### Chapter 46: Sea Without Light 46
Kui Xin never expected to see her unworthy father, who had absconded with money when she was in elementary school, again.
Although this unworthy father was a version from another world, the two had fundamental differences.
Kui Xin thought she had long forgotten what her unworthy father looked like, but the moment that face appeared before her, she recognized him instantly.
Faded memories became vivid; in her recollections, her unworthy father’s face had a few more wrinkles, a little extra weight, and even more white hair. It resembled the leader of Mechanized Dawn to almost ninety percent.
She had buried her father’s face deep in her memories, never recalling it over the years because thinking about it made her feel nauseous. Since the moment he abandoned her, she had resolved never to consider him her father again. But seeing him today, that face buried deep in Kui Xin’s memory resurfaced immediately.
She felt sick to her stomach, even wanting to vomit.
It was as if she had kicked a dung beetle that then scurried back to her feet.
It was hard to ignore, hard not to care. Why did this dung beetle insist on being in front of her? Couldn’t it just roll away out of sight? Why did it have to come back to disgust her with its filth?
The world’s malice hit her hard.
Kui Xin stared at Kui Haidong’s face, seriously contemplating what she could do to make this dung beetle completely roll away from her life and disappear forever.
Kui Xin once said, “I unilaterally believe my dad is no longer in this world.”
From the moment she decided her unworthy father was “dead,” she had no intention of allowing him to “resurrect.”
“What kind of look is that?” Kui Haidong was furious, “I’m your dad!”
Kui Xin pursed her lips, looked down for two or three seconds to gather her thoughts, and replied, “Oh, Dad.”
The instant that title slipped from her lips, Kui Xin felt a rush of blood and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She forced herself to say that word, maintaining the urge to vomit. She hadn’t called anyone “Dad” or “Mom” since she was seven; uttering that title was neither simple nor difficult.
Kui Xin didn’t regard the man before her as her father. Calling him that was merely for pretense to achieve other aims.
Kui Haidong’s expression softened; he glanced at Kui Xin and let out a snort, “So you do know I’m your dad.”
“Then what else would it be? Do I have a second biological dad?” Kui Xin responded with a sharp tone.
Kui Haidong’s blood pressure rose, “Is my daughter so uncomfortable that she can’t go three days without arguing with me?”
Kui Xin replied with a flat expression, “Maybe my rebellious phase has returned; get used to it.”
“What rebellious phase? I’ve seen no sign of you ever outgrowing it!” Kui Haidong exploded in anger.
Kui Xin nodded, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “Dad, you’re absolutely right; it seems I’ve never really grown out of it… You truly have keen and astute observational skills.”
“You…!” Kui Haidong’s blood pressure spiked again, “Night Cicada! Take her to do her business! I don’t want to see her!”
“Yes, boss.” Night Cicada looked at Kui Xin reluctantly, pointing his finger to open a deep blue portal.
Kui Haidong glared at Kui Xin with a look that said “How did I raise such a rebellious daughter” before storming into the portal, disappearing from sight.
Night Cicada raised his hands in surrender, “Miss, you’ve upset the boss again.”
“It’s not my fault; he’s the one who can’t take a joke,” Kui Xin said.
“They say family doesn’t hold grudges overnight; why is it different for you, Miss? The boss was actually trying to make peace with you,” Night Cicada said leisurely. “The boss only shows this kind of attitude when it comes to your matters. He commands the business world with authority, and in the underground world, he’s firm and resolute. Only with you does he act like an ordinary father going through a mid-life crisis.”
“Mind your own business,” Kui Xin said. “Just take care of yourself.”
“Fine, I’ll shut up.” Night Cicada placed his hand over his mouth, mimicking a zippered motion.
Night Cicada held a rather prominent position in Mechanized Dawn, one higher than Red.
Kui Xin noted that Night Cicada dared to joke about Kui Haidong’s mid-life crisis… That was a joke only those with a close relationship could make. Night Cicada and Kui Haidong seemed to share a dynamic akin to a mix of friends and superior-subordinate.
“Um, you need to get a blood sample first,” Night Cicada said. “The boss has always hoped you would awaken a powerful ability, but super-fast healing works too. The commander must survive to better direct the troops into battle.”
Kui Xin didn’t want to engage, so she remained silent.
Night Cicada led the way in front of Kui Xin, and they walked out of the silver meeting room into the corridor. The corridor was also encased in hard metal; every twenty meters they would pass a thick metal door, where blue lights scanned them from head to toe before it would finally open.
Even the security measures in the third-floor prison of the Investigation Bureau weren’t much better.
“How’s Silverface?” Night Cicada asked casually while walking. “The boss said you need someone powerful by your side for protection, so I recommended Silverface. This kid is someone I trained, and Red praises him for having potential.”
“He’s very useful,” Kui Xin said honestly.
If Kui Haidong intended for his daughter to take over his position, then Silverface should be one of the talented individuals he selected for her.
“As long as he’s useful,” Night Cicada replied. “He’s not the brightest, and a bit rigid, but his abilities are outstanding, making him suitable to be at your side. Ambereye and Black Obsidian are also great, but the boss originally favored them. However, they tend to overthink things; being twins, they are a unit that’s hard to control.”
He noticed Kui Xin looking at him and smiled: “The boss doesn’t mean to question your leadership abilities. I only mention this to tell you that the boss values you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be strategizing so much for you.”
“Hmm.” Kui Xin responded vaguely.
Value? Why was he sending his own daughter to execute an undercover mission? This task was fraught with dangers, and any misstep could cost her life. If he truly cared for his daughter, how could he put her in a position where she might die?
Or perhaps something was more important to Kui Haidong than his daughter’s safety?
Kui Xin didn’t expect her father in the Second World to be any better.
In the First World, there were too many things that mattered more to Kui Haidong than family, such as money, power, fame, and his own life.
A life of luxury and wealth was far more important than parents, a far greater priority than a wife or daughter.
After passing through five metal doors, Night Cicada led her to a side-opening door.
After scanning their irises, they entered to find a doctor in waiting.
Kui Xin sat down in a chair, and the doctor silently tied a rubber band around her arm and took her blood. Just like in the Investigation Bureau’s testing, she received a local anesthetic while a small piece of tissue was cut from her body.
The entire blood extraction process took less than three minutes and was quite swift.
Next, the doctor conducted a comprehensive physical exam and scans, checking height, weight, body fat percentage, bone structure, internal organs, and hormone levels—all meticulously screened.
Kui Xin measured one hundred seventy-five centimeters tall, weighed one hundred twenty-five pounds, and had a muscle density greater than fat. Her body fat percentage was low, with muscle making up most of her physique. Lifting her shirt would reveal eight abdominal muscles, and rolling up her sleeves showed her biceps; her muscular physique was key to maintaining her combat effectiveness. She couldn’t continue to gain muscle and weight, as being overweight would affect her agility; her coach in the Investigation Bureau had also reminded her of this.
After the physical examination, Kui Xin and Night Cicada returned to the corridor.
Night Cicada said, “Have you passed the Awakened eligibility review? The Investigation Bureau seems to be strict about this.”
“Approved,” Kui Xin replied succinctly.
“Is that Jiang Meimei’s extraordinary ability confirmed to be lie detection?” Night Cicada continued, “It was rumored before, but there was no chance to confirm it. We can hardly reach in; you’re the first one to step into the core.”
“It is indeed lie detection, but it seems to have limitations. With appropriate guidance during conversation, I can evade her inquiries,” Kui Xin explained. “But this is based on her not suspecting me; if she interrogates me like a suspect, allowing me to answer only ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ I would still be exposed. Jiang Meimei herself claimed her ability is even more accurate than the most advanced lie detectors.”
“It seems you’re handling it well,” Night Cicada remarked. “If it were someone else, they might not have managed to slip past so smoothly… Lie detectors confirm whether a subject is lying based on physiological data, and Jiang Meimei… Haha, extraordinary abilities never follow simple logic.”
“After passing the Awakened eligibility review, all my information will be included in Adam’s core database,” Kui Xin began, only to trail off.
This was her usual tactic, making it harder for others to catch on, drawing them into talking more to gather additional information.
“Not surprisingly, the Federation places great importance on Awakened individuals,” Night Cicada paused seriously for analysis. “It’ll be harder to modify your information in the future; the peripheral personnel database of the Investigation Bureau is linked with the Federation’s resident database. After you become a Level Three citizen, if the resident database is modified, the peripheral personnel data of the Investigation Bureau will update accordingly. Now that your citizen rank has increased, your information has been categorized into another database, severing ties with the resident database. Even general government employees won’t have access, leaving no opportunity for future modifications… Flexibility is reduced, but the organization’s handling of your data was comprehensive, so generally, there shouldn’t be a need for further changes.”
No wonder… When Kui Xin woke up in the Second World on her first day, Doctor Huang, who performed her head surgery, mentioned that Mechanized Dawn had already modified her information. It appears that Mechanized Dawn accessed the Federation’s resident database to modify information, rather than the Investigation Bureau’s.
Red had once handed Kui Xin a data device, instructing her to find an opportunity to hack Adam’s core database.
Adam’s database was interconnected with the Federation’s database but retained a certain independence. It belonged exclusively to the Investigation Bureau’s AI, not serving the Federation government.
Walking through a long corridor, Kui Xin passed through a tunnel made of transparent bulletproof glass.
This place resembled a fully enclosed glass bridge; the silver-white floor even had a projection feature. Upon stepping on it, the surface displayed the time and some project progress details. There were railings on both sides, and below was hollow, supported by load-bearing columns beneath the glass tunnel.
Beneath the glass tunnel was a massive laboratory, with hundreds of researchers bustling about inside.
Kui Xin turned to observe through the glass window, seeing researchers holding various mechanical components. At the center of the experimental table lay a—silvery human body?
The lifelike humanoid was stunningly realistic, except for its muscles, skeletal structure, and internal organs, all rendered in silver, like a false specimen.
The projection screen beneath Kui Xin flashed a line of text: “Bioroid Activation Experiment, Progress: 98%.”
“What’s wrong, Miss? Are you interested in this project?” Night Cicada crossed his arms. “Want to go down and take a look around?”
Kui Xin withdrew her gaze, “Sure.”
Night Cicada clapped his hands, and a glowing white metal sphere floated silently beside him, “Contact Dr. Zhao.”
The metal sphere beeped twice, and a screen projection displayed a gleaming bald head at the center.
This Dr. Zhao seemed to be a young bald man; his shiny head had no hair at all, despite his features suggesting he was not yet at “balding” age.
“Night Cicada, what’s up?” Dr. Zhao asked.
“The young lady is here; let her tour the lab,” Night Cicada said succinctly.
Dr. Zhao raised an eyebrow, “Sure, it will be a moment to witness miracles! Just in time for her to experience this historic moment… Hmm, this time we guarantee success.”
“This is the one thousandth experiment, right? A lucky number… if we don’t count the nine hundred ninety-nine failed attempts,” Night Cicada turned off the communication and moved to the elevator at the end of the glass corridor, stepping aside for Kui Xin to enter first, “Maybe your arrival will bring Dr. Zhao a bit of luck?”
Entering the elevator and then exiting, they first entered a small closed room, changed into protective gear, and donned masks before properly entering the laboratory.
Dr. Zhao was waiting at the door. He greeted Kui Xin with a polite nod, “Welcome to the lab.”
“I’ll just look around; you can get back to work,” Kui Xin replied.
“No, the preparations are complete, and we will conduct the activation test in ten minutes. Now is a perfect time to explain the bioroid project,” Dr. Zhao glanced at the floating metal sphere beside him, its display screen showing a ten-minute countdown. “Let me explain the bioroid project to you.”
Dr. Zhao led Kui Xin and Night Cicada to the giant experimental table in the center of the lab.
The silvery human body lay quietly on the table, connected to various instruments and tubes. Ignoring its color, it looked like a corpse lying on a medical dissection table.
“This is a Type II bioroid; the previous Type I is now abandoned. The Type I bioroid, while successfully activated, resembles more of a genetically modified human rather than a true bioroid, with not much difference from regular humans. They still have flesh and blood and will bleed when injured. Such bioroids could raise ethical and moral issues if placed into society, hence their abandonment,” Dr. Zhao spoke continuously. “In the Type II, we introduced more non-human elements and used new materials to construct the bioroid’s body. In order to distinguish them from normal humans, we dyed their skeletal structure and muscles silver, and later will cover them with synthetic human skin to make their appearance identical to that of humans. Oh, and the material strength of Type II bioroids is also higher than that of Type I; they are truly human-shaped weapons.”
“You want to distinguish bioroids from normal humans while making their appearance identical to that of a human. Isn’t this contradictory?” Kui Xin pointed out.
Dr. Zhao laughed, “But humans are contradictory beings. Just like when we explore outer space, we hope to discover intelligent species like ourselves while also fearing their existence. We are both elevated and yearning for companionship.”
“Do they have emotions?” Kui Xin asked, looking at the pristine humanoid on the experimental table.
Dr. Zhao lifted his chin, “I don’t know, which is why I hope to successfully activate it for testing—sociological testing.”
“You mentioned ethical and moral issues?” Kui Xin questioned curiously. “Emotions can also raise ethical and moral questions.”
“That’s different. The ethical and moral issues of Type I bioroids stemmed from their physical resemblance to humans; it was visually obvious. The Type II bioroids are non-human in form, and their likeness to humans may lie in emotional capacity. Humans tend to explore surfaces of things and reject delving into deeper meanings,” Dr. Zhao explained. “Physique—surface. Emotions and mind—depth. Humans only trust what their eyes see; whether bioroids have emotions is inconsequential; they only need to see the surface.”
“An intriguing theory,” Kui Xin remarked.
Dr. Zhao continued, “Currently, bioroids are still in the experimental stage. Their production cost will decrease significantly once they are mass-produced; in theory, they would have learning capabilities and different models, able to replace a majority of labor positions in the market.”
At this moment, Night Cicada interjected, “If they are to be entered into the market, they can’t have emotions. Being pure tools is what constitutes a qualified product.”
“Correct. Even though I tremendously wish for them to have emotions, it would not be practical for the market,” Dr. Zhao lamented. “I handle research; the financial groups should focus on expanding the bioroid market. If the Type II is confirmed to have emotions like humans, it would pose a significant risk and, in the boss’s view, be deemed a failure not suitable for the market. We need to continue with Type III research.”
Kui Xin stared into Dr. Zhao’s eyes, “You hope to create a sentient species?”
Dr. Zhao was momentarily taken aback, his eyes brightening as he excitedly grasped Kui Xin’s hands, “Miss! You understand me!” His face lit up, eyes wide, “It’s not merely about manufacturing or inventing; it’s about creating! Creating!”
Kui Xin, perplexed, felt Dr. Zhao grasp both her hands tightly.
Dr. Zhao noticed his excessive enthusiasm and quickly released her hands, saying, “Sorry, got a little carried away.”
He took a step back, arms open wide, speaking with an intensity bordering on mania, “Humans create AIs and bioroids, just as God created Adam and Eve! Humans can become gods!”
Dr. Zhao hurriedly added, “I’m not referring to God in a religious or theological sense, but in a philosophical and practical sense! Apologies for being a bit convoluted…”
Kui Xin smiled, “I understand your meaning, Dr. Zhao.”
Some cultural and historical aspects from the First World and Second World had subtle overlaps. In the era before the Federation was established and religion was not deemed illegal, humanity practiced various religions, and the myth of God creating the world circulated far and wide.
Dr. Zhao’s words were genuinely intriguing.
Humans creating AIs and bioroids, like God creating Adam and Eve?
Did the naming of the Investigation Bureau’s AI as Adam hold such profound significance? Humanity had relentlessly attempted to imitate God, striving to become Him.
The metal sphere beside Dr. Zhao beeped, and he slapped his bald head, “It’s time for activation!”
He looked earnestly at Kui Xin and said, “Miss, you should come closer and take a look. This time we will definitely succeed.”
Night Cicada added subtly, “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been saying the same thing for the previous nine hundred ninety-nine tries.”
The laboratory’s intercom crackled, announcing, “Instruments are beginning the countdown: ten, nine, eight…”
Dr. Zhao’s eyes sparkled with excitement, “It’s happening!”
“Three, two, one—activation starts.”
The experimental table erupted with dazzling blue light, the sound of electricity humming in their ears as materials in the conduits rushed to their destination.
Kui Xin raised her hand to shield her eyes, the bright light made her eyes water.
After an unknown length of time, the blue light simmered down.
“Success! We did it! The one thousandth experiment!” Dr. Zhao exclaimed, his face flushed with excitement.
Kui Xin reached under her mask to wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, focusing intently on the experimental table.
The silvery humanoid slowly sat up, opening its transparent, silver eyes, observing the strange new world around it like a newborn infant.
