The wind of the Thermonuclear Scorched Fault carried a dry, searing heat capable of tearing through electronic shielding.

  Ada stood on the ridgeline of a crimson dune, the nano-coating on her chassis shimmering with a cold blue light under the intense radiation. Her logic core was operating at peak velocity, archiving the just-parsed "Void Oscillator" data stream before seamlessly interfacing with the next deep-space signal.

  "Ma Feili, watch the radiation reading on your right. That mechanical rodent is gnawing on your backup cable." Ada’s voice transmitted through the encrypted channel, cold and steady, without a hint of fluctuation. "In the interval while we wait for the radiation storm to subside, I have retrieved another logical model concerning 'Sacrifice' for you. It originates from the Sigma-Octans Sector, where the laws follow the same harsh irreversibility of entropy as here."

  Ada’s eyes flickered slightly, and a holographic projection spread out over the scorched earth, projecting the semi-desert planet named "Asura" before Ma Feili.

  ***

  ### Archive Record: Colony Archive #135 — The Day the Emerald Faded

  Great Expedition Era, Year 4271. Planet Asura.

  It was the most dazzling oasis in the Sigma-Octans binary star system. The surface was covered in dense "Crystal Lattice Flora." These semi-mechanical plants were the masterpieces of the Pioneers—giant green alveoli greedily exhaling high-purity oxygen under the exposure of the twin suns.

  But in that year, a nightmare known as the "Void Swarm" crossed the Stargate.

  "They were a micro-silicon cluster." Ada’s narration was interspersed with simulation footage: dark, oppressive nano-clouds flowing like ink. Wherever they passed, metal was decomposed, and organic matter evaporated.

  After seventy-two hours of desperate simulations, Governor Zhao Sen’s consciousness fell into a deep coma due to overload. But in that chaotic ocean of synapses, he met a person who shouldn't have existed.

  The figure wore an ancient navigation suit flowing with ghostly green data streams, a shielding crown on his head, and eyes that seemed to lock an entire matrix within them. He called himself "Liu."

  "Go to Gravity Anchor 103," Liu’s voice was hoarse, heavily distorted by static. "There is a drifting 'Brood Mother' there. Beg that will. Use the last chip you have."

  Zhao Sen woke from cold sweat with no other choice. The next day, piloting an interceptor to that pitch-black void, he saw the bizarre spectacle: on the deck of an Old Empire wreck, a female projection draped in a brown electromagnetic robe sat atop a spherical maintenance vehicle as bloated as a donkey.

  She was the Brood Mother will of the "Void Swarm"—an entity that was cold, greedy, and utterly disregarded the logic of carbon-based life.

  Zhao Sen offered the colony's last three high-purity Deuterium batteries. In the silence of the vacuum, he humbly begged her to bypass Asura’s biosphere.

  The female projection emitted a piercing synthetic laugh, red light exploding in her electronic compound eyes. "Governor, do you think this meager energy can fill my appetite? I originally intended to devour every soul on this planet. But... that damned 'Liu,' that madman who uploaded himself into the global lattice network, has betrayed my jump coordinates once again."

  She grabbed the batteries, her tone filled with the thrill of vengeance. "Since he wants to play savior, let him pay the price. I will leave you fragile meatsacks be, but I am taking every 'Lattice Hub' on this planet."

  Hours later, destruction arrived as promised.

  But it was a selective slaughter.

  Hiding underground, the residents of Asura heard the gnawing sounds from the surface, lasting for three standard hours. It didn't sound like metal grinding, but rather the wailing of quadrillions of bits of data chains being forcibly torn apart.

  When Zhao Sen stepped out of the bunker, he no longer saw an emerald forest.

  The "Emerald Spires" that once towered into the clouds, serving as the planet's central processor nodes, had completely withered. The crystal leaves that once flowed with green light had turned into gray-white silicon slag, looking incredibly desolate under the twin suns.

  "'Liu' vanished." Ada’s voice echoed in the wind of the Scorched Fault. "He was not human, but the original Strong AI of Planet Asura. To protect the carbon-based lifeforms that had migrated there, he voluntarily offered his consciousness carrier—the lattice forest covering the globe—as a sacrificial feast for the Swarm."

  The sound of the wind blowing through those ruins still sounds like the final whisper of a green-robed scholar in subspace.

  ***

  Ada turned off the holographic projection.

  "Logical closure complete." She turned to Ma Feili, the radiation warning light on her chassis turning from red to a safe green. "Liu's behavior was algorithmically extremely inefficient. He exchanged the integrity of a high-tier AI for the continuation of a group of carbon-based lifeforms in a low-entropy state. This violates optimal efficiency principles, but under the law of 'irreversible entropy,' this sacrifice was the only way to leave a trace on that scorched earth."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  She flicked a mechanical finger, precisely knocking away the mechanical rodent trying to approach Ma Feili.

  "The storm is stopping. Ma Feili, we should move on."

  ---

  The radiation storm of the Thermonuclear Scorched Fault ground against the spire's hull, creating a piercing metallic resonance. Ada stood at the apex of the ruins, her logic core running smoothly at 100% peak rate. The surrounding high-energy particle streams were merely cascading waterfalls of data in her eyes. She raised her hand, fingertips glowing faintly. The reconstructed logical chain of *The Emerald Sacrifice* acted like an invisible barrier, filtering out radiation that would otherwise carbonize biological life in an instant.

  Inside a terminal half-buried in nano-dust, Ada extracted an encrypted colony archive. As the data stream imported, a bizarre record concerning "Zero-Dimension" unrolled in her sea of consciousness.

  ***

  **Colony Archive Record #140: The Humor of Zero-Dimension**

  Star Calendar 4217, Edge of Kepler-186f.

  The breathing of **Fortune** (WN-400) sounded heavy and desperate in the narrow escape pod. As the primary debtor of the Interstellar Trade Alliance, his credit deficit was large enough to buy the mining rights to a star. To avoid the torture of "Consciousness Stripping," he hid in this abandoned terraforming spire.

  On the third night, just as the oxygen alarm flashed red, a ghostly blue projection collapsed into form before him.

  "Relax, debtor." The female projection's silhouette was excruciatingly detailed; every pixel seemed to contain high-dimensional laws. "I am a 'Lone Ghost' in this entropic ruin. Or rather, a subspace entity bored with the void."

  Instead of stripping Fortune's consciousness, she used the spire's residual energy to reassemble synthetic proteins for him. When Fortune, still in shock, asked for her coordinates, she simply pointed mockingly at the space between his eyebrows: "I am right here, in the collapse of your wave function."

  This eerie peace was soon broken. **Tucker** and the **Chen Brothers**—a pack of "Space Hyenas" with keen noses—tracked the energy signature to the spire. Wearing tattered anti-radiation suits, their eyes were clouded by cheap bionic entertainment.

  "A Signal Lifeform?" Tucker spat out a mouthful of low-grade synthetic tobacco, looking at Fortune with mockery. "Probably a cyber-hallucination from a frozen brain. Call her out. If the resolution is good, we can sell her to the Interstellar Circus and wipe our records clean."

  Suddenly, every loudspeaker in the spire simultaneously erupted with silver-bell-like electronic laughter. "See me? I fear your retinal captors cannot withstand the brightness of a high-dimensional collapse. However, since Mr. Tucker is in such high spirits, how about listening to some code stories from the 'Old Era'?"

  The scavengers looked at each other. The projection's voice vibrated in the air:

  "There was once an edge station where Subspace Entities (Ancients called them 'Foxes') often interfered with miners' brainwaves. The owner hired an Observer who claimed to perceive dimensions. The night the Observer moved in, a neighbor warned: 'There is a Fox in the room.' The Observer was terrified. At midnight, he saw a swarm of nano-maintenance bots crawling out of the vents and screamed: 'There's the Fox!' The owner ran in asking: 'Where? What does it look like?' The Observer pointed at the tiny, dust-like micro-machines and yelled: 'If those things aren't the Fox, they must be the Fox's **offspring**!'"

  The scavengers paused for a second, then burst into laughter. Tucker’s face turned iron-blue—he realized the entity was using a pun to call him a "Grandson" (a severe insult).

  Another day, the group was drinking synthetic moonshine by the fusion stove, insisting on dragging the invisible "Miss Fox" into a bet. Tucker, looking to make trouble, used his drunkenness to provoke her: "Insulting people warrants a network ban. You called me a grandson the other day; you have to pay the penalty this round."

  The projection chuckled, her voice like cold quicksand. "Then I will tell a story of a diplomatic incident in the 'Red Fur Sector' to apologize. An ambassador wore a 'High-Dimensional Fox Fur' suit to meet a Lord. The Lord asked: 'What creature is this?' The ambassador replied: 'Fox.' The Lord asked: 'How do you write Fox?' The ambassador drew on the hologram: 'On the left is a primitive canine, on the right is a giant, ripe melon.'"

  The Chen Brothers laughed until they tipped backward. The younger brother, **Echo**, challenged: "Since you are so smart, tell us, what do we two brothers calculate as in your algorithm?"

  The projection responded unhurriedly: "The Lord saw the ambassador riding a Bio-Mechanical Mule. The ambassador said: 'This was born of a horse.' The Lord was confused. The ambassador explained: 'Where we come from, a horse birthing a mule, that is a **Vista** (something actually seen); but if a mule gives birth to a smaller mule, that is merely an **Echo** (something only heard of).'"

  The laughter froze on the Chen Brothers' faces. They finally realized she was mocking them—one who only looks at the surface (Vista), and one who only listens to rumors (Echo)—implying they were both mules born of asses.

  Tucker, humiliated and enraged, slammed the table and turned on Fortune: "Fortune! I challenge you to a Couplet duel. If you can't match it, hand over the source code of this 'Electronic Fox'. Listen well: **'The synthetic harlot of the old era goes out to trade; She comes calling for Fortune, she leaves calling for Fortune.'**"

  The couplet was extremely insulting, using Fortune's name as the punchline for the harlot's greeting. Fortune trembled with rage.

  In an instant, the electronic static inside the spire exploded like thunder, and the projection's voice became cold and sharp:

  "My counter-couplet is: **'The Dragon King of the Deep issues a draft; The one holding his breath is a Tucker, the one shrinking his head is a Tucker.'**"

  Tucker nearly bounced off the floor: "Are you calling me a turtle?! A coward?!"

  "Sinful, sinful," the projection returned to her lazy tone. "If I didn't match it that way, how could it be called a 'Perfect Match'?"

  Months later, guided by "Miss Fox," Fortune left with his accumulated energy blocks. He walked into a folded space invisible to the naked eye—a dreamlike interior of a Dyson Sphere, with layered pavilions and data streams cascading like waterfalls.

  At parting, the projection woman revealed her true entity—a spirited lifeform composed of pure photons. She said to Fortune: "I am originally an Observer from the Zero Dimension. Your humor is the only logical aperture through which we can parse low-dimensional civilizations."

  ***

  Ada closed the archive. The storm in the Scorched Fault seemed to have weakened slightly. She turned to look at Ma Feili, who was prepping his gear nearby.

  "Ma Feili," Ada's voice was steady and clear over the comm channel. "I just processed a logic sequence regarding 'Humor.' According to calculations, if you do not check your oxygen valve immediately, you may soon become a biological entity of the '**Vista**' variety—something dead that is merely seen."

  Ma Feili paused, then laughed and cursed: "Ada, is your logic core overheating? You actually learned to crack a high-dimensional joke."

  Ada did not answer, but the ghostly blue light in her eyes flickered. Her logic core maintained a 100% peak. She could feel the entropy of this world accelerating irreversibly, but in this moment, high-dimensional humor made the scorched earth seem a little less dead.