Chapter 49: Ambers of the Long Night (5)
“Just playing games can make your level drop? What kind of dystopian society is this…” Tang Mobai couldn’t help but mutter.
“Did you forget?” Emmanuel smiled faintly. “That’s basically correct. Well—looks like we’re about to reach the city area. Ment, open up the restaurant’s window display.”
“Yes, sir.” Ment obeyed, and what had looked like a solid metal wall turned half-transparent. The next moment, the entire wall transformed into a massive “floor-to-ceiling window.” Sunlight poured in—without a hint of heat—and a brilliant, futuristic cityscape appeared before everyone’s eyes.
It was like something straight out of a sci-fi film: towering skyscrapers glowing with neon lights, dozens of them easily more than a hundred stories tall, disappearing into the clouds. Around some buildings ran looping tracks that looked like roller coasters—until Tang Mobai realized, after a few seconds, that those were roads. Suspended, droplet-shaped vehicles docked on sky platforms around the fiftieth floor, dropping off neatly dressed business elites.
The airways themselves served as transportation hubs. For example, the airship they were on was currently hovering at an “aerial traffic light,” waiting for clearance to pass.
“Twenty years ago, our tallest building had only eighteen floors,” Emmanuel said. “Back then, ground transportation was still dominant—airships and drones were only conceptual. But now, gasoline or electric vehicles have completely vanished from history. What replaced them are airships like the one we’re riding. Compared to the ever-congested roads below, the open skies have made travel more than twice as efficient.”
“And not just transportation. Every area of technology is advancing by leaps and bounds. All of this is thanks to the Super-Intelligent Core. The neural chips connected to it have replaced almost every device—networking, communication, identification, learning, entertainment. Everything you can do in society can now be done through the chip. Just think the word ‘menu,’ and all your available functions appear before your eyes.”
Hearing this, Tang Mobai curiously tried it—and sure enough, a translucent interface appeared before him, full of different panels. Most were locked, though. When he tried opening “Store,” a notice popped up: Access denied—level too low.
Yan Wuzhen raised an eyebrow. “So this rapid societal development comes from the ranking and evaluation system you mentioned?”
Emmanuel smiled. “Exactly. More precisely, a person’s level is based on five dimensions—Virtue, Intelligence, Physique, Aesthetics, and Labor.”
“‘Virtue’ refers to moral conduct. If someone insults or harms others, or acts against the public good, their moral score drops. For politicians and public figures, this metric is extremely important.”
“‘Intelligence’ obviously refers to knowledge and mental ability. ‘Physique’ measures your physical health—illness or weakness can make you unfit for many jobs.”
“‘Aesthetics’ originally meant cultural or artistic refinement, but because that’s hard to quantify, it’s now mostly tied to appearance and physical perfection.” Emmanuel’s gaze swept over Tang Mobai’s group, and he nodded approvingly. “After all, our society promotes eugenics—the better your genes, the more likely you are to earn reproduction rights.”
“And ‘Labor’…” Emmanuel’s tone shifted slightly. “That one changes the most in weight. Simply put, it measures your contribution to society, and the weighting changes with policy each year. Right now, the highest-weighted profession—without a doubt—is scientist.”
“Because of the world-ending crisis?” Seth asked casually, glancing out the window. “But outside looks… anything but apocalyptic.”
Indeed—it looked like civilization at its peak. Airships and maglev lines pulsed through the city like blood through veins, ceaselessly circulating and sustaining the system. There was no idleness—every passerby moved with purpose.
From the outside alone, it was impossible to believe that this world’s collapse rate was already sixty percent. For a brief moment, Tang Mobai wondered if Lost Paradise had made a mistake.
Emmanuel also looked out the window, then asked quietly, “How long do you think has passed between the civilization of the Lost City and the present day?”
“Five hundred years?” Tang Mobai guessed.
Seth compared the architecture and technology they’d seen. “At least a thousand.”
“The scientific community has two main hypotheses,” Emmanuel said. “One places the Lost Civilization at ten thousand years ago. The other… within the past hundred years.”
Everyone froze.
“No way—how could the difference be that big?” Tang Mobai was the first to speak. “Don’t you have accurate dating methods? Radiocarbon dating, paleomagnetism—something? With your level of tech, that kind of ambiguity shouldn’t exist!”
“If it were a normal ruin, we could date it accurately,” Emmanuel sighed. “But that’s assuming it’s normal.”
“All Lost Cities appeared overnight.”
Yan Wuzhen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Literally,” Emmanuel replied. He pulled up a map, pointing at a circled area—the desert where they’d just been. “This zone is an uninhabited region near an oasis. Locals sometimes rested there during desert crossings. But one week ago, the oasis vanished—and in its place appeared the Lost City we just visited.”
“There are countless examples like this. Every Lost City appeared out of nowhere. Our rapid technological progress over the last twenty years? It’s largely because these Lost Cities all began emerging during that time.”
“And based on the rate of organic decay found within them, these cities disappeared less than a century ago. That’s why we have two completely different timelines.”
Emmanuel rubbed his temples and gave a strained smile. “We call them ‘lost civilizations’ because we don’t even know what they were, why they vanished, or when they existed.”
“In your recorded history, there’s been no break in continuity?” Yan Wuzhen asked after a long silence.
“None. For at least ten thousand years, our history has been intact—no missing eras,” Emmanuel replied. “Before that… who knows.”
“Then why are you so certain your world is nearing destruction?” Yan Wuzhen pressed. “We have Lost Paradise as proof of crisis—but what about you? Your world seems stable, even thriving. Why conclude it’s doomed? Just because you met us? A rational person would suspect we’re liars before believing strangers predicting apocalypse.”
Seth added, “From your story, I see a contradiction. Your history shows no gaps, yet lost civilizations keep appearing. Either your history is false—or the Lost Cities are. Normally, logic would doubt the Lost Cities, since all human records support your version.”
“Almost all…”
Tang Mobai suddenly realized. “The Super-Intelligent Core—you suspect it.”
“Exactly,” Emmanuel said hoarsely. “At first, everyone thought the problem lay with the Lost Cities—maybe they used tech that compressed time or space. But as time went on, another possibility arose: What if the problem is us?
Remember, every human has a neural chip implanted at the base of their neck. Every action, every word, every thought exists under the Core’s evaluation system.
What if the Core has altered our memories—fabricated our history—and the truth is that the Lost Civilizations perished a hundred years ago? That we’re merely rebuilding atop their ruins?
And your appearance proves it—the world still hasn’t escaped its cycle of destruction. The Core just blinds us to it.
Just like you in Lost Paradise—you didn’t even know you were inside a game.”
The theory resembled the “brain in a vat” thought experiment: imagine a scientist removes a brain from a body, keeps it alive in nutrient fluid, and connects it to a supercomputer that simulates all sensory inputs. The brain would experience a virtual world identical to reality.
Would it ever know it’s in a simulation?
In the real world, such speculation is meaningless—it’s impossible to prove. But in this world, Emmanuel’s people had a way to test it.
By completing the Lost Paradise mission and briefly removing the Super-Intelligent Core from the network, they could see what happened.
If the world truly was a simulation, everyone would awaken to the real world the instant the Core was disconnected. If not—they could simply plug it back in.
“So basically, it all leads to the same goal—taking control of the Core,” Tang Mobai sighed, slumping into his chair. “All that philosophy talk for nothing.”
Emmanuel chuckled softly. “You’re not wrong. Either way, our objective stays the same—boost your levels as fast as possible. What’s everyone’s current rank?”
Yan Wuzhen massaged his temple. “Level 7.”
Seth: “Level 9.”
Deville: “Level 15.”
Tang Mobai: “I’m level 10… wait, wasn’t I level 0 before?”
“That’s because of the genius weighting,” Emmanuel explained. “I tweaked your chips. Since you have no past record in this world, the Core reads you like infants. And for an ‘infant’ to sleep, wash, and eat by himself—that’s quite impressive.”
Tang Mobai grinned. “As expected of me—such a talented baby.”
Yan Wuzhen, Deville, Seth: “…”
“Wouldn’t that kind of tampering trigger the Core’s bug detection?” Yan Wuzhen asked.
“Probably not…”
“Probably?”
“This is my first time running this plan,” Emmanuel said helplessly, shrugging. “You can’t expect a flawless operation from me. I’m human. Humans make mistakes—I’m not the Wise-King.”
“The Wise-King?”
“The current queen of Opatra—the Wise-King. With the Core’s assistance, she’s never once made a mistake.”
Yan Wuzhen narrowed his eyes. “Impossible. As long as someone’s human, they make mistakes.”
“But she never has,” Emmanuel said quietly. “The Wise-King is perfection itself. Anyway, let’s stay on track. Your next task is to find your areas of strength and raise your ranks—as high as possible, at least to level 50.”
“Why level 50?” Tang Mobai asked.
“Fifty is the threshold for anyone under ten years old — we call them Reserve Heirs,” Emmanuel explained. “There can only be one Level 100 in this world — the current Wise King. Once the Wise King dies, the next one will be chosen from among the Reserve Heirs. Of course, fifty is only the bare minimum; the higher your level, the better. And because your chip ‘age’ is so low, no Reserve Heir could possibly surpass you in the genius weighting.”
This time, before Emmanuel could elaborate, Tang Mobai quickly answered, “Because we’ve only been in this world for a few days — we’re babies!”
“Exactly.” Emmanuel smiled faintly. “So over the next few days, I hope you’ll each find the field you excel at — preferably one that aligns with the current social weighting system. We’ll help you with that, of course.”
Yan Wuzhen had been watching Emmanuel’s expression closely. When he spoke that last sentence, his gaze swept across everyone present, but it lingered noticeably longer on Tang Mobai and Seth.
It was obvious: though there were several candidates here, Emmanuel’s true interest lay only in Tang Mobai and Seth.
That wasn’t hard to understand. They must have guessed who had built that powerful bomb — and since Seth was half-human, half-machine, it was clear his native world’s technology level wasn’t low either.
Which meant Yan Wuzhen… was probably just a free add-on.
Maintaining his usual polite smile, Yan Wuzhen quietly clenched his jaw.
Just then, a familiar ID flashed across his live-stream chat:
Secret Forest: [Yan Wuzhen, remember us? Come out and meet us.]
After Emmanuel finished emphasizing what they could and couldn’t do — especially things that might affect their moral score — he dismissed them, giving everyone time to explore society freely, gather intel, and find the most efficient way to raise their level.
While everyone else was busy thinking, Tang Mobai was already taking it easy. He simply opened the “menu,” connected to the network, and then his livestream — flipping through their technology database like a soulless page-turning machine.
How rare, he thought — to have the leisure to browse an entire world’s science tree inside a mission copy. If he could have a few more missions like this, he’d be the happiest college student alive!
A knock came at the door. A small head peeked in. “Brother Mobai, may I come in?”
Tang Mobai turned. “Sure, what’s up?”
Deville walked in with his head down, looking oddly downcast. That made Tang Mobai frown in confusion. “What’s wrong? Someone bullying you?”
Deville shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something but hesitated.
“Brother Mobai… I—I’m a little scared.”
“Huh? Scared? Of what?”
Deville bit his lip. “Actually… I told Emmanuel everything. About Lost Paradise — all of it.”
Tang Mobai froze. “You weren’t captured with us?”
Deville shook his head. “No. I don’t know why, but I appeared somewhere else — and unfortunately, Emmanuel’s team found me. I was terrified of being tortured, so I told them everything.”
No wonder Emmanuel knew so much about Lost Paradise… So the guild people weren’t lying after all.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you were caught.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Tang Mobai ruffled his hair. “If not for you, we might never have learned how to get high mission ratings.”
“Really? You’re not angry with me?” Deville looked up, surprised.
“Of course not. Honestly, if it weren’t for Emmanuel, I probably wouldn’t even have this mission score. I don’t really want to destroy someone else’s world anyway.”
“…”
As expected, the jealous personality sneered silently within.
Even the seven-year-old in mind like Deville couldn’t help but marvel inwardly — How did someone like this survive in Lost Paradise? Must be because of his sponsor.
He and Emmanuel had overheard Tang Mobai’s argument with Yan Wuzhen earlier, and after a brief encounter last night, he’d basically figured out why Tang Mobai had willingly chosen to cooperate with Emmanuel.
But he couldn’t let that cooperation actually succeed — because Deville’s goal was also to obtain the Super-Intellect.
So he deliberately put on a hesitant expression. Tang Mobai, predictably, took the bait. “What’s wrong?”
“But… what if Emmanuel’s true goal isn’t to save the world?” Deville lifted his eyes, voice trembling with fear. “What if he just wants to escape this world — and take the Super-Intellect with him? What if he’s been lying to you all along?”
Tang Mobai froze again. The possibility didn’t seem entirely far-fetched. After all, if Emmanuel got both the Lost Paradise credentials and the Super-Intellect, he could simply refuse to return. He could keep the AI for himself — and the crisis of his original world would no longer matter.
“Well, there’s not much I can do,” Tang Mobai said with a wry smile after a pause. “My life’s in his hands — and I’ve already signed the contract.”
“Actually… there might be a way,” Deville said softly. This was the crucial part of his performance. He twisted his fingers nervously and bowed his head to hide his expression. “I didn’t sign a contract with Emmanuel. So… if you ever find out something’s wrong with him, you can hand the Super-Intellect to me first. As long as it’s not in your possession, the contract can’t take effect.”
…Ah.
Tang Mobai blinked, recognizing the real reason for Deville’s visit. “You want the Super-Intellect too?”
“No!” Deville raised his head quickly. “I just need the mission score… I really need an A-rank evaluation so I can move on to the next Hell.
“I’m still alive because someone’s been protecting me. My ability’s special. But he’s already gone to the next Hell, so I have to earn my score quickly.”
Deville knew the biggest hole in his persona: as a child barely seven years old, how could he have survived in Lost Paradise? That’s why he’d carefully crafted this story — a gifted child protected by someone powerful.
The perfect balance of pity and temptation.
A trap tailor-made for someone like Tang Mobai — whose kindness and gullibility were both his greatest flaws.
Unfortunately for him, if Yan Wuzhen were here, he’d have warned Deville from experience: never lie to Tang Mobai. Because with the backer that man had, lies never worked on him.
And indeed, in the expert panel, Gong Yao was already watching Deville’s little act and shaking his head. “Three classic deception tells in just that short speech. He’s definitely not just after mission points.”
Which was strange — based on Tang Mobai’s earlier intel, Deville was suspected to be a high-ranking Arch-Demon. So why would someone like that care about a B-level world’s mission rewards?
What did he really want the Super-Intellect for?
Thank you for reading 🙂 I hope you all liked my translations. If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi 😉
