Chapter Fifty-Five: How Truly Despicable I Am

After hanging up the phone, Ji Cheng felt a wave of fatigue wash over him and slumped in the car for a brief nap. He only awoke when they entered the main city district, roused by a call from Hu Xian.

Over the phone, Hu Xian informed him that the mysterious surprise he’d mentioned earlier had arrived, and that Ji Cheng should reach out to a certain individual. Once Ji Cheng made the call and inquired, he learned that the mechanical spine he had designed had been shown to Councilman Huang by Hu Xian’s father, and as a result, Councilman Huang had offered him an additional slot.

“Doesn’t this mean I can get two Data Ether Entities?!” Ji Cheng was in excellent spirits, finally feeling the privileges of being a true boss. It was a delightful turn of events—he would never curse Baishan Star for being impoverished again. This place was a veritable treasure trove.

The convoy sped toward the parliamentary building, and upon arrival, Ji Cheng and his companion temporarily parted ways. Chen Qian went to report to the City Defense Command, while Ji Cheng followed the directions through the twisting corridors of the grand building, eventually arriving at a secluded spot, where he boarded a lift down to the underground levels.

“Lord Ji, you may go right in,” said the guard at the entrance, clearly recognizing him. The guard saluted with his weapon in hand, offering no impediment.

The automatic doors slid open with a hiss. A chill swept over him, accompanied by the constant beeping of machinery. The space revealed itself as a vast biological laboratory: workbenches, test tubes, microscopes, and dozens of researchers hurried about. Five or six elderly figures, backs to the door, hunched over their desks, engrossed in calculations.

Through the gaps between people, Ji Cheng caught sight of a massive spherical glass vessel on a central platform, filled with a deep blue liquid that boiled ceaselessly, stirred by whirling fan blades.

To the right, against the wall, stood a number of familiar faces—most of them individuals who had dined with him the day he became an Ability User. They chatted in small groups, but when Ji Cheng entered, their attention turned to him.

“Hello, Sister Bai.”

“Brother Gang.”

“Brother Xu, you’re here too.”

...

Ji Cheng smiled warmly, greeting his fellow Ability Users as he made his way across the room. Eventually, he stopped at a small round wooden table tucked into a corner.

“Brother Zhou, Brother Huang.”

Huang Long’s hair, tied back, fell over his broad shoulders. His large frame filled the chair completely. He closed his laptop with a smile.

“Everyone else calls me ‘Councilman,’ but you call me ‘Brother.’ By age, I could be your grandfather.”

“I just like to keep things friendly.”

Zhou Ze, cradling a thermos emitting the fragrance of tea, interjected, “You did well this time. Now Southport’s database has another set of mining records.”

“It’s all thanks to your guidance, Brother Zhou.”

As the three conversed, footsteps approached from behind.

“Hey, Ji, my man.”

Ji Cheng turned. “Hey, what’s up, Brother Gang?”

The newcomer wore a dark-grey jacket and sported a military-style crew cut; he was burly, known as Wei Lin, nicknamed “Steel Mane.”

“I heard you and five gene original injectees took down a ‘Cripple’ on your own?”

The half-bodied salamander had only one forelimb and one hindlimb, so Ability Users commonly called it “The Cripple.”

“That’s right. Why?”

Wei Lin’s expression was unchanged, but he lowered his voice dramatically.

“I hear its tongue is a rare delicacy. Did you bring it back? I’ll pay handsomely—name your price.”

“No, but don’t worry. Next time, drop by my place. My sister makes her signature oozing Knight’s Stir-Fry—works wonders. I’ll give you a deal: fifty thousand a plate.”

“Ji Cheng.”

At that moment, Zhou Ze interjected, “Come here, I have something to ask you.”

“You too, Boss?” Wei Lin’s eyes widened.

Ji Cheng immediately left Wei Lin’s side and followed Zhou Ze.

“What’s up, Brother Zhou?” he asked.

Zhou Ze hesitated, patted Ji Cheng’s shoulder, and then shook his head with a smile. “Never mind. Go ahead and order your Advanced Intelligent Lifeforms. We’ll talk business after.”

He turned to call a few people over. His tone grew markedly more authoritative, that of a superior.

His manner with Ability Users was one thing; with those below, it was quite another. That was simply the way of things on Baishan Star.

Several elderly researchers hurried over, one of whom was Associate Director Liu, who had previously administered tests to Ji Cheng.

“Hello, Director Liu.” Ji Cheng nodded politely.

“Oh, no need for that,” Director Liu replied with a genial smile. “You’re an Ability User now—this old man should be the one greeting you.”

With that, he bowed to Ji Cheng.

“Director Liu, please, you’re tempting fate,” Ji Cheng said, rushing to steady him lest he fall.

“I’m just an ordinary man; you’re an Ability User. This is as it should be,” Director Liu said, his eyes twinkling.

“Greetings, Lord Ji,” the other elderly gentlemen beside Director Liu echoed, bowing shakily in turn.

Ji Cheng’s face froze. Good grief, was this some sort of ritual to shorten his lifespan?

Oblivious, Director Liu continued, “Lord Ji, your two Advanced Intelligent Lifeforms are ready. Let me explain a few precautions.”

Ji Cheng nodded. “Go ahead.”

All I can say is, you people don’t even recognize a Data Ether Entity.

Director Liu began, “First, you should know that once you select their gender, Advanced Intelligent Lifeforms will develop personalities of their own, entirely beyond human control.”

Ji Cheng: “Understood.”

Director Liu continued, “If you’re unlucky, you might encounter some difficult cases. They may not be very obedient—this is completely different from ordinary Intelligent Lifeforms.”

Ji Cheng: “I see.”

Director Liu paused. “Lord Ji, are you listening?”

Ji Cheng: “Yes.”

In truth, Ji Cheng was intimately familiar with all this. These Intelligent Lifeforms, though called “lifeforms” and granted partial citizenship on Baishan Star, in reality lacked “Ether”—their consciousness and thoughts were entirely the product of programmed logic, more akin to a “piece of code.”

Especially after the infamous Machine Intelligence Crisis in Galactic Year 833, the Galactic Empire had issued a decree: all intelligent lifeforms within its borders must have logic encapsulation. Ever since, they lost the ability to learn; what they were at production, they would remain forever—reduced to mere tools.

Data Ether Entities, in contrast, were like humans—their consciousness and thought came from “Ether.” According to most ancient civilizations, this made them closer to the concept of a true person. The only difference was that this “Ether” was artificial, digitized, and visible to the naked eye.

Director Liu continued, “Another point, Lord Ji: to avoid forming excessive emotional attachments with your Advanced Intelligent Lifeforms—which could affect your composure in battle—it is recommended you choose the male option when you customize them.”

Ji Cheng wouldn’t have it. “Director Liu, there’s no need to worry. I think I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I seem otherwise?”

Director Liu scrutinized him for a few moments, his gaze finally resting on Ji Cheng’s neck, silent.

Huh?

Noticing the look, Ji Cheng brushed his hand against his neck. When he looked at his palm—

“What the hell, where did this lipstick mark come from?”

Muted rose, matte finish... Ji Cheng searched his memory. So, it was Chen Qian—sneaking an attack while he slept. All right, boss, you’re on my list now. Just wait till I get my revenge.

Director Liu said with a sigh, “Lord Ji, based on my observation and experience, perhaps you should pick a male after all?”

Ji Cheng stood firm. “As an Ability User, I’m willing to challenge my own weaknesses.”

Honestly, who could stand living in close quarters with two burly men day in and day out?

Director Liu sighed. “Very well, come along.”

As Ji Cheng stepped onto the platform beneath the spherical vessel, Huang Long reopened his laptop, which was now playing a simulation of Ji Cheng blocking a recurved blade with his bare arm during a four-man fight.

“Old Zhou,” Huang Long asked, puzzled, “why didn’t you question him earlier?”

“I’ll ask him later. I don’t want him overthinking it now,” Zhou Ze replied, sipping his tea with a smile.

“You really do look out for him.”

...

Once inside, Ji Cheng found himself in a boundless expanse of azure blue. A cold electronic voice sounded in his ear:

[Please select gender.]

Seeing the translucent dialogue box pop up before him, Ji Cheng felt a wave of nostalgia.

Just like customizing a character in a game, he thought. With practiced ease, he tapped his selection:

Female.

[Please design appearance.]

A long list of options appeared below.

[Skin tone:]
[Waist-to-hip ratio:]
[Leg length:]
...

Without hesitation, Ji Cheng dragged nearly every slider toward maximum, then typed in the appearance field:

Perfect. Unique.

“To be honest, moments like this make me realize how shallow I really am.”

He glanced at a few particular sliders, then surreptitiously nudged them even higher.

“I’m truly shameless.”

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