Chapter 636

Whether judged by appearance, strength, personality, or racial stance, there are not many viewers in the entire universe who could like "Red."

When most people thought he was going to use his old tricks again and kill Adam directly at Site-41, they didn't expect Adam to kill him with a single shot.

"Help, help, help... is that it?"

"I got up, one shot, and you're dead; how am I supposed to play?"

"I thought you were invincible, that the gunshot wound was just a badge of honor, something that looked like a wound in form but was actually nothing, but I didn't expect you to actually die?"

"Good riddance! Good riddance!"

"Finally dead, but why didn't the spider monsters help him this time? Those spiders went on a killing spree last time; does he have a habit of dueling? No, wait, Ulrich was sneak-attacked and killed by him..."

"Don't get it, maybe he got cocky."

"..."

Watching "Red" fall with one shot, Miss Miss Tingyun and Seeing Seeing Yanqing were speechless for a moment, and even Diviner Fu couldn't keep her composure.

"Forget it, consider it my misjudgment, mistaking a clown for an enemy general. To have bluffed and stirred up trouble for so long without anyone exposing him, he can be considered a talent."

March 7th suddenly remembered a detail:

"'Red's' first appearance, the agent's firing command was Zaelochianaeora, and the firing command Adam gave was Aelonizaenora."

"So... the reason for the misfire was simply saying it wrong?"

"Stelle" nodded, her face full of regret:

"If he had said it correctly, the story in this containment file might not have played out."

After speaking, she saw Bai Bai Xuan shake his head:

"That wouldn't be the case. The arrival of 3125 is inevitable; the appearance of a human traitor at most caused this inevitable event to happen earlier."

Before the others could ask, Bai Bai Xuan continued:

"In ancient times, it had already wiped out a civilization. Since then, the arrival of 3125 was just a matter of time. The Foundation might be able to delay this point in time, but it cannot prevent this event from happening."

"...Unless everything went according to plan, and Dr. Hughes, even after becoming another creature, successfully created an anti-memetic weapon."

"That seems difficult," Miss Miss Tingyun interjected.

Or rather, impossible.

After Luofu Luofu Xianzhou citizens fall into the mara-struck state, even if they are saved by the Ten-Lords Commission and return to the world of the living, very few can maintain their previous temperament and memories.

Let alone changing bodies and changing species.

Even if they luckily inherited their memories, how long could they maintain human thinking?

A more likely scenario is that this consciousness belonging to Dr. Hughes would be gradually influenced by the biological instincts of the bud, eventually becoming chaotic.

Perhaps one day in the future, the bud will possess complete thinking ability; it will regain this memory and thinking, but it will already be another individual completely unrelated to Dr. Hughes.

Just like Miss Miss Tingyun at this moment, and the Miss Miss Tingyun controlled by Phantylia; although they have a shared memory, they are two completely different individuals.

Miss Miss Tingyun is confident that if she hadn't been controlled by Phantylia when she met her benefactor, she would already be dragging her benefactor along to prepare daily necessities for little Miss Miss Tingyun in Exalting Sanctum.

Of course, there's also big Miss Miss Tingyun's.

The kind that happens once a day, and once a day.

In the unchanging orange-red light, Adam put away his pistol, shifted his attention away from the charred humanoid outline, and turned back to his next task.

When he gave the order just now, he also had a small fantasy in his heart, such as that this guy in front of him was the mastermind, and as long as he killed him with the orbital laser, the world could instantly return to its original state.

The annoying whispers would disappear, the day-night cycle would be restored, all the dead would be resurrected, and his severed fingers would be as good as new.

Turns out that still doesn't work...

That man could be easily killed by him only because he was still human, not one of those non-human entities far more powerful than humans.

He was neither 3125 itself nor the anomalous legion enslaved by 3125.

In the end, he was just an anti-human, anti-social degenerate... a spiritual successor to the "Lost Generation"?

Perhaps he had just spent too much time with those monsters and had become tainted with the same aura, which is why they regarded him as one of their own.

But how did this guy think of himself as an accomplice to those monsters?

However, what exactly were those giant objects that looked like spider legs?

They seemed to have just come to watch the show.

Adam tightened his grip on the pistol hidden in his shoulder holster, feeling a bit puzzled.

But in the next moment, he suddenly understood.

In the eyes of those true "anomalies," both of them were tainted with the aura of their kind, so they were "one of us."

Since "one of us" had resolved the conflict, they had no reason to stay here any longer and continued to fulfill their duties as loyal dogs.

Tsk... forget it, let's keep moving...

Adam muttered to himself silently, threw this small episode of the young man out of his mind, and then raised his hand to tap his head, trying to drive away the anxiety and mania in his mind.

According to the various materials collected from Site-41, Adam had pieced together the grand plan the Foundation had launched to deal with the anti-memetic threat of 3125:

The Foundation had realized the threat of 3125 a long time ago and had launched a series of research and strategic deployments.

To cover up Dr. Bartholomew Hughes's whereabouts, the Foundation deliberately forged his itinerary and created the illusion of his death.

Subsequently, Dr. Bartholomew Hughes was ordered to go to Site-167 to build the "Non-Reality Expander."

Theoretically, as long as everything went smoothly, after a period of time, 3125 would be directly defeated by Hughes and his great invention.

But... that was only theoretically.

Because this goddamn reality was still in this goddamn state!

Silently adding this, Adam looked back at the site he had just left, and then headed toward Site-167 without looking back.

He felt that something of his had been buried here, but he couldn't remember what.

After a long trek and a long period of wilderness survival, Adam saw an abrupt complex of buildings on the endless plain.

Before coming here, he thought it would be a strict military-controlled area, or similar to Site-41, a pleasant office area.

But after seeing it with his own eyes, Adam mistakenly thought he had arrived at a thermal power plant.

Adam still had to admit that although Site-41 was shrouded in an anti-memetic stance, as an office space, its surface part was still quite comfortable.

And the Site-167 in the distance, covering a full four square kilometers, had buildings that could be called ugly, even aggressively ugly.

It had no green vegetation, as cold and hard as a concrete forest.

Security containment warehouses, research laboratories, and administrative offices stood on the plain, letting the gale howl through the building complex, sweeping past the sharp edges of the buildings, making a harsh roar.

Nearly half of the site had been precisely erased by the orbital laser, leaving a clear dividing line—on one side were intact buildings and roads, and on the other side were scorched, flat ruins, which were shocking.

Adam speculated that perhaps when the anti-meme warhead trigger mechanism was activated, the laser system automatically intervened to clean it up.

However, the specific events could no longer be verified, and it didn't matter at this moment.

His goal was hidden underground; that was the destination of his trip.

He was already on the verge of his limit, not just his body, but his mind, shrouded in the ubiquitous malicious radiation of 3125; just resisting it put him on the edge of a mental breakdown.

The apocalypse was still ongoing, and that red-black sun on the horizon was still hanging high.

And Adam was probably the only survivor currently capable of stopping this disaster.

This hope was too fragile; as long as one anomaly discovered him, it could destroy him, and the difficulty would be no higher than destroying an anthill.

But even if it was so fragile, when this hope fell on him as a responsibility, it was too heavy, like a vise, firmly clamping his mind, waking him up every night.

The world in front of him gradually blurred, the dazzling migraine followed like a shadow, and the loneliness and depression surged like a tide.

It was time to make the final decision.

Between Building 8 and the facility numbered 22E, there was a vertical entrance, a thirty-meter-wide hexagonal shaft with a conspicuous yellow crane hanging above it.

This shaft was used to transport heavy machinery and construction materials directly to the vast underground complex.

Adam stood at the edge of the shaft without a guardrail, carefully leaning over to look down, only feeling an invisible force wanting to suck him in.

"It should be down here... it's really deep..."

The inner wall of the shaft was equipped with a metal spiral staircase leading down. Adam regained some strength, took the map from his backpack, and entered Site-167.

This place was very different from the quiet and peaceful Site-41; besides the different style, there was another difference in security level.

Site-41 was Safe-class; this place clearly wasn't.

Warning signs were everywhere, some were hanging banners, some were painted on the walls in conspicuous yellow paint, and some were scrolling letters.

Among them were many symbols that Adam could not understand, and he had no clues to infer them.

Before long, an airtight door blocked his way.

Adam observed carefully and found that the airtight door of containment unit S167-00-6183 was no different from Site-41's.

The only difference was that there was no hole in this door.

Adam swiped the access card through the card reader.

The door rotated open, revealing a sterile white vestibule, the air filled with a long-sealed silence.

He walked in and waited for the disinfection procedure to start.

If his expectations were correct, the ultimate solution to reverse the status quo and change everything was right in front of him, just one inner door away.

Everything was about to be revealed.

Adam's heart was pounding like thunder, his eardrums were constantly vibrating, and the tinnitus was replaced by powerful, rhythmic war drums.

But before the inner door opened, everything was uncertain to him.

He asked himself that final, most chilling question:

"But if you are here, Dr. Bartholomew Hughes, and have successfully built that machine, and it really works—why haven't you appeared yet?"

He asked and answered himself, as if getting a vaccine before the plague arrived to ward off the impending bad news:

"Because the machine is useless."

"Because you can't build it."

"Because you're dead."

The inner door slowly opened.

The underground room was filled with a tropical, humid atmosphere, so thick it felt like one could taste its texture.

It was an unpleasant smell, lingering like stagnant lymph.

Overhead, floodlights were sparsely distributed, with about one-tenth still stubbornly flickering with a faint light.

As far as Adam's eyes could see, waste was piled up like a mountain.