Chapter 615: The Mechanical Dog Is a Good Dog

The sun’s light was gone; darkness enveloped the earth, followed by biting cold—the ground froze, a thin layer of ice covering all metal, as if in an instant this place had become a world of snow and ice.

A mechanical dog, its two electronic eyes scanning, crawled and paced around, leading Ye Nan and the two Terminators in small circles.

“It seems lost,” one Terminator said coldly from behind Ye Nan, watching the mechanical dog lead the way.

“I think it ran into some kind of mechanism,” replied the other Terminator.

“This mechanical dog is a good dog,” Ye Nan said with a solemn expression.

Hearing this, the mechanical dog shuddered instantly, its two metal lips opening and closing with a clicking sound: “I can’t find the way.”

“That’s exactly why I say you’re a good dog,” Ye Nan said casually.

Click!

The mechanical dog’s legs buckled; it collapsed onto the ground and whined, “I really can’t find the way.”

“I never said you couldn’t find the way,” Ye Nan said in surprise. “The path is right ahead.”

“I truly can’t find it,” the mechanical dog said, clearly catching Ye Nan’s implication; its words came out muffled as it whimpered.

“What’s ahead?” One Terminator stepped forward, passing the mechanical dog, then turned back. “Why can’t you find it?”

“How can you walk through walls?” the mechanical dog exclaimed in shock.

“?” Ye Nan frowned at the mechanical dog. “You really don’t know there’s no wall ahead?”

“Impossible!” the mechanical dog suddenly shouted. “That’s clearly a wall! There’s a wall right there—how can you walk through it?”

The Terminator said nothing, simply walked forward, proving with his own motion that no wall existed.

The mechanical dog’s shouting ceased instantly, leaving only its stunned gaze and low muttering.

“How can this be? There was clearly a wall. How could they walk through?”

Hearing this, Ye Nan’s brow furrowed. “Who told you there was a wall here?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” the mechanical dog replied.

“You saw it with your own eyes?” Ye Nan’s frown deepened. He instinctively felt the mechanical dog was lying—but such an obvious, meaningless lie seemed pointless.

“Could it be telling the truth?” Ye Nan glanced at the mechanical dog again, seeing its two electronic eyes gazing at him pitifully; his heart softened.

“Whether true or not, a test will settle it.” Ye Nan kicked out, striking the mechanical dog and sending it flying—its body traced a graceful arc before it landed face-first in a spectacular dog-plant.

“Whine…” The mechanical dog rose from the ground, whimpering. It approached Ye Nan, cautiously extending a paw to confirm the wall’s absence, then trotted to his feet, its metal tongue lolling. “I don’t know why the wall disappeared.”

“Did you see a wall?” Ye Nan suddenly asked.

From the mechanical dog’s behavior, the wall clearly didn’t exist—in its vision or in reality. Yet the mechanical dog swore on its circuits that it was there, making one wonder if its processor had malfunctioned.

“Maybe its brain really is broken,” Ye Nan thought.

Anyone with a functional mind wouldn’t tell such an obviously false lie—but this mechanical dog did. Whether it was hallucinating or lying outright, its brain was broken.

“Terminator, check if something strange is happening here,” Ye Nan called out.

“Yes.” The Terminator responded; countless instruments emerged from his body, scanning the area where the mechanical dog claimed the wall existed.

“No energy signature.”

“No radiation signature.”

“No hidden matter detected.”

“Air composition normal.”

“Temperature normal.”

From energy readings to ambient temperature, the Terminator scanned every parameter of the area—but found no anomaly whatsoever.

“This mechanical dog really is a good dog,” Ye Nan said sarcastically.

“I’m not lying—I really saw a wall!” the mechanical dog hurried to explain.

Seeing the mechanical dog still insisted it saw a wall, Chen Xu decided to expose it, to make it give up. “Compare this area’s data with other locations.”

The Terminator immediately stepped out, collecting external data and comparing it with the readings from the wall area.

“Energy comparison abnormal,” the Terminator announced, surprising Ye Nan. “Radiation comparison normal, air comparison normal, temperature comparison normal…”

After the Terminator’s series of comparisons, Ye Nan finally realized he’d wrongly accused the mechanical dog. “This mechanical dog really is a good dog.”

The mechanical dog, understanding Ye Nan’s meaning, instantly brightened up.

Seeing the mechanical dog’s joy, Ye Nan felt a pang of guilt—and vented it on the Terminator, ordering him to find the difference.

“Scan the energy. Extract its data and compare it with the database.”

“Yes.” The Terminator replied. Moments later, he handed Ye Nan the comparison results: “Energy comparison reveals a faint energy residue in the air. This energy interacts with other energies, causing self-concealment.”

Energy is not fixed—it drifts unpredictably. Sometimes, when it merges with other energies, it causes scanning errors. But this unconscious drift, undetectable on the first scan, becomes visible on the second—unless the Terminator is extremely unlucky, or the energy extremely fortunate, it can evade multiple scans.

Unfortunately, this energy was clearly unlucky—it was detected quickly.

“Analyzing energy characteristics…” A cold mechanical voice issued from the Terminator as streams of data flashed through his intelligent chip.

The Terminator, having undergone multiple upgrades, operated far more powerfully than before—but even so, analyzing this energy was still painfully slow.

“No matching data in database. Energy sample required for researchers,” the Terminator said blankly—clearly communicating with the mainframe. After a pause, he returned to normal: “Mainframe database contains no records. AI recommends retrieving the energy.”

A transparent rod extended from the Terminator’s mouth. Without visible motion, it rapidly turned blood-red.

“Energy collection complete. Transmitting energy. Loss: 13%… Click-click.”

The Terminator’s body suddenly stiffened; metal scraped against metal with a grating, teeth-chilling sound—as if his metal frame had aged and hardened in an instant.

Energy transmission is a newly developed technology, based on a special skill derived from the subspace network. It carves out dedicated channels within the subspace network to transfer specific energies—like sidewalks on a highway.

This technology consumes enormous energy, for precisely transmitting energy poses a severe challenge to the subspace network.

Such massive energy loss—even for a Terminator’s reserves—required 13% of its total.

“I need thirty-two days to absorb solar energy to replenish my power.”

Only after the energy transmission ended did the clicking cease. Though the Terminator appeared restored, Ye Nan knew behind its normal appearance lay massive energy depletion. Without internal power generation, relying solely on solar absorption, it would take at least thirty-two days to recover.

But there was no alternative. For the Terminator to generate energy internally, it required consuming vast amounts of matter—forcing collisions within its body to produce energy. This consumed materials, and in emergencies, replenishment was impossible.

Thus, in its programming, the Terminator used its core energy only during combat or when it judged imminent danger. Otherwise, it sustained itself by absorbing solar energy.

“I understand. The next battle will be handled by him,” Ye Nan said, pointing to the other Terminator.

Normally, even a detection-type Terminator must engage in combat—but considering its energy depletion, Ye Nan decided to assign combat duties to the other Terminator.

“Whine…” The mechanical dog lifted its head, tugging at Ye Nan’s sleeve, pulling him toward another direction—but its strength was too weak to make much effect.

“To that place?” Ye Nan asked thoughtfully.

“Whine…” The mechanical dog nodded repeatedly, as if affirming.

“You can speak. Why not?” Ye Nan eyed the mechanical dog suspiciously—his gaze clearly said: Tell the truth. Only truthful dogs are good dogs.

“Whine…” The mechanical dog tugged harder, yet refused to speak human words, only repeating its whines to express itself.

“Speak. I don’t play riddles,” Ye Nan remained unmoved.

Seeing Ye Nan still wouldn’t move, the mechanical dog tugged a few more times, then finally spoke plainly: “Over there, many companions—but the King dislikes outsiders.”

Woof! Woof! Woof!

Barks echoed from afar, accompanied by faint footsteps and intermittent whines. (To be continued.)