34: Chapter 34 Damn it, I've been coding for eight years, and you're telling me there are miracles in this world?

The second the door pushed open, the world changed.

It wasn't a fade-in; it was a cut.

The previous frame was still rotting wood, cobwebs, the smell of mold, and autumn sunlight filtering through broken window lattices—the next frame, it was all gone.

The sensation under her feet changed.

Her canvas shoes stepped onto dark gray stone tiles—rough, flat, with thin golden lines flowing through the cracks.

Above her wasn't a roof, nor was it the sky—it was a stagnant, pale gold dome.

There was no sun, no clouds; light poured down evenly from every direction.

A layer of cold sweat broke out on Lin Xiaoman's back instantly.

Before her was a stone corridor.

Five meters wide and over twenty meters long, the stone walls on both sides were polished enough to reflect her silhouette.

The corners were carved with runes she didn't recognize; they weren't part of any known language family.

She took her first step.

The sound of her footsteps landed on the stone tiles, the echoes bouncing twice through the corridor.

It didn't sound like something she had caused; it was as if something was counting for her.

On the left wall, the first mural.

A knight in silver-white holy armor raised a blade to slay demons in the nocturnal wilderness.

Holy light erupted from the cross patterns on the armor, tearing the twisted, eerie creatures into fragments.

Lin Xiaoman's brain automatically activated its analysis module.

Holographic projection? No, there were no electromagnetic signatures of any projection equipment here.

AR augmented reality? She wasn't wearing any glasses or contact devices.

Quantum entanglement sensing? Theoretically, it was impossible to produce macroscopic visual effects.

She reached out her hand.

Her fingertips touched the stone surface of the mural.

It was hot.

Real, residual warmth seeping from deep within the stone.

It wasn't an electric heating wire, nor a chemical reaction—it was a heat source that didn't exist in her knowledge system.

Her fingertips retracted faster than she could react.

Her body had made a judgment before her consciousness did—this wasn't fake.

The second mural lit up.

A Taoist summoned heavenly lightning to split open a black rift.

Lin Xiaoman's brain was still spinning.

Plasma discharge? Visual residue of a high-voltage arc?

She scanned the surface of the mural—there was no conductive medium; it couldn't explain the next one.

The third one showed a priest holding up a golden barrier, with dense crowds of people beneath it.

Electromagnetic field? Gravitational lens?

She reached out and touched it again.

It was still hot, the same kind of heat, the same heat that she couldn't retrieve from her knowledge database.

The fourth one depicted a heavily armored warrior kneeling on one knee, holding up a shield that was more than half shattered, while the thing opposite him was so large it filled the entire upper half of the stone wall.

Lin Xiaoman didn't reach out.

She realized she didn't want to look for explanations anymore.

It wasn't giving up; it was that every analysis link had returned a null value.

The cognitive framework she had built over eight years with logic and code had its load-bearing walls dismantled by these murals, one by one, in this stone corridor.

Her brain was still running at high speed, but the direction of its operation had changed—it was no longer "What is this," but "Who are these people."

The fifth one.

The entire wall, from left to right, from top to bottom, was filled with figures.

Some were flying in the sky, some were operating massive metal structures, some were shirtless with fists wrapped in flames.

Some fell, and those beside them stepped over them to continue charging.

The sky was collapsing, the earth was cracking, and there was nothing left behind them.

Lin Xiaoman didn't dare stop.

She feared that if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to move forward.

The last wall.

No fighting.

No monsters.

A ball of golden fire; beneath the flames, countless figures knelt on one knee.

Some with severed arms, some leaning on crutches, some with half their bodies charred.

No faces.

Everyone's faces had been worn away, or perhaps they had never been carved on in the first place.

Nameless.

Lin Xiaoman's vision blurred.

She didn't even know when the tears fell.

There was no sound, no sobbing.

Water welled up from her eyes, slid down her cheeks, and hit the stone tiles.

Her brain was issuing a warning: "You are crying, cause unknown, please investigate."

She couldn't investigate.

She didn't know anyone in the paintings.

She didn't know what they were called, where they came from, or if they survived in the end.

She couldn't find any node in her logical chain that could explain the source of these tears.

But images were flashing in her mind.

The news about the Eastern Chemical Plant— "Equipment aging and explosion."

The blurry screenshots of the East Sea—columns of flame shooting into the sky.

The military's highest-level blockade—three destroyers.

It wasn't a biochemical weapon leak.

It wasn't a military experiment.

It wasn't a state conspiracy.

It was real monsters!

And these people in the murals, generation after generation, were blocking it with their lives.

The secret she had been tracking from behind a screen wasn't some power conspiracy; it was the last line of defense for human civilization.

The stone corridor reached its end.

Lin Xiaoman took the final step, and her field of vision exploded open.

A circular plaza, three tiers of stone steps, an altar.

An ancient tree.

A dark golden trunk, expanding and contracting.

It was in sync with a heartbeat.

Lin Xiaoman's legs couldn't hold her up.

Her right hand gripped the nearest broken pillar tightly, her nails digging into the weathered cracks, keeping her from collapsing.

Her fingertips pressed against the stone surface—the strokes of the golden characters were hot.

"As long as civilization does not go out, the Kindling shall burn forever."

Her lips were trembling.

She thought of herself.

Six years old, no one at home, the living room light had been broken for three days, and no one had changed it.

She dragged a chair over, climbed onto the computer desk, opened the programming textbook her father had left on the table, and typed the first line of code according to the first page.

The screen lit up.

That was the first light she had lit in her life herself.

From that day on, for eight years, she had built a castle in the digital world.

The walls were code, the doors were firewalls, and the moat was encryption protocols.

She had locked herself inside, thinking that was the whole world.

Now she stood in the ruins of another castle.

The walls of this castle were built of bone.

It had been guarded for thousands of years, shattered and rebuilt, rebuilt and shattered.

Only one tree that was still breathing remained, along with a few broken pillars carved with oaths.

In the distance, those collapsed halls, shattered domes, and toppled statues stretched to the horizon.

It had once been vast.

Now, only this remained.

"It seems we are to have a new member."

The voice came from the direction of the altar.

It wasn't loud, but in this vast expanse of ruins, it carried extremely far.

Lin Xiaoman jerked her head up.

Su Chen stood beside the ancient tree.

A half-face bronze mask flickered in the golden light.

He glanced at Lin Xiaoman—just one glance.

The weight of that gaze made Lin Xiaoman's spine tense up another notch.

Then he withdrew his gaze and turned to Liu Yuyan beside him.

"You must perform well in front of the newcomer."

The tone was casual, as if he were talking about adding an extra pair of chopsticks for dinner.

The corners of Liu Yuyan's mouth twitched.

A hint of a smile flashed in her eyes—not the polite pretense of the business world, but the subtle, warm look of an "experienced hand" watching a "newcomer."

Lin Xiaoman caught this detail.

When she had blocked her in the courtyard, Liu Yuyan was a queen of the business world.

Her frost-like pressure made it hard to breathe.

Now, standing beside Su Chen, all her sharpness was sheathed, and her eyes held only respect.

The actual controller of a hundred-billion-yuan conglomerate was like a sheathed sword in front of this young man.

Su Chen walked up the three tiers of stone steps and stood directly in front of the ancient tree.

"The ancient tree has witnessed the rise and fall of every generation of Kindling."

The voice wasn't loud, but the acoustic structure of the altar plaza caught every syllable and carried it far.

"Its test is not to measure your martial strength—"

He pressed his palm against the lowest branch of the ancient tree.

"—but to judge your soul."

Dark golden light surged from the branches into his arm.

Then it erupted.

The entire ancient tree's golden radiance flared three times brighter.

The patterns on the bark all lit up, and liquid gold surged through the gullies.

The golden light in the cracks of the floor tiles spread synchronously, extending from the center of the altar in all directions.

The oaths on the broken pillars stood out in relief, every character glowing.

The air changed.

The quiet, ancient atmosphere was instantly replaced by something burning hot, alive, and full of vitality.

A heatwave surged up from the soles of her feet; it wasn't burning, but rather as if some massive entity had turned over, and the breath it exhaled happened to pass beneath her feet.

Lin Xiaoman took two steps back, her back hitting the stone pillar behind her.

Her nails dug into the weathered cracks.

She didn't know what was about to happen.

But the atmosphere was solemn to the bone; her throat tightened, and instinctively, she dared not make a sound.

Su Chen's voice rang out in the golden light.

"Liu Yuyan, come up."

Liu Yuyan stepped onto the first tier of stone steps.

The golden light surged up from the soles of her feet, climbing up her shoes, pant legs, and waistline.

She stood directly in front of the ancient tree, closed her eyes, and reached out.

Her fingertips touched the trunk—the entire ancient tree shook violently.

A golden pillar of light, as thick as a water barrel, shot up from the crown of the tree, piercing through the pale golden dome.

Liu Yuyan's body was lifted by the pillar of light, slowly rising from the ground.

Lin Xiaoman covered her mouth.