly took his place at the end of the line.

“If only I’d gone out later. It’s way too hot now. Good thing I brought this.” Bored, he took out the planetary LAN access pod and fiddled with it.

The access pod fit in his palm. It was originally a sub-module for tactical goggles, but its wide range of uses led to it being separated. It could be used handheld or loaded onto lenses.

“Let’s turn it on and see if there are any networks nearby.”

Ji Cheng pressed the power button. A beam of light shot from the bottom of the pod, outlining a screen in front of him, lines of characters scrolling across it.

The planetary LAN access pod could connect to more than just planetary LANs; any nearby network could be invaded.

“This node is built in the office building next door—looks like a private LAN.”

Ji Cheng eagerly checked out the surrounding network info.

“Oh, the intercepted packet is from that sports car’s navigation system. Hope he doesn’t take a wrong turn.”

“Judging by the protocol address, this network is issued by Southport TV… I’ll try hacking it later.”

“What kind of interface is this? Oh right, it’s the city defense system’s communication net.”

He kept playing as night fell.

“Whoa, it’s so late already. Better hurry home.”

He bounded onto the roof of a nearby shop, used the keen vision from his Lynx gene prototype to get his bearings, and sprinted away.

Southport had no curfew, but no nightlife either. Once darkness fell, the streets emptied. Ji Cheng didn’t worry about hurting anyone, so he picked up speed.

Soon, he was back at Zone Four.

“Cheng, where’s the rice you bought?” Luo Rao slumped weakly in a chair, eyes fixed on his empty hands.

Ji Cheng: “I completely forgot…”

Luo Rao, looking tragically at the rice bag, shook it several times.

At last, a chipped grain of rice fell out.

Tap, tap, tap.

The grain bounced a few times and came to rest in the center of the table.

She swallowed, then tentatively asked, “Add… add more water?”

Ji Cheng: “……”

An hour later.

The siblings walked out of a small restaurant, full and satisfied.

“Cheng, look, our baby’s kicking inside,” Luo Rao said, cradling her belly, radiating maternal glow.

Ji Cheng burped. “Shut up.”

Page (3/3)