“Are you really going to kill... the founder of the Savior Company?” Lin Xian asked.
Based on what he understood, Gao Wen’s target might very well be Miss Da Vinci, the Genius Club member who always wore a mask. After all, in this era, every city was controlled and run by mechanical beings. The root cause? The founding of the Savior Company and the mass production of millions of mechanical beings had ultimately led to this suffocating future.
“No, no, no,” Gao Wen shook his head, denying Lin Xian’s assumption. “No one in this world, despite disliking the oppressive personal scoring system, holds any grudge against the Savior Company. Everyone knows that without their foresight and without those countless mechanical beings helping humans rebuild civilization, life would be much worse now. Perhaps it wouldn’t even exist.”
“Even for me personally, I feel more gratitude than resentment towards the Savior Company. I know their original purpose was good. They never intended to harm humanity—how could I bite the hand that feeds me?”
Lin Xian blinked, considering Gao Wen’s words. The man was certainly logical. “Then, who exactly is your target?”
Gao Wen clenched his jaw, his expression resolute. “The one who caused the catastrophe of 2400. Only he is the true villain! If not for that disaster, human civilization wouldn’t have regressed, our population wouldn’t have dwindled, and mechanical beings wouldn’t be running our cities. None of this would’ve happened.
“With the level of technology humans had in 2400, if not for that catastrophe, we would’ve already left Earth, maybe even ventured beyond the solar system into the vast cosmos.”
Gao Wen’s voice grew sharp, tinged with righteous anger. “And this catastrophe—it couldn’t have been a natural disaster. The way the Savior Company prepared and activated the mechanical beings ahead of time shows that some people knew it was coming. So, it’s obvious—this was not a natural event. It was man-made.”
Lin Xian nodded, finding Gao Wen’s conclusion quite evident. “But didn’t you say you don’t know who triggered the catastrophe? How would sending a time-traveling assassin back help you find the real instigator?”
“That is one reason I am searching for time-space particles,” Gao Wen replied. “Myself and Big Cat’s father both believe that the disaster of 2400 might have been triggered by someone using time-space particles!”
Gao Wen’s words sent Lin Xian deep into thought. This was indeed a completely new angle.
He had never figured out what kind of man-made power could create such a massive global disaster. It just didn’t seem scientific. Human power was tiny compared to nature. Even detonating all nuclear weapons would be like a scratch to Earth. Any earthquake, volcano eruption, or tsunami could release tens or hundreds of times more energy than all nuclear weapons combined. Earth’s geological energy was astronomical, beyond what humans could manipulate.
From this perspective, Gao Wen and Big Cat’s father’s theory made perfect sense.
“I get it now,” Lin Xian said. “I initially thought you wanted to steal time-space particles from Donghai City purely for time travel. But this is a double advantage. Once you get the time-space particles, you can study them to uncover the truth behind the catastrophe of 2400, and then use them to send a time-traveling assassin to take out the true culprit.”
Suddenly, something struck Lin Xian.
Back in the fifth dream, Gao Wen had been forced into hibernation because his research on the time machine couldn’t progress without time-space particles. But now, Emperor Gao Wen had somehow succeeded in building the time machine despite still not possessing the particles.
Lin Xian voiced his confusion. “Wait, isn’t time-space particles a key component for inventing a time machine? I thought without them, it would be theoretically impossible to create a working model.”
Gao Wen smiled, turning to Big Cat. “That’s why I always say, Big Cat’s father, Chen Heping, is the true hero behind the time machine.”
Gao Wen then began recounting the history of the time machine to Lin Xian.
After Donghai City grew stricter and more demanding, many people were expelled, and their anger and resentment gathered outside the city, slowly forming the infamous Sin City. Unlike the others, Gao Wen left voluntarily. He could’ve stayed—he was disciplined, followed every rule, and had enough points to maintain his rating. But he did not believe in what Donghai City stood for.
Worse still, an atmosphere had grown in every profession: “The less you do, the fewer mistakes you make; if you do nothing, you make no mistakes.” This was the last thing Gao Wen wanted to see.
People were so terrified of losing points that they preferred not to do anything extra—just what was expected, nothing more, nothing bold, nothing risky.
That might be acceptable in other fields, but in scientific research, it was a death sentence! Research was about trying a thousand times, failing a thousand times, and only succeeding once. Failure wasn’t just expected—it was essential.
No true scientist feared failure; they knew better than anyone that failure was the key to progress. In Donghai City, scientific failure wasn’t penalized, but the general societal oppression snuffed out any spirit or courage people had.
Expecting someone who lived their life scared of making mistakes—scared to speak up, scared to take risks—to suddenly become brave and relentless in a lab, challenging obstacles and authority? Impossible.
Gao Wen had faced this very frustration while doing research in Donghai City. Scientists there were shackled, treating research as a mere job, lacking the drive for breakthroughs. It stemmed from the oppressed lives they led. Young trainees from school seemed utterly clueless, frightened, and devoid of the scientific spirit.
Gao Wen was disillusioned—not just with Donghai City, but with the future itself. He knew that if humanity continued down this path, it wouldn’t just stagnate—it would regress.
So, Gao Wen chose to leave, heading to Sin City. He didn’t believe everyone there was good, but at least here, people felt real—they had fight and drive.
In Sin City, he met Chen Heping, who was younger at the time. Chen wasn’t married yet, nor had he fathered Big Cat. He had a passion for mathematics, and he and Gao Wen shared strikingly similar ideals. Especially when it came to rejecting the current state of things and hoping for a better future—they hit it off immediately and became close friends.
Even though Lin Xian had long known about time travel and had encountered time travelers, standing in front of the time machine made him feel a thousand emotions.
This was humanity’s unyielding, resilient epic.
He took a step back, taking in the entire machine. The enormous device was mostly rectangular in shape.
Gao Wen had explained it before. The rear section was packed with a series of nuclear batteries stacked together, but the crucial part was the shuttle pod at the front.
Lin Xian moved closer to take a look. The design was difficult to describe. A cylindrical sealed pod was fixed at the center, surrounded by numerous concentric rings of different sizes. Their purpose was unclear.
“The time traveler goes into this cylindrical pod to travel through time,” Gao Wen said, joining Lin Xian.
He patted the sealed cylinder, which looked big enough for two or three people. “Before starting the machine, you need to remove all metal objects, lie inside, and then close the pod’s cover. Once the machine starts, the concentric rings around it begin to rotate, getting faster and faster, compressing energy into the time-space particle inside. Once the energy hits critical levels, the particle explodes, and the person inside is sent back in time.”
“Can I try it out?” Lin Xian asked. “Not for real, of course. No power. I just want to lie inside and see what it feels like.”
He was genuinely curious. After all, once Liu Feng built the time machine in 2024, Lin Xian planned to officially time travel and use the entangled time-space particle.
Now that the machine was right in front of him, he couldn’t resist the urge to experience it firsthand.
“No problem.” Gao Wen opened the door of the pod, gesturing for Lin Xian to remove his shoes and climb inside. “Just lie down inside.”
Lin Xian obeyed, crawling in headfirst and lying flat on his back, staring at the dark interior. “It feels... a bit claustrophobic.”
“It’s a closed space; that’s normal,” Gao Wen replied. “Want me to close the pod door so you can get a more realistic feel?”
“It’s pitch black inside, and it’s really uncomfortable,” Lin Xian said. “But the time machine takes quite a while to prepare. From lying down and closing the door to actually starting up the machine—it takes about half an hour. During that time, you’re just lying there, unable to see or hear anything, completely cut off. It’s probably the loneliest thirty minutes of a person’s life.”
Lin Xian closed his eyes. “I guess I could try it out, but don’t keep me in here for half an hour. A minute or two is fine.”
“Got it.” With that, Gao Wen closed the door with a loud clang, locking it tight.
Inside the pod, there was no light at all.
No sound.
The only thing Lin Xian could hear was his own breathing. If he held his breath, he could even hear his own heartbeat. Gao Wen had been right; it was a strange, unsettling feeling, like he had been stripped away from both time and the universe. There was no sense of place, no feeling of belonging.
“Belonging,” Lin Xian muttered softly.
Yes, time travelers leave behind their homes and loved ones to journey to unknown times and worlds. Where would they find a sense of belonging?
Lin Xian knew that in another minute, Gao Wen would open the door, and he’d be back with Big Cat, his trio of little brothers, and Xu Yi Yi. But for a true time traveler, when they opened their eyes, they’d be far from home, in a strange, distant place.
Suddenly, Lin Xian thought of Yellow Finch and Lin Yu Xi. Before they started their journey in the time machine, they must’ve also sat in a pitch-black silence, listening to nothing but their own breathing and heartbeats for that endless half-hour.
“What would you both be thinking at a time like this?” Lin Xian wondered aloud, closing his eyes.
He had an idea of what Lin Yu Xi might’ve thought. She had been unaware of many things back then, probably just focusing on following orders, completing her mission, and capturing him.
“Ughh...” Lin Xian let out a deep breath.
He thought of the blue snow that had covered Donghai City, and then of Yellow Finch—her blue eyes and blue earrings.
What about Yellow Finch?
During that half-hour of waiting, what had been going through her mind?