885: Chapter 88 Becoming the New Creator

She had followed Shen Yan for so long, watching him grow from a small studio into the massive group it was now, and she had never seen anyone manage to suppress Shen Yan.

"Also, notify the Security Department to clear out the annex building on the west side that was originally reserved for the Quantum Laboratory."

Shen Yan instructed calmly as he walked inside.

"It needs to be converted into Elder Mo's private living quarters and temporary workshop. No one is allowed in except for me and Anan."

Mo Weiming followed behind. He had been somewhat reserved, but upon hearing this, his back straightened slightly.

He looked around at the futuristic glass curtain walls like an old lion surveying his territory, scrutinizing everything with a critical eye.

"Too bright."

Mo Weiming grumbled.

"The light pollution is too severe; it affects thinking. Cover all the glass; I want a dark room."

Wu Ya subconsciously looked at Shen Yan. Such a request was practically asking to demolish the building.

"Do as Elder Mo says."

Shen Yan didn't even turn his head. "Go buy the best light-blocking fabric. Block all the light before this afternoon."

The group passed through the lobby, and the Employees they passed all glanced over.

The elite programmers, clad in plaid shirts and thick glasses, watched their boss respectfully escorting an old man who looked like a ragpicker. The whispering sounded like buzzing mosquitoes.

Shen Yan paid them no mind and led Mo Weiming directly into the core R&D area.

This was the heart of Shenlan, where dozens of servers flashed with a deep blue light, and the air was filled with the dry smell unique to these climate-controlled machine rooms.

The current R&D Director was named Zhang Ke, an overseas returnee poached from Silicon Valley, possessing immense pride.

Zhang Ke was pointing at a string of red error codes on the large screen and cursing. When he turned and saw Shen Yan, he was just about to greet him, but his gaze was immediately drawn to Mo Weiming.

"Mr. Shen, when did our cleaning department start hiring grandpas? This is a confidential area."

Zhang Ke frowned, waving a hand near his nose as if catching the smell of machine oil on Mo Weiming.

The black cat in the old man's arms hissed at Zhang Ke.

The old man stopped walking, tilting his head to look at the string of code endlessly looping on the large screen.

"Who wrote this garbage code?"

Mo Weiming's voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally jarring in the quiet machine room.

Zhang Ke's face instantly flushed the color of pig liver.

"What did you say? This is the latest neural network fitting algorithm. What the hell would an appliance repairman know!"

The surrounding programmers gathered around, wearing expressions ready to watch a joke.

Shen Yan remained silent, merely pulling over a chair to sit down, even crossing his legs with interest.

He was waiting.

Waiting for this sharp blade from the old era to fiercely pierce the vanity of these so-called elites.

Mo Weiming scoffed, stuffing the black cat into Shen Yan's arms.

He walked to the control console, his calloused hands hovering over the keyboard for a moment.

"You didn't even set a limit on the recursion depth. Are you writing an algorithm, or are you creating a memory leak bomb?"

Clack-clack-clack.

Mo Weiming's hand speed was astonishingly fast. His previously somewhat clouded eyes were now sharper than a surgical scalpel.

The sound of him hitting the keys was dense, like a torrential downpour.

Zhang Ke initially wanted to stop him, but looking at the code scrolling wildly on the screen, the hand he extended froze mid-air.

When an expert makes a move, you know immediately.

The error messages, which had been a chaotic mess of red characters, began turning green line by line under Mo Weiming's modifications.

That was the sign of successful compilation.

Three minutes.

In just three minutes.

Mo Weiming pressed the Enter key.

The model that had troubled the entire R&D department for a week instantly began running smoothly, and the efficiency index soared by three hundred percent.

The entire machine room fell deathly silent.

The only sound was the sudden acceleration of the server fans humming.

Zhang Ke's mouth hung wide open, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. He looked at the scruffy old man as if he were a monster.

This ancient assembly optimization technique, this ultimate control over underlying logic.

He suddenly remembered a legend he had heard while studying at MIT.

"You... you are 'The Ghost'?"

Zhang Ke's voice trembled.

Mo Weiming ignored him, merely taking out a dirty handkerchief from his pocket with distaste to wipe his hands.

"The feel of modern keyboards is truly terrible, soft and mushy like a woman's."

The old man turned around and took the cat from Shen Yan's arms.

"Don't let these idiots near my laboratory again. I'm afraid stupidity is contagious."

Shen Yan stood up and patted Zhang Ke's stiff shoulder.

"Did you hear that? From now on, for any equipment or resources Elder Mo needs, do not go through approval procedures. Just find Wu Ya directly."

Zhang Ke nodded frantically, his gaze toward Mo Weiming having transformed from contempt to fanatical worship.

Technologists admire strength. In the face of absolute technical suppression, even if Mo Weiming wore a sack, in their eyes, he was a god draped in a holy robe.

After settling Mo Weiming, Shen Yan took him to the annex building that was undergoing renovation.

Workers were hanging expensive blackout curtains, and several top-tier liquid-cooled servers were being carried in by movers as if they were ancestral idols.

Mo Weiming stood in the empty hall, watching all of this.

He had lived in basements, slept under overpasses, and even hunkered down in junkyards for over a decade in his life.

No one had ever shown him such respect.

Not charity, but respect.

"What else do you need?"

Shen Yan asked.

"Cola."

Mo Weiming turned back, a childlike stubbornness on his weathered face.

"I want Red Label Cola, ice cold, every day."

"As much as you want."

Shen Yan smiled and took a USB drive from his pocket.

This was the 'Beginner's Logical Framework for Artificial Intelligence' that the system had just rewarded him with.

Although labeled 'Beginner,' for the current technological tree of this era, this was a dimensional strike.

"This is for you."

Shen Yan tossed the USB drive over.

Mo Weiming caught it one-handed. "What is this? A Japanese adult film?"

"A little gift that might keep you awake for three days."

Shen Yan didn't explain much.

Mo Weiming suspiciously plugged the USB drive into the server terminal that hadn't been fully installed nearby.

The screen lit up.

Lines of never-before-seen logical architecture diagrams unfolded before his eyes.

Mo Weiming's eyes instantly widened, as if his throat had been choked, his breathing becoming rapid.

"This... this is..."

He reached out trembling fingers to touch the screen, as if touching a fragile work of art.

This logical closed-loop that abandoned traditional binary stacking and directly simulated biological synaptic connections.

This was something he had conceived for twenty years but could never bring to fruition.

"How do you have this?"

Mo Weiming suddenly turned and stared intently at Shen Yan, fear appearing in his eyes for the first time.

It was the fear of the unknown.

"I have my channels."

Shen Yan walked to the doorway, his back to the light, his shadow stretching long.

"Elder Mo, this is just the beginning."

"Anan's talent combined with this framework, plus your experience..."

"I want Shenlan Group to become the new Creator of this planet."