Pei Du's consciousness was annihilated in the sea of entropy, but it accidentally tore open a crack.
A ray of pure starry sky origin fell like a meteor and smashed into the garbage dump of the edge star field.
The dying boy Lin Mo was filled with light, and his mechanical prosthetic eye exploded with mythical energy readings.
"Warning! Undefined mythical energy reaction detected!"
The fate of the dying boy and the cosmic spark collided violently at this moment—
Absolutely cold, absolutely sticky, absolutely "nothing".
Pei Du—the fragmented information stream that carried the final imprint of his existence, the fragment that activated the core of the galaxy—was long gone. Like a firefly cast into a cosmic inkwell, it completely dissolved and dissipated within the all-consuming black tide of entropy. The imprints of the laws, the energy signatures, the information structures that comprised it, not even a speck of gray dust remained in this ultimate darkness of pure disorder. Completely annihilated, stripped of even the right to trace its source, it became nothing more than the insignificant nourishment of entropy itself.
Only the aftermath of its last struggle before its demise still resonates, creating an imperceptible ripple on the edge of the sea of entropy.
Beyond the vast cosmic rift, forged by the eternal conflict between order and chaos, at the edge of a cold, silent, and sparsely populated universe, in a desolate corner far from the glittering stars and bustle of life, lies the graveyard of civilization, a material garbage dump. Countless abandoned starship wrecks, depleted colony modules, twisted alloy skeletons, and even the fragments of shattered planets, slowly and silently drifting, colliding, and piling up under the pull of weak gravity, form a vast and despairing space graveyard. Dust clouds condense into a gray veil, and the occasional light from distant star regions seems cold and faint, bringing no warmth.
Deep in this dead and silent cemetery, a faint dark golden light was floating silently.
It was tiny, as insignificant as a speck of dust amidst the cosmic background radiation. Yet, it was so pure it was unnerving, as if it embodied the most fundamental laws of order from the very beginning of the galaxy. It no longer bore the imprint of any individual will, lacking Pei Du's resolve or the icy protection of the Frost Mark. It was simply existence itself, a spark left behind by order struggling on the brink of ultimate chaos, a spark that had been forcibly torn open and channeled from the depths of a vast crack in the crystal wall of the universe by Pei Du's final, burning will.
It quietly floats in the cold void of the garbage dump, emitting a faint but firm dark golden glow, like an eternal candle in front of a silent tombstone, silently declaring: annihilation is not the end.
"Fuck! There's not even a piece of iron sheet in this damn place to hide a person!"
A hoarse curse exploded through the twisted metal tunnel, carrying the raspy, adolescent voice and the despair of despair. The sound struck the rusted, mottled bulkhead, covered in suspicious oil stains and dried blood, stirring up a hollow echo.
Like a skinny wolf cornered, Lin Mo fled for his life through the maze-like, rotting interior of the abandoned mining ship, Digger No. 7. His tattered, tattered protective suit, its original color unrecognizable, clung like a second skin to his thin body, covered in scars both new and old. Every sharp gasp burned in his chest, and his throat was filled with the rusty, bloody taste of iron. Where his left eye should be, a crude prosthetic eye, constructed of exposed wiring and a cheap photosensitive element, flickered an unsteady red light, and yellow warning boxes, indicating critical vital signs, kept popping up at the edge of his vision.
[Warning: Vital signs continue to deteriorate. Adrenaline reserve: 17%. Multiple skeletal muscle lacerations. Suspected perforation of the left lung. Blood loss rate: moderate. Recommendation: Seek immediate medical intervention.]
"You're interfering!" Lin Mo cursed inwardly, ducking suddenly and slipping through a maintenance tunnel that was almost completely blocked by a broken pipe. The sharp edge of the metal scraped across his back, causing a sting, but he didn't even frown. Behind him, the sound of heavy footsteps, the scraping of metal, and the savage curses of the pursuers approached like maggots on his tarsal bones.
"Kid! Don't waste your fucking energy! Hand over your stuff obediently, and Scar Brother will give you a quick death! Otherwise..." A hoarse voice like sandpaper rubbed against a gong roared from the back of the passage, accompanied by the loud noise of several metal rods hitting the bulkhead, "I will tear you into pieces and feed you to the furnace at the recycling station!"
Scarface Johnny, one of the leaders of the "Junkyard Vultures." A few days ago, Lin Mo found a perfectly preserved "neural interface core" in a forgotten, old-fashioned supply crate deep within the garbage dump. This was something only advanced mechas or neural implants could use in the old days. It could fetch a staggering amount of credits on the black market in this fringe star region, enough for him to escape this hellhole and even find a third-rate medical school to heal his rotten wounds. Unfortunately, the news leaked.
Greed attracts vultures.
Lin Mo clenched his teeth, sweat mixing with the blood running down his forehead and sliding into the corners of his mouth, a salty, bitter taste. Drawing on his familiarity with the interior of the dilapidated ship, the "Digger 7," where he'd briefly served as a "scavenger" for a few months, he desperately navigated the pipes and compartments that resembled a vast steel intestine. He rushed into a relatively spacious cargo hold, filled with long-dead, rusted-together heaps of ore-processing machinery. He dove behind a pile of twisted scrap metal, huddled up to minimize his presence, his chest heaving violently as his prosthetic eye frantically scanned the single entrance.
"There! The cargo hold!" The pursuer's voice was filled with the excitement of finding prey.
Heavy footsteps rushed into the cargo hold, the flashlight's dazzling beam randomly sweeping through the dusty and oily space, like a searchlight catching any corner where Lin Mo might be hiding. The footsteps echoed in the empty cabin like the drumbeat of death.
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