Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Artificial Soul Part 30

Silverface was not always called Silverface; he had an earlier designation: Ⅰ-B-1-1.

The letter “I” meant he was a Class I artificially gene-edited human, “B” denoted the person whose genes had been used as the sample, and “1” in his code indicated he was a首批,首批 manufactured specimen. The final “1” symbolized that he was the first in order to be produced, making him the first B-class gene-edited human born and the first successfully surviving artificial being.

Unlike his brothers who had grown rapidly through expedient methods, he naturally developed. The researchers who created him held him in special regard, often saying to him, “You are unlike the other inferior products.”

“Where do we differ?” he responded in puzzlement, “yet our appearances seem identical.”

“Appearance may be similar,” the researcher’s gaze grew deep as it fell on him, “but what I look at is the deeper essence. You have a soul; they don’t.”

“Then, what is a soul?” He asked in bewilderment.

“A soul is a concept that exists simultaneously in the realms of philosophy, religion, and reality, which might be challenging for someone like you to grasp.” The investigator pressed his shoulder firmly, guiding him to observe an unmoving white-haired artificial being standing inside the laboratory.

“Attack him,” ordered the researcher, giving him a push.

He approached obediently and punched the identical-looking artificial being onto the ground.

Lying there silently, without struggle or tears, this artificial being was devoid of response.

They were puppets without strings, lifeless dolls bereft of their souls, unable to think, feel happiness or sadness, devoid of any sense of pain or emotion.

The researcher brought him back and took his hand, pulling out a scalpel from his pocket, piercing the palm with cold efficiency, blood gushing forth and causing him to tremble with agony and tears to fall involuntarily.

“Does it hurt?” the researcher whispered softly.

“It hurts… It hurts a lot…” He cradled his injured hand, eyes welling over.

“Are there any feelings beyond pain?”

“I… I don’t know. I feel awful…”

“What do you want most right now?”

“I want to stop the wound from hurting,” he replied, “I want… I want…”

“Speak up, what is your innermost thought?” The researcher knelt down, meeting the pink-eyed child eye to eye, “Tell me.”

After a moment of stillness, he spoke, “I want… for you to feel the same pain, or worse, as I do…”

“Interesting,” the researcher said satisfied, “This emotion is called hatred. This is what makes you unique. You are an artificial being with a soul, while your ‘brothers’ do not possess one. They are only living shells, lacking true self-consciousness and merely considered items, not worthy of ‘they’, but to be referred to as ‘it’.”

“Why do I have something they do not?” He looked puzzled.

“Perhaps it’s a random factor; maybe you stand as the lone miracle,” the researcher explained, “No matter how advanced our technology becomes in creating artificial beings, no one else will ever again have a soul or self-awareness like yours.”

He rubbed his bleeding hand against his chest to locate the elusive essence of a soul, “Where does the soul lie within the body—the heart, the head, or the stomach?”

The researcher expressed some doubt, “Why would you speculate that the soul resides in the stomach?”

Sincerely he stated his hypothesis, “Whenever I eat, my stomach feels warm and comfortable. Since the soul is so rare and precious, it could very well be in the stomach, akin to food, as a good thing.”

The researcher stared silently…

Seeing the helpless expression on the研究员’s face, he cautiously remarked, “Then perhaps the soul isn’t such a wonderful thing after all? Agh… Having a soul brings pain, and without it, there’s none… Upon reflection, the soul indeed isn’t so great!”

“No, you cannot think this way,” the researcher corrected him, “Because the soul is a treasure, you must endure pain and negative emotions to gain it. But with a soul, you can perceive the joy and warmth of food and gain spiritual fulfillment—things your artificial brothers cannot.”

After contemplation, he decided resolutely, “Then… having a soul is better.”

At that moment, the researcher handed him a scalpel, “Go ahead, kill the defective one lying down.”

“Oh,” he walked over and knelt down, cutting the artificial being’s throat with the blade. Blood splattered all over the ground before reaching his feet, soaking his shoes in red.

Two minutes passed and the bleeding finally stopped. He touched the artificial being’s face, looked up, and reported, “He’s dead.”

“How do you feel now?” The researcher analyzed him closely.

“I don’t much like blood’s color, it’s dyed my shoes crimson, and it saddens me,” he answered.

The researcher gazed upon him, asking, “That is all?”

“Wha—otherwise?” He didn’t comprehend why the researcher wore such an indescribable expression on his face.

“Suppose I command you to kill a soul-bearing being, say, myself?” the researcher said, although he clarified it was a hypothetical scenario, “I would never actually request that.”

“Whatever orders come my way, I follow,” he declared.

The researcher fell into silence for some time.

“Is something amiss? Have I acted improperly?” The question arose through his reflection.

“Do you even consider refusing?” asked the researcher.

“Why would I refuse?” He remained perplexed.

“The death of a living being doesn’t make you feel a pang of discomfort? Doesn’t invoke any stirring in your soul?”

He scrutinized his heart, then his head, touching them before settling on his stomach. Finally, he said, “My heart, my head, and my stomach felt nothing. My soul did not stir either.”

The researcher couldn’t find the words to respond.

He insisted, “So the soul isn’t contained in the heart, head, and stomach—isn’t there anywhere else?”

“It might be due to a lack of understanding about the concept of death, an insufficiency of social norms leading to inadequate empathy, which might be remedied by further learning… But never mind… you obeying orders is good,” the researcher sighed.

…

Amidst the chaotic fire, Kui Xin spotted the figure encircled by the swirling fire vortex.

Frozen to the spot, she pondered—before her lay over a dozen “Silverfaces”, all extraordinary ability wielders.

Among them were individuals possessing extraordinary capabilities graded as B-level, and Kui Xin could see the precise effects of “Pure Water”. Yet others displayed A-level abilities, with only the names “Pure Water” visible to her eyes.

Roughly estimating, she counted eight A-level and eight B-level individuals.

“What is this?” Kui Xin found the words difficult to speak, “Clones? Cloned extraordinary ability users?”

Wei Zhi had never before sported such a flustered look, uttering the grim possibility, “It seems so.”

As the Silverfaces began to move, their hands interlocked, summoning the rain to coalesce under their control, consolidating the airborne moisture into a semi-circular shield. This collaborative defense countered the highly corrosive Black Flame.

When water met fire, steam hissed and bubbled; neither seemed able to overpower the other. The Silverfaces controlled this vapor as well, and with an inexhaustible supply of water, they secured the advantage.

Controlled streams quickly boiled away due to the flames. Suddenly, the clone manipulated the boiling water into a whip, lashing out towards Kui Xin and Wei Zhi.

The team narrowly dodged as the water whip collided with a fire wall, evaporating into a white mist.

“Quite interesting…” After a brief assessment of the capabilities of the twelve individuals, Wang Feichi smirked, his teeth exposed in an ominous grin, “Where did you get his genetic information from?”

He withdrew the flame vortex, gathering a needle of pitch-black concentrated flame. With a flick of his fingers, the black needle effortlessly pierced the defensive water shield and struck one of the clones, engulfing it in a surge of fire.

In less than three seconds, the clone dissolved into ashes.

“What’s your goal?” Wang Feichi readied another needle of black flame and sent it flying once more.

This strike caused a burst from the targeted clone, spraying gore and blood across the scene.

“You won’t tell, huh? We’ll take our sweet time, then. Wei Zhi, keep your secretary out of this; I’ll handle it.” Wang Feichi chuckled menacingly, his five fingers each equipped with a sharp, black needle, “Who do you think I am, that you’d believe a handful of ants could finish me off?”

Kui Xin shifted her gaze towards Silverface and Red, who were hiding behind the water shield, “Opposite you stands someone who can teleport spatially. Is there any means to cut off enemy communications and destroy electronic equipment to hamper accurate coordination?”

“Yes.” Adam replied, “By utilizing electromagnetic shock to disable all equipment in the area, our branch two kilometers away has this capability. Its range covers a radius of five kilometers with devices designed to withstand interference. However, it’s uncertain if they employ similar defenses. If affected by the electromagnetic shock, the enemy’s equipment is expected to malfunction for roughly three minutes.”

Once, this tactic had been used by Eve, during the initial sabotage at the docking port, where Mechanized Dawn exploited the opportunity to switch around personnel identities, swapping the real Kui Xin with an impostor.

Kui Xin requested permission from Wei Zhi, “Group leader, is it permissible to use this?”

Wei Zhi’s expression fluctuated, “It’s permitted.”

Such weaponry had extensive coverage, causing severe disruption to nearby residential areas and power lines and was typically restricted. Nevertheless, given their current predicament, its deployment was necessary.

Her strategy aimed to mask the activities of Eve, obstructing her surveillance.

In a nearby confrontation, Wang Feichi gained an upper hand as a deep blue vortex materialized beneath his feet. Terrified, he felt himself plummet into its depths, only barely escaping as the vortex abruptly closed. His hand hit the ground just in time to evade the closing portal, avoiding severance of his legs.

Instantaneously, a second blue vortex sprang beneath his propping palm, sucking in his arm and instantly severing it!