Chapter 49: The Military Advisor Part 1

This time when he returned to the System Space, Wei Tingxia finally did not see that pure white expanse again.

He collapsed onto the bed, closed his eyes to endure the dizziness and nausea, and for a long time, he heard no voice in his mind. After half an hour, when he finally opened his eyes, the first thing Wei Tingxia noticed was that his desk lamp was broken.

The milky white porcelain shards lay scattered on the carpet. Wei Tingxia squatted beside them and poked at the half-smashed bulb.

System 0188 arrived belatedly: [What are you doing?]

“It’s strange,” Wei Tingxia said. “My desk lamp is broken.”

[Did you break it?]

“That obviously wasn’t me,” Wei Tingxia found it even stranger. “It was already broken when I got back. Didn’t you see?”

[…]

System 0188 fell silent for a while, then it said: [The first scene I saw after loading successfully was you squatting on the ground.]

Upon hearing this, Wei Tingxia also fell silent.

He was the host of System 0188, so it should have loaded into the System Space with him. Why had there been a sudden blank period between them?

Very strange.

Wei Tingxia confirmed again: “You really saw me squatting on the ground the moment you loaded in?”

[Yes.]

“Then we were disconnected for at least half an hour. Does that fit normal buffering logic?”

System 0188 said: [Not at all. I’ll report it. You rest well.]

With that, it left. Wei Tingxia fetched a broom from the next room, personally cleaned the carpet, then returned to the living room on the first floor and curled up on the sofa to watch TV.

When System 0188 returned, Wei Tingxia had already slept once and was now boiling noodles in the kitchen.

He blanched the vibrant vegetables, arranged them in a bowl, prepared the sauce, and poured it over the noodles. He asked System 0188: “Want some?”

[I don’t eat.]

“I know you don’t. Just teasing.”

Wei Tingxia sat down with his noodles. System 0188 observed his movements and demeanor, then said after a moment: [You seem very calm.]

“If I were a veteran employee with over a hundred years on the job, then yes, I should stay calm while completing the next task.”

System 0188: [That’s not what I meant.]

If Wei Tingxia truly loved the protagonist, there should have been some sorrow or reluctance at parting, no matter what. System 0188’s core logic struggled to parse the complex spectrum of human emotions, but its conclusions were never thorough enough.

“Then what do you mean?”

Wei Tingxia set down his chopsticks. “Don’t use that stupid machine brain of yours to guess at me.”

System 0188: […My brain isn’t stupid.]

“That remains to be seen.”

After Wei Tingxia inexplicably lashed out coldly, System 0188 sensed the issue and wisely avoided steering the topic back to Yan Xinfeng. Instead, it said: [The Main System says this is normal.]

“How so?”

[Space folding and distortion caused by data crashes and escapes—a bug that’s been accumulating for years. Apparently, it’s existed since the System Space was established, but it’s rarely triggered.]

“What’s the trigger?”

[Returning to the original world for repair work,] System 0188 explained without reservation. [Like you did.]

So it would happen again. This time it was the desk lamp; next time, who knew what.

Wei Tingxia said nothing more. He lowered his head, picked up his chopsticks again, and stirred the noodles in his bowl with deliberate impatience.

The steam blurred his brows and eyes, concealing the sharp emotion that had flashed across them moments before.

After eating, Wei Tingxia left the dishes for the Smart Butler to clean. He returned to bed, pulled up the covers, and closed his eyes.

[There’s a reply message,] System 0188 reminded him. [From the first host to carry out a repair mission.]

Right, that other unlucky guy who’d gone through the same thing.

Wei Tingxia opened his eyes. “What did it say?”

[A question mark.]

“Ignore it.”

Wei Tingxia closed his eyes again. The mental fatigue after the mission completion washed over him like a tide, leaving him with almost no capacity for conversation.

“Wake me at seven tomorrow.”

After giving that instruction, he rolled over, and his consciousness sank into oblivion.

…

The darkness was thick and viscous.

He walked.

Beneath his feet lay a soft, damp layer of humus; each step produced a muffled sucking sound. Towering trees blotted out the sky, their bark mottled like scales, twisted branches entwining high above.

The air reeked of heavy earthy stench, rotting wood, and a chilling dampness that made his chest tighten involuntarily.

Wherever he looked, his vision compressed to its limits—only the distorted outlines of nearby tree trunks faintly emerged in the absolute gloom.

No wind, no insect chirps, no sign of life. Only Wei Tingxia’s own breathing and his footsteps, infinitely amplified in the dead silence.

Tap…

Tap…

Tap…

This should have been the perfect scene to provoke panic and despair, yet strangely, Wei Tingxia felt no trace of fear amid it.

On the contrary, he felt calm—an odd, almost absurd sense of peace enveloped him.

Because he knew.

He knew it with crystal clarity.

Not far behind him, neither too close nor too distant, there was a person.

A silent shadow.

He didn’t need to turn to confirm, didn’t need to call a name. That presence felt as natural as breathing, as steady as a heartbeat.

Wei Tingxia knew that person would protect him with their life. If a hidden arrow aimed for Wei Tingxia’s heart, it would have to pierce through that body first.

This certainty was like a warm spring, silently melting away all the forest’s chill and deathly stillness. His heavy steps lightened; the deep path lost its terror. He even felt a hint of indescribable ease.

The path ahead wound sinuously into the endless darkness, seemingly without end.

But Wei Tingxia didn’t care.

Just keep walking.

Forever.

To the end of this gloomy, damp, lightless little road.

As if that was his only way home.

…

A noisy alarm shattered the dream. When Wei Tingxia opened his eyes, his head felt like it was about to explode.

[It’s exactly 7 now,] System 0188 said in his ear. [By the way, a cup and a bowl broke downstairs.]

The drinking cup and fruit bowl, which had been neatly placed on the kitchen counter, had somehow shattered.

After showering, Wei Tingxia stood at the kitchen door with wet hair, his face extremely grim.

He didn’t have many dishes or cups; at this rate, he’d soon be eating with his hands.

“Can’t wait any longer,” Wei Tingxia wiped his face. “If this keeps up, my house will collapse. Need to wrap this up quickly.”

Though he always topped the honor roll, most of his mission-earned data points went toward filing reports and greasing palms. His personal account had few points left—nowhere near enough to buy and furnish a new house.

Feeling the urgency, Wei Tingxia shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, then thumped back upstairs, lay on the bed, and closed his eyes.

“Start the transfer. I’m ready.”

Yongkang Year 9.

In a border town.

The old man selling steamed biscuits shouldered two sacks of grain and hurried past the street corner. He stopped by a mostly dead willow tree, set down the sacks, squatted by the roots, and shouted loudly.

“Steamed biscuits! Steamed biscuits!”

He bellowed at the top of his lungs when suddenly, a window pushed open from another small hut. A woman’s weathered face, ravaged by wind and sand, appeared.

“Old sir, how much for a steamed biscuit?” the woman asked.

As she spoke, a small head poked out from under her arm—a chubby boy with a topknot, his round black face peering curiously at the biscuits.

The old man held up three fingers. “Three coppers each.”

“What’s going on? Weren’t they two before?” The woman was puzzled, raising her voice. “Old sir, you can’t raise prices every day in business.”

“Hey now, listen to you. I raised them because grain’s scarce,” the old man had his own logic. “One look at you, and I know you’re not local. You must know war’s brewing—grain’s just enough to eat and drink. My biscuits naturally cost more.”

His eye was sharp; the woman wasn’t local. She’d come to the border garrison with her husband, who had family in the army, so she knew war was coming.

“Fine, fine. Two, then.”

She fetched some coppers from the house, called the old man over. As they drew near, he stood in the window’s shadow, his wrinkled face scanning around, then whispered: “Ma’am, I’ll short you one copper if you just tell me—will this war drag on long?”

No wonder his worry; though it was a border town rife with constant strife, no one liked war. Besides, since the Yunzhong Marquis took command of the Profound North Army, he’d wielded troops like a god, greatly reducing the conflicts over the years.

After rare years of peace, no one wanted to hear the clash of arms again. The mere sight of war smoke made hearts race like rabbits up and down.

The woman brightened at saving a copper and quickly pocketed one.

“Bah, don’t worry,” she smirked with reassurance. “My man came home a few days ago—said the enemy won’t last, bound to collapse soon. Won’t drag on.”

“Really? Good, good…” The old man’s tense shoulders relaxed, a smile creasing his wrinkles. “Marquis Yan is divine in battle, invincible as always.”

“You bet,” the woman took the still-warm biscuits and continued casually. “Years back, I went with my man to an army banquet—saw Marquis Yan from afar. He was truly…”

She paused, as if recalling. “A heavenly figure, extraordinarily valiant, unparalleled in bearing!”

The old man nodded vigorously. “Naturally!”

Flattered, the woman’s chatterbox opened wide; she forgot herself, her voice lightening. “That banquet was rare—the marquis mingling with the troops. You should’ve seen, right by his side was…”

The woman’s voice cut off abruptly, as if an invisible hand choked her throat. Her face, moments ago smug with pride, froze; panic flashed in her eyes as she realized she’d said too much.

She glanced swiftly at the old man, lips twitching, but no words came. She just gripped the biscuits tightly, knuckles whitening.

The old man, engrossed and awaiting more, saw her choke and stop. His easy smile solidified.

Old and dim-eyed as he was, he hadn’t lived in vain—he knew she’d said something she shouldn’t.

With the mood frozen, he asked no more, pretended not to hear, shrank into the shadows: “Ah, of course Marquis Yan has talents aplenty… Ma’am, take the biscuits—eat hot. I’m off.”

He spoke while hurrying away from the window, turning briskly toward the alley’s other end, leaving the woman alone at the window, clutching her saved copper that now felt heavy, even hot.

…

Inside the Shuo Kingdom army tent.

Fu Chi smashed a cup to the ground, face flushed red, chest heaving violently. He drew his sword to kill the messenger.

Luckily, someone nearby blocked him, saving the soldier’s life.

“Killing in anger now—what use is that, General?”

The military advisor earnestly advised: “Right now, think how to retreat. Killing him might unsettle the troops and complicate things later!”