Chapter 7: Don’t Be Afraid, the World Wants to See You Too

His hand brushed against the bionic person’s snow-white, soft muscles. Xie Jianxun truly didn’t know where to put his hands, feet, or eyes. Being cradled with his legs supported, he behaved as obediently as a quail.

Immediately, he heard a muffled chuckle rumbling from the bionic person’s throat.

“Just booted up, I didn’t notice.”

The bionic person’s eyes curved slightly. With one hand, it easily held Xie Jianxun in place while the other swiftly fastened the buttons, returning to its initial appearance wrapped in a pitch-black uniform.

For some reason, Xie Jianxun let out a sigh of relief.

He rested his hand on the bionic person’s shoulder, his fingers sliding down to a part that clearly didn’t feel like human skin.

It was hard—metallic.

Xie Jianxun paused, but before he could pull back, the bionic person noticed.

“Sorry, this section of skin was damaged earlier and hasn’t been repaired yet.”

The bionic person’s cool, clear voice sounded by his ear. Xie Jianxun asked in confusion, “I remember that bionic persons only have mechanical components in their hearts and some bones. The rest has been replaced with bionic materials?”

The bionic person turned its face slightly toward him and smiled faintly. “I’m not a bionic person, so I don’t use bionic materials… I’m a Mechanical Puppet.”

It still had a high degree of mechanization—a killing machine designed for war.

Over a dozen years ago, to win the war against the Insect Clan, these predecessors to the bionic persons had been manufactured and deployed across the interstellar regions.

Mechanical Puppets.

They won that war that spanned the entire galaxy, allowing the Federation to claim its current vast territories and development.

And the total commander of that war was the Main Brain, “Emerald.”

Perhaps the predecessors could never have imagined that a mechanical intelligent lifeform would control all of the Federation’s weapons factories, rather than humans themselves.

Tens of thousands of Mechanical Puppets under Its command set out from the factories, fearless of death, fighting bravely, and afterward voluntarily entered dormancy until this day.

People had once questioned the Main Brain’s legitimacy, wondering if such a mechanically created god would oppose humanity or seize human living spaces.

But later, they realized such doubts were pointless—truthfully, the entire Federation was already under the Main Brain’s control. The only difference was that It didn’t demand emperor-like worship but instead managed and perfected everything in the Federation.

The Mechanical Puppet’s fingers tightened on its arm. It lowered its head and met a pair of sparkling eyes.

“It’s actually a Mechanical Puppet that’s been missing for over a dozen years!” Xie Jianxun exclaimed in awe. “I heard that all Mechanical Puppets swore an oath before the Main Brain before heading into battle—is that true?”

He had only seen this uncrowned king on television and was genuinely curious.

The Mechanical Puppet replied mildly, “Yes, we swore an oath: we would not retreat until the mission was complete.”

Xie Jianxun asked, “What’s your name?”

The Mechanical Puppet thought for a moment. “I don’t have a name, only a serial number… You can call me One.”

At that moment, they descended the tower’s stairs. Xie Jianxun wanted to get down and walk on his own, but One’s grip didn’t loosen; it held him securely.

A commotion stirred in the darkness again. Xie Jianxun froze and quietly pulled back his outstretched foot. Truth be told, he was still quite afraid of some bug suddenly chomping on his foot.

“Are there bugs?” he asked nervously.

One seemed puzzled. “No, not bugs.”

The Mechanical Puppet turned its face away carefully to avoid Xie Jianxun. One of its eyes transformed into a flashlight, illuminating the ruins in the darkness.

Only then did Xie Jianxun see clearly: the darkness was filled with dilapidated Mechanical Puppets, lying or sitting around. Some had only half a head, some had exposed wires—they were far from resembling bionic persons and clearly showed “mechanical” and “puppet” features, scattered haphazardly on the ground.

One head twitched, turning to reveal a pair of hollow eye sockets.

Xie Jianxun: “…”

It was like the scene of a horror movie.

The young human in its arms clearly shrank back. One paused, realizing something, and gently patted his back to soothe him.

“Don’t be afraid. They’re my subordinates.”

One stopped, and these Mechanical Puppets all stared straight at them. Xie Jianxun felt like they were staring at him; his scalp tingled, and he unconsciously burrowed deeper into One’s embrace.

“Why did everyone wake up now?” One asked in confusion. “No need to reply. Everyone, listen to my command—shut down the backup power.”

One by one, small lights went out following its words. The puppets obediently lowered their heads and fell back into dormancy.

One continued forward, crossing the open area.

Xie Jianxun, draped over its shoulder, looked back. His fingers were still a bit weak.

He managed to say, “…Don’t they need repairs?”

In their current state, they looked quite creepy.

Who knew One would reply, “We’re all walking corpses now. It’s not worth repairing them.”

Xie Jianxun: “………………”

He wore a bewildered expression, as if doubting whether his ears had really heard that.

The human in its arms stared at it with wide eyes. One’s lips curved slightly, unusually pleased. “I guess you must have accidentally wandered in here. This is the Insect Clan’s revival stronghold—not a place for humans. I’ll escort you out.”

The Mechanical Puppet’s arm strength was unbelievably powerful.

The human was bundled in the Mechanical Puppet’s arms, weighing as if nothing. One carried him effortlessly with one hand. It moved lightly like a bird, landing without a sound.

They passed through a tunnel, the ground beneath their feet gradually shifting from hard stone bricks to sand.

At the tunnel’s end, the path cut off like a cliff, vanishing entirely.

Further ahead, everything was covered by flowing, compressing sand and gravel.

One set Xie Jianxun down and carefully shielded him to prevent the human from slipping and falling in.

“This is a ground quicksand flow,” One explained. “Cross this Flowing Sand River, and you’ll reach the surface. It’ll just take a bit of time, and it might be a little uncomfortable midway.”

Xie Jianxun looked down at the river of flowing sand, then turned to One.

He said nervously, “My lung capacity might not be enough.”

One soothed him gently, “It’ll only be two or three minutes. I’ll try to guide you around obstacles.”

In response, it received silence.

Xie Jianxun thought, Oh god, just kill me now.

He closed his eyes tightly in extreme tension and whispered, “I can’t even hold my breath underwater for a minute.” Let alone this long sand river.

One fell silent too. To a Mechanical Puppet, humans were infinitely more fragile lifeforms, and sometimes it was hard to measure them by Mechanical Puppet standards.

Xie Jianxun said, “I saw light inside. Can’t we go out that way?”

“Light?”

One immediately understood and raised an eyebrow slightly. “That’s an emergency light, not an exit.”

Xie Jianxun: “…………”

One lowered its head slightly, gazing at the young human who was half a head shorter than it. He looked somewhat panicked but was trying his utmost to stay calm—even his fingers clenched tightly, turning faintly red.

Xie Jianxun said, “No. I can’t stay down here forever. Just do it. I can endure it.”

He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs grow turbid.

One said softly, “Asphyxiation is very painful. Even I can’t be sure how long it’ll take to cross this Flowing Sand River.”

Xie Jianxun replied, “Better than dying underground. He… the family head would have to come collect my corpse and wouldn’t even find it. How would that look?” he muttered.

“The family head?”

One suddenly grew curious about the term. “Your parents?”

“My butler—you could say he’s like my dad.” Xie Jianxun tilted his head, thinking. Now that he recalled the man, he wasn’t so angry or shocked anymore. “Bossing me around, an old fogey who’s never even seen online dating…”

One suddenly asked, “What’s online dating?”

“Online…” Xie Jianxun paused. “Cough cough cough!”

He coughed violently, his cheeks tinged pink. “Online dating is, uh, finding someone online to date.”

“When I worked with humans in the past, I saw them dating too—two individuals eventually coming together.” One said, “Can you tell me what dating feels like?”

How to describe that? Xie Jianxun stumbled through, “It’s that feeling—like an electric current running through your heart, thrilling and yearning at the same time.”

One replied, “I know. When you installed the energy stone in me earlier, I felt that too.”

Not exactly that kind of physical current.

Xie Jianxun was amused.

Xie Jianxun chattered on for a good while, and One listened quietly by his side, occasionally interjecting with harmless little questions.

Finally, the young young master said dejectedly, “I just wanted to go out simply, to see people and the world I’ve never known… Is that wrong? I barely step out and nearly die?”

Along the way, he’d been unusually unlucky, everything bad happening to him, leaving him feeling helpless and down.

One furrowed its brows and thought for a long while.

Mechanical Puppets weren’t good at comforting people, so its words were sparse but gentle: “It’s not wrong. You’re very brave.”

“Don’t be afraid. The world wants to see you too.”

The Flowing Sand River was silent and terrifying. One foot in, and it could silently swallow a whole person.

Xie Jianxun, equipped with the oxygen mask One had given him, took a deep breath and pressed the display button on the gauge. The needle barely moved, indicating scant oxygen stored inside.

He didn’t dare inhale yet, afraid of using up what little there was in one go.

One adjusted itself, returned to the city briefly to fetch a thin rope, and tied Xie Jianxun to its back, leaving just enough space for the oxygen device.

Xie Jianxun obediently clung to its back, light as a feather.

But One could hear the young human’s heart pounding—faster and heavier. He was nervous, too nervous to even speak.

“Three, two, one,” One said lowly. “I’m jumping.”

Xie Jianxun’s mouth and nose were covered by the oxygen mask, so he could only make muffled “mmph mmph” sounds.

A dark glint flashed in the Mechanical Puppet’s eyes, and a faint smile tugged at its lips. It leaped lightly from the stone cliff.

Plunging headfirst into the planet’s underground Flowing Sand River.

…

The desert sun blazed overhead, every exposed grain of sand gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight.

A merchant caravan passed from the other side of the dune. They led camels, but no one in the group spoke.

Suddenly, someone pointed. “Isn’t that a person over there?”

The leader glanced over—nothing.

He frowned and warned, “Don’t go there. That’s the Man-Eating River.”

“Man-Eating River?” From the side of the group, the only young man swaying unsteadily on a camel suddenly asked.

A hemp cloth hood covered his head, hiding his face in shadow.

“Flowing Sand River—we call it the Man-Eating River,” the leader said tensely. “It looks just like the surrounding sand, but only experienced guides can accurately judge its width and range. Step in, and your foot gets stuck—you’ll be eaten alive…”

The young man smirked and pulled down his hood.

“How interesting,” he said lightly. “How many people has it eaten?”