Chapter 48

Chapter 48: The Sea Without Light Part 48

Kui Xin finally sent Night Cicada away, and she sat down on the desk, rubbing her temples.

Mechanized Dawn, Kui Haidong, bioroids, and Rick Technology Corporation.

Judging from her one-hour visit, Rick Technology Corporation was nothing more than a front company created by the Mechanized Dawn. They were essentially one and the same. She had seen the company’s logo multiple times during her visit, and similar markings could be found on some materials.

Kui Xin had previously searched online for information about Rick Technology Corporation and learned that it was a new company that had risen to prominence over the past two decades.

In the First World, a company that lasted twenty years could be considered a solid and large entity; however, in the Second World, Kui Xin broadened her horizons and gradually realized that even holding out for twenty years in this world dominated by conglomerates only made a company like hers a “little kid” compared to many older ones.

Each regional conglomerate stood for at least half a century, becoming undisputed local bosses and overlords, often teaming up with other conglomerates and companies to monopolize local manufacturing, services, catering, healthcare, technology, and more, suppressing new companies through acquisition and investment.

Over time, new companies struggled to break through, while these conglomerates grew stronger under the protection of the Federation by exploiting ordinary people and emerging enterprises, evolving into immovable giants.

For Rick Technology Corporation to survive surrounded by financial powers and thrive into its current formidable position was almost inconceivable.

Kui Xin observed that the corporation operated very discreetly. Apart from product launch events, there were hardly any news reports online. Its CEO—Kui Haidong—was hidden behind the scenes and rarely ever made a public appearance. In an era where media was rampant, no journalist could get an interview with him.

This behavior starkly contrasted with her “Unworthy Father” from the First World.

Kui Xin vividly remembered that when the “Unworthy Father” achieved success and returned home in style, he bought a grand and impressive car months in advance, driving it back to his hometown, causing excitement among villagers along the way.

Her mother told her that displaying wealth invited envy.

But the “Unworthy Father” gloated, “I want them to see how much money I’ve earned; this car would take them three to five lifetimes to own!”

He was proud and loved to show off.

The “Unworthy Father” of the First World and the Second World were eerily alike—same looks, mannerisms, and behavior—and so, she instinctively compared them, searching for similarities and differences.

Her unease intensified.

“Is he putting on an act?” Kui Xin wondered bewilderedly. “Is he hiding himself…Why does he hide himself? Is it due to caution or…”

She planted seeds of doubt, which she couldn’t shake off, fueled by a strong intuition and an inexplicable sense of dissonance.

“Perhaps he’s being guided?” Kui Xin shivered.

The “Unworthy Father” became powerful but remained grounded; not only did he avoid arrogance, he steadily developed the company, kept a low profile, and secretly built a formidable force within the shadows, elevating Mechanized Dawn to a secret and tightly knit organization.

Did he possess that kind of talent?

If not, how did he manage all that?

Could someone be guiding him? Driving him towards some purpose?

Mechanized Dawn was an enigma—like an unfathomable deep pool, placid on the surface but concealing depths that revealed truths far deeper.

Kui Xin’s journey to the headquarters of Mechanized Dawn raised two questions.

One was the mystery of Kui Haidong.

The second question was—or Kui Xin’s identity.

There exist three versions of Kui Xin in the world:

Number One Kui Xin is the daughter of Kui Haidong and a core member of the Mechanized Dawn, having been carefully cultivated as an undercover operative.

Number Two Kui Xin is a student at Black Sea Academy who joined the Investigation Bureau through the internal recruitment as an intern.

Number Three Kui Xin is herself—an unlucky player from the First World struggling near the poverty line; soon she will be attending university.

All three share the same face, although they have different backgrounds and family statuses. Numbers One and Three have fathers named Kui Haidong. In theory, they are identical entities across different dimensions.

But what about Number Two? She has a complete growth trajectory, has had numerous interactions with colleagues at the Bureau who still remember her. Yet, Number One entered the Bureau without undergoing cosmetic surgery and used her true identity—the daughter of Kui Haidong. So why are Numbers Two and One identical?!

Number Two’s identity must involve some mystery. It might even be false—an elaborate scheme orchestrated by the Mechanized Dawn. However, Number Two’s existence seems genuine—the records of her life in Black Sea Academy, the Investigation Bureau, and Port Zone, Peaceful Street are real.

This was a horror thriller story, featuring three Kui Xins existing simultaneously in the Second World.

Number One replaced Number Two, and then Number Three ended up replacing Number One.

After a series of cleansings, power struggles, and inexplicable transformations, the world ended up with only Number Three, Kui Xin from the First World!

Kui Xin felt a chill.

She suddenly felt like she had entered a dark road, moving blindly ahead without knowing where the darkness harbored a hidden eye watching her silently. That observer’s icy gaze followed her progress, waiting for her to reach the end and fall into a trap.

…

“Haha, day shifts are better, so comfortable!” Lan Lan stretched.

Shu Xueyao took a sip of coffee and looked down to organize files. “Without sun exposure, surely more comfortable.”

Members of the Marine Security Team who engaged in field duties didn’t execute patrol duties every day. Patrolling was exhausting and could break the body if done night and day, so the team implemented shifts, like white day, night shifts, and留守班留守班 is incorrectly translated, it should be ‘duty shifts’. To correct: white day, night shifts, and standby shifts. When the squad was on duty shift, they just handled routine documentation and training in the security room.

Today was a sit-shift day for the Seventh Squad. They waited around for occasional alerts to report patrols. This laid-back environment felt unusual.

“Salaries for tea, feels strange,” Liu Kangyun twisted his shoulders uncomfortably.

Jiang Ming suggested, “If you’re bored, join Kui Xin down in the firing range. She seemed lonely.”

“Why not? Wanna come with me?” Liu Kangyun asked.

“I already completed my daily mileage quota this morning—a ten-kilometer run,” Jiang Ming replied.

“Alright.” Liu Kangyun patted his head and headed downstairs.

Lan Lan went to the window, watching Kui Xin in the outdoor training area, perspire heavily as she practiced gunplay.

“She’s still going at it, doesn’t seem bothered by the heat,” Lan Lan remarked, amazed by Kui Xin’s stamina.

“Maybe that’s the gap between us—while you relax, others work hard,” Jiang Ming said. “I bet Kui Xin will excel in our year-end shooting competition.”

“I wasn’t slacking either; I did physical fitness this morning, but stayed put because I’m helping the captain arrange documents,” Lan Lan explained. “But yeah, I agree—Kui Xin probably ranks top five in shooting.”

Lan Lan hadn’t witnessed Kui Xin’s combat skills directly because the perpetrator never got close enough after getting taken out with shots to the head or body.

During these days at the port handling various disputes, Shi Xueyao and others noted Kui Xin’s straightforward approach. If a suspect entered a five-meter radius around her, she would issue a warning by drawing her weapon. If ignored and the person came within three meters, she took action.

Oddly, Kui Xin had a peculiar habit—aiming for the left or right eye when shooting. Two days ago, a port robber fleeing after committing murder faced her directly and was shot in the head, aiming for the left eye. Yesterday, a wanted gang member encountered the same fate, struck in the right eye.

Lan Lan asked Kui Xin about her aim, to which Kui Xin replied with an uncertain shrug, suggesting it might be an obsessive-compulsive quirk.

“Probably OCD,” Lan Lan frowned, unsure what kind of OCD this was.

In truth, Kui Xin’s sensitivity arose from past experiences, fearing her opponents might have hidden defenses, leading to last-minute counterattacks. Thus, aiming for both eyes ensured a kill shot.

She valued her life.

An hour later, Kui Xin finished her shooting practice and returned to the office with Liu Kangyun.

As they ascended the stairs, Shi Xueyao received an email from headquarters.

Augus warned, “Captain Shu Xueyao, Team Leader Wei Zhi has sent a task notification letter. Please timely view the content and inform the Seventh Squad members.”

“I understand,” Shi Xueyao responded and opened the email.

Jiang Ming turned around and asked, “What task?”

“We didn’t receive extra tasks while working in the Marine Security Team frequently. Is there something urgent?” Lan Lan pondered.

“Don’t rush, I’m reading it now,” Shi Xueyao began.

Kui Xin and Liu Kangyun returned just as he began reading.

Soon, the office door opened.

“Amazing,” Liu Kangyun mumbled upon entering. “That’s talent, a marksman!”

Kui Xin uncapped a bottle of electrolyte water and drank slowly. “You flatter me… No incidents today? It’s been nearly a whole day since our last callout.”

“There’ve been minor disturbances that patrols handled,” Shi Xueyao said, tilting his head up to look at Kui Xin’s flushed face, likely from the sun. “Sit and rest. We have a new assignment.”

Kui Xin raised an eyebrow. “I thought things would continue smoothly.”

“Patrols and dispute-resolution keep us busy enough. How can we add more dramatics?” Lan Lan sighed, “As few incidents as possible are best. Didn’t you say, ‘Great, it’s another peaceful day,’ recently?”

“A little reflection,” Kui Xin sat down. “Captain, tell us the mission.”

It was August 6th.

Day four since returning to the Second World, and also the day the explosion device at the harbor was set and ready for detonation.

Theoretically, the blast should happen tonight or tomorrow night—it can’t be too early nor too late. An earlier blast could give docking port a chance to repair, allowing for mooring; delaying it too much leaves no time for handling potential failures.

The explosive mission of the Mechanized Dawn entered its critical phase, with success hanging in the balance.

Shi Xueyao waved, and the projected screen lit up in front of him as he briefed the Seventh Squad on their mission.

“Our mission is maritime escort,” Shi Xueyao announced. “The transport vessel, the Kraken, is expected to dock in Blacksea City within a week and its captain reported frequent harassment by pirates and lawbreakers. They seek assistance from the Blacksea City Investigation Bureau, requesting support from the Marine Security Team.”

Kui Xin frowned, sensing an ominous premonition.

“Do we need to board the ship?” Kui Xin asked, “Perform an escort mission aboard the Kraken?”

“Yes, the mission description states so,” Shi Xueyao responded. “We’ll be accompanied by four other squads and several Awakened. The mission urgency dictates a departure tonight. We’ll use helicopters to board the Kraken and carry out guard duties, coordinating with escort vessels.”