Life Game In Other World
Chapter 171: Good Evening (Long - , Please Subscribe, Add to Favorites, Request Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 171: Chapter 171: Good Evening (Long Chapter, Please Subscribe, Add to Favorites, Request Monthly Tickets)

Ten minutes later, He Ao looked at the old iron gate not far away.

Next to the gate was a white card-swiping device, which had accumulated a layer of dust, evidence that it hadn’t been used for a while.

Factories in Dawn City had long since achieved intelligence and automation; the vast majority of documents were transmitted over the network, and most workers had grown up in a paperless environment, not accustomed to reading paper materials, and possibly not even inclined to read tangible books.

After all, reading on an electronic screen and reading on paper did have certain disparities.

The existence of the archive was really just to store some unavoidable bulky materials or certain critical documents.

He Ao glanced at the camera in front of the archive room, circled around its blind spot, then took out the blank card Jack had given him and pressed it against the card reader.

With a light beep, the old iron door swung open in response.

This blank card from Jack did save him some effort.

He Ao crossed through the iron gate into the archive room where dim space was illuminated by a dull yellow light.

The archive room was rather large, with rows of neatly arranged metal bookshelves.

At the end of these shelves, there was a spiral staircase, but it was locked behind an iron gate and wasn’t opened.

"Hello, partner, your reading privileges are basic; you have access to the first-level general archives. You may query the archive books you wish to read at the front desk."

A gentle voice came from behind He Ao.

He turned around and saw a brown reception desk standing behind the door, on which sat a slightly large tablet computer, the source of the gentle voice.

The screen of the tablet computer lit up, displaying a search page.

He Ao stepped forward and entered the keyword "TB-167A" into the search box.

That was the suspected model number of the mechanical arm he had seen at the control station.

The content on the tablet’s screen loaded briefly, revealing the information of a book.

[Abert Intelligent Machinery TB-167A Mechanical Arm Manual][1376 pages]

Beneath the title was the location of the book.

This manual, not being a classified document, was placed on the first level.

He Ao found this manual in a corner of the first level.

The manual was a full-color hardcover with a well-designed cover and was made of specially processed high-quality paper, about a dozen centimeters thick.

The book looked a bit old, and although it was of good quality, the edges were still somewhat yellowed.

Clearly, this wasn’t the manual for the newly purchased machine but for an older one.

The one that was involved in an explosion accident.

He Ao opened the book and first found the information about the machine’s life expectancy in the contents, then flipped to the corresponding page.

"Design service life of fifteen years..."

The mechanical arm involved in the accident had been in use for about fourteen years; it had not exceeded its service life, which is what Avis Group’s lawyers had told Joey in court.

They presented comprehensive maintenance reports and selective inspection documents of the machine’s operation, using the data to prove that the mechanical arm had no issues,

then they produced the manufacturer’s inspection report, indicating that improper operation led to excessive wear on the arm, causing the emergency system to fail and ultimately resulting in a motor lockup and explosion.

Thus, they asserted, it was Joey’s parents’ improper operation that led to the explosion accident.

Joey had no evidence, could not find witnesses, and his personal understanding of his parents could not persuade the court.

He also could not outtalk these eloquent lawyers and ultimately lost the case.

But now, He Ao had learned through Jack that there were indeed issues with the machine, and the data was not so ’real’.

He Ao had initially thought the machine was being forced into usage beyond its service life, but now, according to the manual, the machine hadn’t exceeded its life expectancy.

So where was the problem?

He Ao pondered for a moment, activated Super Memory, and then started rapidly flipping through the manual from the first page.

A detailed manual of 1376 pages usually marks the detailed attributes and structure of every part of the mechanical arm, even including most of the possible fault repair methods.

There had to be something amiss.

While He Ao was rapidly browsing through the manual, a soft sound came from outside the archive room.

——

Beneath the city’s neon lights, the surging wind dispersed the dust on the rooftop.

On the huge circular helipad, a colossal object gradually descended.

The oppressive black helicopter touched down little by little.

The wind stirred by the propellers blew the clothes of the person standing not far from the helipad.

A lean man with curly hair wearing a grey suit jumped down from the helicopter, followed by a group of well-equipped mercenaries.

The towering burly man who had been waiting by the helicopter promptly went up to greet him, "Boss."

"Any anomalies?"

The man in the grey suit took the earpiece out of his ear.

"None, no alarms so far," the burly man hurriedly shook his head.

"Interesting little guy," the man in the grey suit let out a somewhat neurotic laugh, then donned a silver-grey pair of smart glasses,

"He must have already infiltrated. Connect all the factory’s surveillance to my device. After all, this is our intelligence department’s branch in Dawn City. If we let a little brat come and go as he pleases, we’ll be the laughing stock."

"Yes!"

The burly man nodded with trepidation.

Soon, images began to appear on the glasses of the man in the grey suit,

"Rewind to half an hour ago, focus on the vicinity of control room I-27, display all the nearby surveillance simultaneously."

The man in the grey suit spoke softly.

Before long, a gentle smile appeared on his face as his gaze locked onto the blurry figure passing through the edge of the surveillance. "See, there he is coming in."

He lightly raised his hand; the mercenaries who descended from the helicopter quickly formed a line behind him, including the very first burly man who greeted him, now part of the queue,

"Let’s go to the archive room and see. I’m quite curious to see if this little friend will have the same expression as his parents at the time of death."

With a slight wave of his hand, the mercenaries lined up behind him started jogging in unison, neatly and orderly.

······

Soon, they arrived at the entrance to the archives room.

The building to which the archives room belonged was a small structure leaning against the main B Factory building; although this area was at the core of the factory, it was rarely visited, and not cleaned often, with a thin layer of dust on the ground.

The man in the gray suit lowered his head and glanced at the footprints on the ground.

These footprints, although sidestepping the surveillance camera in front of the archives room, clearly left a trail of movement.

A slight smile curved his lips as he quickly walked up to the door of the archives room.

The burly man behind him was about to swipe a card to open the automatic door, but the man in the gray suit stopped him.

He reached out and grabbed the locked iron door, pulling it slowly.

With a creaking tear, the entire locking mechanism of the automatic door was forcefully yanked out by him.

Then he waved his hand, and the person behind him immediately understood, handing him a submachine gun.

He raised the gun, pulled the bolt, and aimed inside the archives room.

Next, he pulled the trigger.

The fierce sound of gunfire burst in the silent archives room instantaneously.

Then, gun in hand, he stepped into the archives room, replacing the magazine after it was emptied, one after another.

Until the entire archives room was filled with fluttering paper scraps and scattered shell casings.

Only then did the thunderous gunfire slowly cease.

The man in the gray suit stood at the very end of the corridor, staring at the heavily dust-covered, tightly locked door leading to the second floor, his expression grim.

The archives room was devoid of anyone; the scene he had hoped to see of a young man riddled with bullets did not occur.

He turned around, took a walkie-talkie from the pocket of the burly man’s jacket, and pressed the broadcast button,

"Tighten security, everyone be responsible for each spot inside and outside the factory, shoot on sight of the target, regardless of life or death."

Paper scraps from the sky slowly floated down, scattering like snowflakes upon the ground.

The entire archives room was eerily silent.

——

At the factory entrance, He Ao, dressed in a work outfit, glanced back at the direction of the archives room, clutching the thick manual as he walked out of the factory with the off-duty crowd.

The work outfit he wore belonged to the skinny man who operated the mechanical arm; that man was taller and thinner than He Ao, but their overall build was similar.

He Ao had asked him to change clothes with him, and then to throw a stone at the archives room door at the slightest sound.

As for the one-way footprints to the archives room, simply walking backward would suffice.

After leaving the factory, the crowd started to disperse in all directions.

Some men in security uniforms, but with fierce eyes, were already standing around the gate, watching each passerby vigilantly.

He Ao skirted their blind spot in their gaze, blending into the crowd and quickly leaving the factory gate.

Not far away, he sidestepped into an alley between the buildings across from the factory.

Just a few steps into the alley, he heard a pained scream ahead,

"I really don’t know, I swear these clothes were bought by me, please, I beg you to let me go,"

He Ao, with his body against the wall, merged into the shadows of the silent night, inching closer to the source of the sound.

Not far ahead of He Ao, the skinny man wearing his jacket was being held up by the collar by a security guard who looked like a burly man.

The man’s face had traces of swelling, a clear sign he’d been struck recently.

The security guard, seeing the man vehemently deny any wrongdoing, picked up the walkie-talkie on his chest, pressed the talk button,

"Boss, caught someone wearing the same clothes as the target, but it’s not him, what should we do?"

"Kill him."

The response from the walkie-talkie was calm and concise.

"I... please don’t kill me..."

The skinny man heard the words coming from the walkie-talkie and screamed hoarsely.

But by then it was too late.

The security guard tossed him on the ground, drew a handgun from his waist, and with a cross of his arms, cocked the weapon.

He then pointed the gun at the man’s forehead.

"I..."

The man started to speak, trembling, but suddenly noticed something behind the guard and froze.

In that moment, the security guard also realized something was amiss, he forcefully swung his elbow, circled his arm through the air and pointed the gun behind him, then his index finger pulled the trigger.

Bang—

As the gunshot sounded, bright red blood burst forth like a rose blooming in the silent night, splattering onto the skinny man’s face.

He Ao slowly pulled the short sword out of the security guard’s neck, the silver blade reflecting the chilling moonlight, casting its light upon the blood-spattered cheeks of the skinny man.

Thud—

The security guard with bulging eyes fell forward, his lifeless body hitting the ground with a dull thud, the walkie-talkie falling out and rolling to the side, landing in a pool of blood.

He Ao pointed the sword tip downward, allowing the fresh blood to flow slowly along the silver blade.

Drip-drop—drip-drop—

The blood dripped on the concrete, and also dripped into the skinny man’s heart.

He raised his head, trembling and terrified, and looked at He Ao.

At this moment, the walkie-talkie on the ground suddenly crackled with static and then a man’s cold voice said,

"Once you’re done, come back."

He Ao bent down slowly, picked up the walkie-talkie from the blood pool, pressed the communication button, and softly said,

"Good evening."

Then he cut off the connection on the walkie-talkie.