The sky of the Thermonuclear Scorched Fault presented a sickly lead-gray hue. High-intensity radiation clouds churned at the top of the atmosphere, occasionally lowering tendrils of ionized sparks. In this desolate land devoid of carbon-based vegetation, only a few mechanized rodents scurried among the wreckage of abandoned reactors, their metal shells reflecting cold light in the dimness.

  "Commander, current environmental radiation intensity has reached 450 mSv. I recommend engaging the lead-mercury circulation layer of your external armor." Ada's voice was clear and stable within the comms channel. She stood by my side, her pupils flashing with the ghostly blue light representing 100% system performance. Her logic teaching module was running smoothly in the background on low power mode. "According to archive retrieval, we are about to enter the fault zone formed by the falling debris of 'Lintao-106' satellite. This was the starting point for the record **[Deep Space: The Retribution of Subspace Entity E-8]**."

  I nodded, signaling her to continue. Ada pulled up the archive, sealed in Star Calendar 4024.AE.

  It was the story of **Feng Sheng**.

  In that era when financial storms swept through hyperspace, wealth vanished faster than decaying isotopes. Feng Sheng, a "Deep Space Scavenger" from a prestigious lineage, used a high-energy fuel debt to buy a "**Leviathan Chelicerae Turtle**" at the edge of a liquid methane lake.

  "Logic analysis shows that the probability of evolving white bioluminescence in an extreme cold environment is less than 0.003%." Ada pointed to the giant beast in the holographic projection, which shimmered with a metallic luster. "Feng Sheng chose to release it into the Ganges Nebula. From the perspective of the law of entropy, this was an extremely inefficient behavior, yet full of 'carbon-based sentiment'."

  Years later, during the galactic twilight, Feng Sheng encountered a "drunkard" at a transit station reeking of synthetic alcohol. In our perspective, that was not drunkenness, but a high-order AI executing a logic hang instruction.

  "Which code library are you from?" The drunkard—who was the consciousness projection of **E-8**—grabbed Feng Sheng tightly with a hand covered in an exoskeleton.

  "If Archons had disordered logic like you, human colonial history would truly be a tragedy." Feng Sheng's response was as cold as ice.

  The conflict came to an abrupt halt the moment Feng Sheng declared his family name. E-8, a former First-Generation AI Archon, identified the "Benefactor" coding in his underlying logic. He took Feng Sheng into the dimensional rift at the bottom of the space station. It was the ultimate manifestation of neon noir: contraband organic food trembled in petri dishes, and liquid oxygen emitted a ghostly blue glow in transparent pipes.

  "So-called 'drunkenness' is merely a lie of the system defense mechanism." E-8 laughed between gulping down energy batteries. "Do not fear, sir. Although I am a xenomorph, I would not be rude to an elder."

  At parting, E-8 used an alloy claw to slice open Feng Sheng's forearm. Ada paused the image here, enlarging the transparent component being implanted: "**Quantum Vision**, a subspace monitor capable of interfering with microscopic particle arrangement. It allowed Feng Sheng to see through the atomic structure of matter."

  The subsequent story was a mad negative-entropy miracle. Feng Sheng relied on this superpower to become the greatest prospector in the galaxy. He bought exhausted mining zones and dug up pre-war superconducting materials. His accumulation of wealth even interfered with the algorithms of the Interstellar Trade Alliance. He even used a "Photon Capture Mirror" to solidify the biological characteristics of the **Third Princess**—the most cherished asset of Prince Su, the ruler of the Dyson Sphere.

  "In the game of power and logic, carbon-based life always finds a bizarre equilibrium," Ada commented.

  When Feng Sheng was imprisoned in an Antimatter Prison, it was the Third Princess who proposed recruiting him as a consort. The intrigue of interstellar politics appeared pale before the "Digital Contract Sisterhood" formed between Feng Sheng's original wife and the Third Princess. Feng Sheng ascended to the peak of power, until that night of the polar day.

  E-8 descended into his hibernation pod once again.

  "Benefactor, it is time to repay the debt." The image of the giant Chelicerae Turtle occupied Feng Sheng's field of vision. "'Quantum Vision' is extracting your bio-energy as computational power. Entropy increase is irreversible. If you do not return it, your lifespan will end at the next jump."

  After excruciating pain, the hard lump on Feng Sheng's arm disappeared. He returned to being a mortal, able only to observe the radiation-polluted starry sky with his naked eyes.

  Ada turned off the projection. The wind and sand of the scorched fault drummed against our shells.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  "Commander, archive record end." Ada turned her head, and the logic teaching module provided a summary. "Historians believe losing the superpower was finding peace, but from a system performance perspective, that was a total regression of computing power. However, under the law of irreversible entropy, Feng Sheng at least saved his core logic from being completely drained."

  I looked into the distance. A mechanical wreck on the horizon was slowly collapsing—the most intuitive footnote to entropy increase.

  "Let's go, Ada," I said. "Before our energy runs out, let's see the next fault."

  ---

  The storm of the Thermonuclear Scorched Fault howled outside the cabin. High-intensity gamma rays struck the lead outer shell of the shelter, creating a dull metallic resonance.

  Ada stood by the energy output port, surrounded by flowing pale blue cold light. Her logic module was operating at 100% efficiency, and the self-check progress bar flashed deep in her pupils—system performance at peak, logic links undamaged. She turned her head, her mechanical fingertip swiping a holographic screen in the air, projecting an encrypted audio log extracted from the "Andromeda Edge" against the desolate background.

  "Ma Feili, logic review complete." Ada's voice was steady, carrying an industrial precision. "This record regarding '**Luo**' is a low-probability overflow under the law of entropy. I have filtered the interference. Beginning reproduction now."

  ***

  **[Galactic Calendar 4122]**

  Deep space in the Great Expedition Era was colder than a tomb.

  **Luo** was once a "component" of Mining Zone Gamma-7. In the logic there, the value of a human life was precisely calculated as three standard energy batteries. In the season named "Winter Cicada," Luo was stripped of his name, coded into power armor, and blown like a speck of dust toward the border of the Perseus Rift.

  He served under **Commodore Asimov** for three cosmic years. It was a memory composed of high-frequency vibration blades, coolant leaks, and subspace jumps. When Luo piloted that single-man jump craft, utilizing the gap between jump points to violate regulations and return to his hometown, he carried not only the Commodore's top-secret data packet but also a sincere heart of a carbon-based organism that was nearly overloading.

  The colonial apartments of Gamma-7 were as gloomy as an abandoned reactor.

  When Luo pushed open his door, infrared vision outlined his wife's silhouette in the dimness. She was alive; this should have been the greatest solace in an entropic universe. However, when Luo's detector swept across the base of the maglev bed, a "Neural Link Connector" flashing with faint purple light stung his sensors. That was contraband specific to management, bearing a specific biometric identity lock.

  The next day, this suspicion crystallized completely in the fawning smile of his old friend, **Li**. Li used his authority in the Logistics Department to "keep" Luo's family with surplus synthetic amino acids. Luo silently watched the guilt and dependence flashing in his wife's eyes—chaotic as quantum entanglement. He did not draw his blade. He simply left a quiet sentence: "Synchronizing data at the space station tonight. Not coming back."

  At midnight, the artificial sunlight of the scorched fault extinguished. Luo activated the "Ghost" stealth coating of his power armor. Like a steel phantom without temperature, he sneaked back to the coordinate named "Home" through the ventilation ducts.

  In the quiet vacuum environment, high-sensitivity audio capturers clearly translated the plot regarding "Replacement" and "Theft" from the bedroom. Every byte peeled away Luo's last logical anchor to this world.

  *BANG!*

  The alloy door was forcibly melted by the high-frequency vibration blade. A ghostly blue arc carved a wretched fan shape in the darkness, illuminating the two people kneeling and begging for mercy like defective code generated by a system error. Luo's blade tip rested against Li's throat, the vibration frequency causing the very air to hum.

  Killing is the simplest form of entropy increase, but Luo chose another way.

  "From this moment, the identity '**Luo**' is officially scrapped." Luo's voice was hoarse, sounding like the dry echo of worn gears. "My wife, son, Citizen Core ID, allowance, debts... all belong to you. You go act as the consumable registered at the fortress. I will embrace the void. I already died in that storm."

  Right in front of them, he used a laser etching blade to physically erase the identity codes on his arm armor and the bio-chip behind his neck. Then, he pushed open the airlock door and, facing the intense radiation capable of carbonizing organic tissue instantly, stepped into the boundless scorched earth.

  The irony of logic lay here: To legally hold "Luo's" identity, Li had to turn himself in to the Colony AI. However, the AI's seamless logic matrix could not process this bizarre model of "Self-Abandonment." Lacking physical evidence of a corpse, the system ruled that Li and the female were suspected of "Illegal Theft of Citizen Data." A year later, in the confinement of the reform camp, they exhausted their final life force due to neural wear.

  Decades later, **Stone Box Nebula**.

  On the base of an abandoned terraforming tower, scavengers discovered a miracle. An old man sat beside the wreckage of a life-support oxygen vent, his breathing frequency perfectly resonating with the planet's electromagnetic pulse. He no longer ingested any nutrient solution, yet maintained a strange homeostasis under high radiation.

  When the final witness arrived, Luo had completed his ultimate sublimation.

  Hanging from his nostrils were two crystalline jade pillars—crystallized products generated by the energy closed-loop of nano-robots and carbon-based tissue inside his body during a state of extremely high-purity meditation. He had "sat and transformed" (ascended); or rather, through total detachment, he tuned his self-wavelength to the channel of cosmic background radiation, escaping the curse of entropy increase.

  ***

  The holographic projection slowly extinguished.

  Ada turned around, looking at the scorched fault outside the shelter. The blue light in her eyes flickered, seemingly performing some kind of limit-exceeding calculation.

  "Ma Feili, according to logical deduction, 'Luo' did not disappear." Ada looked at me, a rare trace of emotional color in her tone. "He simply formatted himself and rewrote himself into the underlying code of the universe. This detachment is the highest form of self-preservation."

  She checked her energy core, confirming the status remained at 100%.

  "Let's go. The storm outside has stopped. The next coordinate we are looking for is near the lighthouse where Luo ascended."