Chapter Ten: Gaia Network

“If I hadn’t once been a veteran player of ‘Grand Galaxy’ and had the fortune to witness the Gaia Network, I would never have imagined that this planet actually harbored a deep space black point.”

No one knows the true nature of a “deep space black point”; all that is known is that both these black points and the Gaia Network are artifacts left behind by an ancient cosmic civilization countless years ago.

Even in the final version of ‘Grand Galaxy,’ the Gaia Network remained the only hyper-realistic virtual network capable of spanning the entire universe, with its servers rumored to be hidden beyond the event horizon of a black hole.

Before crossing over, there was a well-known theory among the player community—the Ice Lake Hypothesis. It likened the universe we live in to the water beneath a sheet of ice, with the Gaia Network being the sky above the ice. To enter the Gaia Network from the material universe, one needed to find a breach in the ice.

That breach was the deep space black point.

“But according to the storyline, it wasn’t until the third expansion of ‘Grand Galaxy,’ when the ‘Gaia New World’ was launched, that an archaeologist from a star alliance finally discovered the Gaia Network. By then, the Galactic Empire had already been extinct for centuries.”

Ji Cheng had just snapped out of his thoughts and realized he had fully entered the Gaia Network. When he looked up, an empty, shadowy space unfolded before him.

Three towering spired arches loomed huge and abrupt. Lined across the top were dozens of grotesque, fearsome statues. Metal columns supported the arcades, and above them rose a mysterious emblem of an all-seeing eye. On either side of the gates stood massive, somber towers, black as the void.

The towers were stacked in five majestic tiers, each an integral part of the grand design. To Ji Cheng’s eyes, the whole scene appeared vast and orderly; statues, engravings, tracery, and countless intricate details only amplified the majesty and serenity of the place.

It was not like any human creation, but rather the work of gods.

“Isn’t this the headquarters of the Cult of the Machine God?!” he exclaimed.

Before him was precisely the image he had seen in the game’s trailer—the headquarters of the Cult of the Machine God: three arches, the mechanical eye, five-tiered towers... there could be no mistake.

“Who could have guessed that the infamous villainous faction, the Cult of the Machine God, had its headquarters inside the Gaia Network?” Ji Cheng realized. No wonder, back then, when the Winter Alliance issued the world quest, countless players searched for this place at the cost of their lives yet found nothing.

Without entering through the corresponding deep space black point, unless your technology matched that of the ancient civilization that created the Gaia Network, you would never find this virtual realm.

“It seems this was once a religious site of the ancient civilization, later discovered by the Immortal Machine Kingdom and repurposed as the Machine Church’s headquarters.”

Ji Cheng stroked the archway thoughtfully, making his own deduction. The body he now inhabited was that of the creator and pope of the Cult of the Machine God.

He continued deeper into the hall. After only a few dozen meters, he encountered another metal gate, wide open and at least ten meters tall.

“Heavens,” Ji Cheng murmured, suppressing his amazement as he stepped inside.

It was a grand, ancient, and silent hall, spanning perhaps a thousand square meters—vast and empty, with only a long table at its center, flanked on each side by four chairs.

At each end of the table stood, respectively, a throne of high rank and an enormous mechanical torch.

Yet the torch was unlit, cold and dark.

Ji Cheng walked to the throne, hesitated briefly, then sat down with composure.

—Virtual space permissions written. Council Hall activated.

A voice sounded suddenly. Columns of light illuminated the hall’s perimeter, revealing the entire space to him.

Before he could examine it, a torrent of data surged into Ji Cheng’s mind.

From what the data conveyed, he gleaned several facts:

1. This virtual space was called the Council Hall and now belonged to him.
2. There were nine deep space black points leading to this space. Apart from the one he entered, the remaining eight corresponded exactly to the eight other chairs.
3. Each black point gateway could accommodate only one person.
4. With admin privileges, he could modify or even revoke the keys to these nine gateways.

Ji Cheng mulled over this new knowledge, his heart racing with excitement.

“Nine gateways... this must be the highest level virtual space in the Gaia Network.”

…

Galactic Empire, Weiyang Star Palace.

As the heart of the empire’s vast domains and the ultimate seat of power, trillions of decrees radiated from here, shaping the lives and deaths of innumerable beings.

“Somewhere in the universe, gods must exist.”

Ji Ruyu furrowed her brows, slender jade fingers supporting her sharp, snow-white chin, her expression cold and distant. Despite her regal bearing, there lingered an allure that tempted one to defile her.

“But they all say there are no gods in the universe. Those old men of the Royal Academy of Sciences have written 497 papers to prove it.”

A shadow of disappointment flickered in her eyes, but she still could not bring herself to believe it.

“If there are no gods, then how was the universe born? Where did matter come from?”

Ji Ruyu casually tapped a light screen at her side, preparing to connect to the imperial historical database.

“I refuse to believe there are no clues to be found.”

Just as her fingertip brushed the screen, a network name full of garbled code flashed up. Before Ji Ruyu could react, her finger had already tapped it.

A flash of black light, and her body slumped limply onto the cold chair.

...

“Where... am I?”

Ji Ruyu opened her eyes, breaking free from a daze of lost senses. Her mind was blank, and she felt utterly at a loss for what had just happened.

For a few minutes, she had genuinely thought she was dead.

“Welcome to my hall, madam.”

“Who?” Ji Ruyu turned her head warily.

The first thing she saw was a throne of ancient design, upon which sat a man whose features were indistinct.

Merely from his aura, she instinctively sensed an air of command and an authority impossible to refuse.

“Sit,” the man said calmly, in a tone that permitted no argument.

As if bewitched, Ji Ruyu sat down. Her back pressed against the metal seat, the chill seeping into her bones.

Her heart pounded wildly. This loss of control over her fate both unsettled and strangely fascinated her.

“May I ask... did you bring me here?” Ji Ruyu asked carefully, her rosy lips pressed into a thin line.

She had never experienced such powerlessness, and it both thrilled and unnerved her.

“Yes.”

“Then... where is this place?” she asked, trying to compose her exquisite features.

“Higher-dimensional space,” came the stern, commanding reply in her ear.

Higher-dimensional space?

The composure she had just mustered nearly shattered again.

Although she had rarely left the imperial capital, her status as royalty gave her access to extensive knowledge. This term was almost beyond belief.

Could higher-dimensional space truly exist?

“Are you... a god?”

The word slipped from her throat, trembling.

“Not yet,” the man on the throne replied, shifting his posture to face her fully.

He claimed he was not a god, yet had the power to draw others into higher-dimensional space. Ji Ruyu glanced at her own form—it seemed faintly unreal, her senses heightened, her body lighter and more agile than ever before.

It was all too extraordinary.

Even if this being was not a god yet, he must be close.

“Then... why have you brought me here? What do you want of me?” Ji Ruyu asked expectantly.

“Believe in me.”

The hall fell silent, broken only by Ji Ruyu’s increasingly rapid breaths.

And he claims he’s not a god!

What normal person would demand faith? Her beautiful eyes shone with a strange light.

“Please... let me be your disciple. I’ll do anything you ask,” Ji Ruyu pleaded, all her cold nobility dissolving into supplication and docility.

I must seize this chance! She lowered her head, not daring to meet the throne’s gaze, her mind racing:

This man—he claims not to be a god, but can bring me into higher-dimensional space, and seeks others’ faith... Perhaps, perhaps he is a banished deity, or an ancient god newly awakened from endless slumber.

Only such an explanation could account for all this.

As a fervent believer, a girl given to wild fantasy, the notion pierced straight to her soul, leaving her trembling.

“Complete a task, and you may become my disciple,” the man on the throne said, flipping his hand as if the darkness around them twisted in response. “A fair bargain, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, yes, very fair!” Ji Ruyu nodded vigorously. “Please, give your command.”

The hall fell silent once more, the stillness now almost unsettling.

Nervous and uncertain, Ji Ruyu was suddenly struck by inspiration. She gracefully knelt, her voice ringing out, “Your command, my lord.”