Xyrin Empire
Chapter 543: The Unsatisfied Mercury Lamp

Chapter 543: Chapter 543: The Unsatisfied Mercury Lamp

Abyss is an idea, the ultimate Virus, a destructive tendency that can infect everything.

It is not only the mortal enemy of life but also the destroyer of non-life.

Not only can animals and plants mutate and distort under the influence of the Abyss, but even thoughtless mountains, rivers, rocks, and oceans fall into madness when facing Abyss erosion. When a planet is completely eroded by the Abyss, its most significant reaction is self-harm, extreme self-harm that terrifies even the most brazen M. It will dive into storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, orbital changes, and even crazed actions like crashing into the Sun. The idea of destruction will control everything, sparing not even the planet itself.

Like the Earth-kun from the world of "Academy Apocalypse" right now.

This is something I finally realized all at once, but why didn’t I think of it from the start?

The rampant dead bodies, global frequent earthquakes and tsunamis, thunderstorms, typhoons, the desperate masochism of Earth-kun unable to escape M mode, isn’t this the very embodiment of being contaminated with Abyss Energy?

I didn’t think of this at first for many reasons. The first is obviously because I haven’t dealt with the Abyss for a long time, which made me somewhat forget its true nature. The second is that the anomalies currently being experienced by the world of "Academy Apocalypse" aren’t quite the same as the typical Abyss Infection.

According to what Sandora once forcibly taught me, if an entire Celestial Body falls into a state of frequent disasters under the influence of the Abyss, it only means one thing: the level of infection has reached its limit.

The so-called limit infection is an extremely abstract concept, describing it requires more than three hundred scholarly disciplines I’ve never heard of and approximately seven to eight hundred thousand critical values that nearly drove me to schizophrenia. If anyone is bored enough to fancy themselves an expert beast, they can order a thirty-volume set of the "Abyss Encyclopedia" from the Imperial Cultural Department, but for now, my dear viewers in front of the monitor only need to know one thing: in this situation, everything is doomed, especially life—if it ever had life on its surface. In the first twenty-four hours of limit infection, the lives will be completely wiped out, leaving not even a clump of protein behind.

But the situation of this blue planet under our feet is a bit strange: It’s rife with disaster, the Earth is falling apart, it’s caught in inescapable M mode, but life on its surface is still jumping around lively. Of course, this doesn’t include the nearly wiped out Human Race.

And there’s another point, which puzzles me the most, is that even now, the absurdly precise energy detection radar of the Imperial Admiral hasn’t found any Abyss reaction on "Earth." The planet is self-harming to this extent, but there isn’t a trace of Abyss Energy here?

This doesn’t match the usual brazen character of the Abyss! They seem to be the type who fear others won’t know of their arrival, leaving a trail of black smoke wherever they go, as if they wish to carve "The big boss has been here" on every passing llama. But this time, how come we haven’t found a trace of Abyss Energy?

Today is the second day since we arrived in this strange world and also the second day of the Human Civilization rescue mission. How should I put it, the situation is not optimistic.

The Imperial Fleet brought hundreds of New Eden Federation Servant Spaceships including a large number of Human Race battlecruisers, Protos carriers, and Hercules-class transport ships, have now all landed on Earth. Nearly a million search teams and close to a hundred million intelligent probes are conducting a grid search across the entire planet, but after two full days, the number of Human survivors we’ve rescued is less than two hundred seventy thousand.

And they are critically weak, all two hundred seventy thousand of them.

I don’t dare to imagine what a desolate hell we would have faced if we had arrived at this world just two days later.

Is this the luck or the misfortune of humanity? I feel especially confused and conflicted, just like Prince Hamlet, who pondered life and death in the dead of night.

However, there is at least one piece of good news: as long as the seed exists, civilization is not considered extinct, even if it eventually becomes another bizarre version of itself, at least it still stubbornly persists. Perhaps the civilization on Earth is over, but Human Civilization might still be able to stand up again. Right now, the most important thing is figuring out how to instill such a sense of value in those trembling, and mostly mentally deranged, two hundred seventy thousand Human survivors. This is not easy; I believe we need some Military Chaplains.

So now I particularly miss Lilina, who got lost through time and space to some remote corner—of course, I miss not her naturally deep-running ruthless tricks, but that girl’s ability to bluff Tang Seng all the way to the Yihong Brothel.

Speaking of which, I wonder how Elder Tang is adjusting to life in Shadow City. I heard the poor man encountered Lola Stewart selling the Bible door-to-door his very second day. I just hope that their clash of worldviews didn’t lead to a bloodbath, given Lola’s near-fanatical devotion—I’ve had my fair share of that. Huh? Isn’t that eternally seventeen-year-old bishop the perfect military chaplain?

Plus, she absolutely loves the idea of preaching to the 270,000 lamb-like survivors who just went through the annihilation of their race’s civilization and are currently steeped in confusion. The gig has a low risk and high success rate, and nailing it would be a monumental achievement, possibly even setting the Cross Sect as the chosen faith of some nascent civilization. She’d jump at the chance, so she better not start bothering Elder Tang who’s just trying to catch a break from his pilgrimage.

With the thought in mind, I decided to act; I was idle anyway, and Emperor’s personal chamber had all sorts of infuriating features, from a 600-inch holographic Tetris to gym equipment that required a radial force of several tons to use—all assembled by some idle, eccentric shut-in girl. Among these features was one that connected directly to Shadow City’s coordinate-free teleportation system: a device that could instantly pull someone from Shadow City right to my side. I had used it to play with Little Baobao before, but the result was spending two hours comforting a little princess I had inadvertently frightened to tears.

"Lola! Lola Stewart! Your boss needs you!"

"Ah?" The startled voice of a certain "young girl" chimed in hurriedly. I could almost imagine the fox woman looking around in bafflement after the sudden voice echoed in her head, "God? Are you calling me? Didn’t you go to another world?"

"That’s why I’m calling you—are you free right now? There are more than 270,000 lost lambs here that need your salvation. Your job is to persuade them into believing the world is still a wonderful place and that humanity hasn’t gone extinct yet."

Lola’s response was eager: "Of course, Lola will always serve her master..."

"Good, transmission starting!"

"Transmitting? Wait, I’m in the middle..."

A flash of white light.

What are you thinking at this point?

Given the phrases "wait" and "I’m in the middle," along with the inherent, unmentionable genes of the vast populace, I’d bet that plenty are picturing a naked blonde beauty caught in her bathtub, or maybe the archbishop herself surrounded by bubbles, humming tunes?

If that were the case, it would indeed be something to look forward to—but unfortunately, I’m not privy to those clichéd yet lovable "instant death" scenarios...

The thing that appeared in front of me was... a cocoon, a golden cocoon to be exact.

If it weren’t for the girl’s feet sticking out from underneath and the hands clutching a comb above, I’d have thought a row of Hu Luwa was about to emerge from this thing—though Hu Luwas don’t hatch from cocoons, do they?

"What kind of demon is this!"

I hadn’t a clue about the cocoon’s origin at first and even neglected its nearly fully draped bare ankles. My immediate reaction, pointing at the sudden apparition, was: Huh? Time-travelers here too? Is this a pet Little Elf in its larval stage?

"God, instead of mocking your servant, how about you save me..."

The muffled voice of Lola came from the belly of the demon, "I was just brushing my hair..."

Cough cough, anyhow, after dozens of minutes.

"Lola, I’ve got something to tell you." After exhausting the strength of nine oxen, two tigers, and a pair of camels just to smooth out someone’s hair, which was 2.796 Pandora lengths long, I spoke righteously, "Your hair really needs a cut!"

The other party acted as if she hadn’t heard.

Forget it, I no longer have any hope for this archbishop, who severely deviates from the original text and may even have popped out of some fan-made setting.

I simply explained the current situation to Lola. Even though she didn’t quite grasp what a biohazard and an M attribute were, she quickly understood my point.

"That’s the situation. We’ve already found 270,000 survivors, and if nothing goes wrong, this might even be the total population of humanity in this world. Moreover, their condition is very poor; to say that they’re experiencing a collective mental breakdown is not an exaggeration. At least half of the people we have found are mentally unsound, and self-harm and mutual harm caused by various mental disorders can’t be stopped. Many refugees firmly believe that being together with so many people, they will eventually turn into dead bodies, and so they desperately want to kill the ’superfluous’ people around them. They have no trust in our Ghost Energy Protection Field—of course, that’s understandable. What I want now is for you to solve this problem, even if it’s just to calm them down temporarily. I don’t want my spaceship to become the last madhouse on Earth. Honestly, I’m still hoping that these last of humanity can rebuild their civilization by themselves."

"So that’s how it is, I understand." Lola listened quietly until I finished speaking, her face showed a calm I had never seen before. Even the faint smile I labeled the ’Fox Woman’s smile’ that never disappeared was now gone without a trace. After silently looking at me for a few seconds, this archbishop, who was quite shrewd, suddenly bowed her head and clasped her hands in front of her chest.

"Uh??"

"Prayer... that’s all," after a while, Lola raised her head again, "Praying for those who have already died. Perhaps in your eyes, those who are alive are more important than the dead, but for me, I at least have to pray for them. After all, this world probably no longer has a resting place for their souls."

I must admit, it was the first time in my life that I saw sincerity and sorrow in the eyes of this fox-like elder "girl."

"Huff, anyway, thank you for your effort."

Suddenly, I faintly felt that this mission might not be something to celebrate for Lola.

She was a devout believer. No matter how dark she was inside, that one aspect was undeniable. Even if she had many hypocritical sides, at least she consistently followed the doctrines of the Cross Sect.

To think that such a person would be happy about the extinction of humanity and see it as an opportunity for proselytizing was surely an insult.

"This is Your grace," Lola spoke calmly, "Seeing You work so hard for strangers in a distant world, I should by no means stand idly by—So, please take me to see those poor people..."

Taking Lola to the refugee gathering area on the Imperial Admiral—nearly half of the refugees had already assembled here, including a troublesome group that posed the biggest headache. They were separated by isolation grids into individual small zones, which provided some relief to these people suffering from severe agoraphobia, but their aggressiveness towards outsiders remained.

"I’d like to walk around here first, take a look at their condition," Lola spoke softly, "Don’t worry about my safety. Here, even the strongest human can’t harm the greatest archbishop of the British Puritan. You just need to provide me with some assistants, like those servants I left in Shadow City."

I scratched my head: "Thought you could handle it on your own."

Lola: "Jesus had twelve back in the day!"

As a Christian, Aunt Lola, you’re just too fierce.

Following Lola’s request, I arranged for some Cross Sect believers to come help out, and then I left the refugee area, took a cab back to the command hall—eh? Wait, why on earth is there a taxi in my flagship? That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it?

Considering that a single long-axis of the ship is several hundred kilometers, where most internal movement requires Space Transmission and sometimes even necessitates taking a Single Soldier Fighter Jet to the neighboring command center for meetings—and even a "Space Battleship Logistics Department" includes a "City Planning and Construction Department" within a gigantic Space Fortress full of topics for ridicule—taxis, of all things, theoretically shouldn’t appear on a military vessel, right?!

Who exactly is that Soldier who just took a fare for a taxi ride inside the Interstellar Coalition Flagship... Ah, well, I guess no one other than Sicaro’s Heavy Defense Corps.

"Looks like you’re a bit annoyed, you dumb Human," just after I’d seriously mocked the unscrupulous Soldier taking taxi fares on the spaceship, a somewhat cold and distant voice suddenly rang out over my head. As I looked up, Mercury Lamp descended from above and perched precisely on my shoulder, "I don’t like that woman named Lola."

Sigh, just a moment ago I was hoping to catch some enchanting view but then I remembered, what am I expecting from a doll... Luo Zhen’s figures are lifelike but I reckon they’re not as skeevy as those creepy otakus, so when I saw a pair of smaller safety shorts for a brief moment, I remained completely calm.

Also, has Mercury Lamp now gotten used to sitting on my shoulder? At first, I had to press her down forcibly.

"Lola, indeed, is a very inscrutable woman, it’s normal for you not to like her," I helped smooth out Mercury Lamp’s slightly crumpled doll dress, "But most of the time she completes her missions quite well—Yet, it’s the first time I’ve seen you come to me on your own initiative, should I feel honored?"

"Don’t flatter yourself, dummy," the doll girl arrogantly tilted her head up, unaware that she had subconsciously positioned herself in the role of a doll, "I’m just here to inform you of something that’s very annoying."

Something that annoys Mercury Lamp?

Sorry, there are just too many, because a certain temperamental doll usually sports an irritated expression most of the time.

"Hey! What’s with that disrespectful look?" "Pang pang pah pah!"

This creature is truly alarmingly perceptive and those little paws have become increasingly adept at smacking my head. Is it just me, or has there been a significant change in Mercury Lamp recently? Though she still habitually has a grimace on her face, especially when she looks at me with that distant and snarky attitude, but it seemed like just now she was... coquettishly expressing dissatisfaction?

What an unusual way of doing it, and she probably isn’t even aware of that herself. Hmm, maybe I’m just overthinking it. After all, she’s the first person I’ve seen who’s impervious even under a doting dad’s influence.

Under the doll’s "I’m very angry" expression, I pretty much figured out what was making Mercury Lamp so annoyed.

Simply put, it’s about the Human survivors, a group that suddenly emerged from underground.

After the disaster, 99% of ordinary people on Earth had no choice but to wait helplessly for death, but Humans always have that 1% of "elitists." Without the common people’s knowledge, some pre-existing super shelters and hastily assembled special bunkers had been activated to preserve those at the apex of Human society, the so-called "key figures."

This was a justifiable act. When a Race faces the crisis of civilizational extinction, preserving the last hope in this way could even be considered strategic foresight. Even Sandora would praise these usually "ineffective" Humans for making a commendable choice this time. In fact, when the landing troops discovered such ultimate bunkers, many survivors (most bunkers were densely packed with Dead Bodies or became organic fertilizer in earthquakes and Magma, but a few small shelters with as few as dozens of people in geographically advantageous locations allowed their inhabitants to avoid "remote infection" by Dead Bodies and geological disasters) were pleasantly rescued by overjoyed Marine Corps Soldiers and brought back to the Spaceships. These included many Scientists and scholars from various industries, which are fundamental to the existence of a civilization. Especially since most of the survivors we found had mental issues, these physically and mentally healthy individuals were especially valuable.

The thing that upset Mercury Lamp was the mixture of another kind of people among these survivors...

Elites naturally include many, uh... so-called upper-class people, such as Politicians, tycoons, successful people, leaders... Even though politics and money had become worthless with the arrival of Doomsday, these people still had the opportunity to secure a lifeline for themselves at the initial outbreak of the disaster. So now, they have been unearthed, and that’s what disgusted Mercury Lamp. (To be continued. If you want to know what happens next, please visit www.qidian.com. For more Chapters, support the author, and read legally!)