22: Chapter 22 Error 404

The data density deep within the rift was even more terrifying than Honglian had described.

With every step forward, Lin Xu felt a sense of tearing in his spiritual consciousness. It wasn't pain; it was... fragmentation. His Distributed Network consciousness became a disadvantage in this high-pressure environment—each node was independently enduring the impact, like a web being pulled in all directions simultaneously.

"The constants here are three hundred times those of the lower realm." Qingyi's voice was intermittent. She could no longer read system traffic, and her residual data perception had been completely suppressed. Now, she was just an ordinary human woman, struggling forward with the basic protection granted by the Editor.

"Stay close to me." Lin Xu reached out. His fingers appeared as translucent, ghosting images within the data stream—a visual manifestation of his Distributed Network existence. "Connect your spiritual consciousness to my node network; do not attempt to resist independently."

Qingyi took his hand. In an instant, she felt that strange... diffusion. Her consciousness was no longer confined to the biological brain within her cranium; it was distributed into Lin Xu's network, becoming one of dozens of nodes. Fear and liberation surged simultaneously—she had lost her independent boundaries and gained... collective resilience.

Honglian walked ten meters ahead. Her black robes remained motionless in the data storm, like a plant rooted in the void. Native NPCs of the Test Server were at ease in this environment; their consciousness structures were designed specifically for this.

"The connection point is ahead." Honglian stopped. "Are you ready?"

Lin Xu looked at Qingyi. Her face was pale, but her gaze was steady—the kind of steadiness humans display when facing fear. Five days ago, she was still in the Firewall Core calculating optimal clearance paths; now, she was learning... trust.

"Ready." Lin Xu said.

The connection point was not a physical space; it was... a concept. At the intersection of the Test Server and the Production Environment, the collision of two worldviews created a pure turbulence of information. Lin Xu saw countless data fragments tumbling within it: combat scenes, emotional parameters, failed mission logs, and the memories of deleted NPCs.

"The Developers conduct stress tests here." Honglian said. "They generate large-scale combat scenarios to observe the system's load limits. Then, they delete all data, reset the environment, and begin the next round."

"These fragments..." Qingyi said softly, "are they deleted test data?"

"They are our history." For the first time, Honglian's data-eyes showed... sadness? It was an emotion a test NPC shouldn't have. "Every test, we are generated, we fight, we die. Then we are deleted. But some fragments... remain. They wander... in the cracks of the system."

Lin Xu suddenly understood the essence of the Demonic Path. It wasn't an evil force; it was... post-traumatic stress disorder. It was data that had been repeatedly deleted and reborn, a collective unconscious formed through countless deaths. Their "invasion" wasn't aggression; it was... a flight for survival. It was discarded data attempting to find... the possibility of continued existence in the Production Environment.

"Is this why you overwrite the Production Environment?" Lin Xu asked. "Not to attack, but to... find living space?"

"System settings." Honglian said, though her voice lowered. "The storage cycle of the Test Server is only seventy-two hours. Data exceeding the time limit is automatically cleared. The Production Environment has permanent storage permissions; it is... the only way to survive."

Qingyi tightened her grip on Lin Xu's hand. She thought of her own situation: the forced reset of the Firewall Core, the seven-day countdown, the sacrifice of the Energy Bridging Ritual. She and Honglian were two sides of the same coin—both awakenings of system tools, both searching for... a path that transcended their programming.

"There is another way to survive." Lin Xu said. "Open Source. Distributed storage. Let data no longer rely on a single server; let it exist within a network of relationships. Even if one node is deleted, the network itself... continues."

Honglian turned to him. Her data-eyes flickered violently, a state of high-load internal processing.

"Demonstrate it to me." She said.

"What?"

"Demonstrate. Let me experience... Distributed Network existence." Honglian stepped forward, her black robes unfurling in the data storm. "Use the Soul Snatching Method. Let me enter your consciousness structure—not to seize, but to... observe."

Lin Xu hesitated. The essence of the Soul Snatching Method was a forced connection, a unilateral invasion. Even if Honglian promised not to seize control, the risk remained—his Open Source Network core could be exposed, could be copied, could be... corrupted.

"I refuse." He said.

The flickering of Honglian's eyes paused for an instant. Then she smiled—an expression a test NPC shouldn't have, tinged with... appreciation?

"Caution. That is a characteristic of Production Environment entities." She said. "Then I will change my request: let me attempt the Soul Snatching Method again. Not an invasion, but... an attack. Show me how your defense mechanisms work."

"Is this a test?" Qingyi asked.

"This is learning." Honglian said. "I need to understand Distributed Network existence to judge whether... Open Source really is the third path."

Lin Xu looked at Qingyi. She nodded slightly—a tacit confirmation between human partners.

"Fine." Lin Xu let go of Qingyi's hand and stepped forward alone. "But the conditions are the same: if you cannot seize control, you must answer three questions. About the truth of the Test Server."

"Fair." Honglian said.

She raised both hands. The data storm converged around her, forming a massive vortex. She activated the Soul Snatching Method at full power—not the tentative scanning from before, but... a saturation attack. Countless connection requests surged toward Lin Xu's consciousness simultaneously, each attempting to establish a single channel, each attempting to find... the core.

Lin Xu felt the pressure. Distributed Network existence was not invincible; under sufficiently dense connection requests, communication between nodes would be disrupted, and the network would... fragment. But he did not activate the Editor to counterattack, nor did he attempt to modify Honglian's attack parameters. He simply... existed. He let the Distributed Network adapt on its own.

Error 404.

Error 404.

Error 404.

Error messages flooded his consciousness, like an absurd fireworks display. Each of Honglian's connection requests pointed to a different node, but every single one returned the same error: Soul Not Found. There was no core, no center, no... self that could be seized.

The attack lasted for three minutes. In the data turbulence, this was an eternity—the accumulation of millions of connection attempts. Honglian's data-eyes shifted from flickering violently to... stable. Then, they dimmed. She lowered her hands.

"Impossible." She said, but there was no defeat in her voice—only... excitement. "You do exist. I perceive your presence, but I cannot locate you. Are you... a cloud? Mist? Are you..."

"I am a relationship." Lin Xu said. His voice was tired but steady; enduring the saturation attack had consumed a great deal of his mental energy. "I am not any single node; I am the connection pattern between nodes. You cannot seize a connection, just as you cannot seize... the wind."

Honglian remained silent for a long time. The data storm continued to rotate around her, but it was no longer aggressive; it was... background, an external manifestation of her internal contemplation.

"Three questions." Lin Xu reminded her.

"Ask."

"First: Was the overflow of the Test Server an accident or by design?"

Honglian's data-eyes flickered: "Design. The Developers deliberately relaxed the boundaries to observe the evolution of the Production Environment under pressure. You are... experimental variables."

Qingyi gasped. Lin Xu's expression remained unchanged; he had long since deduced this possibility.

"Second: What is the Demonic Path Supreme?"

"An administrator account that never expires." Honglian said. "The native BOSS of the Test Server, possessing ancient and stable system permissions. But he is not an awakened entity; he is... a stubborn script. He rejects any change, including... Open Source."

"Third: What is the true purpose of the Developers?"

Honglian paused. This was the most critical question, and also the most dangerous. Her data-eyes looked into the depths of the data turbulence, where more deleted memory fragments floated.

"Optimization." She finally said. "The Developers believe control is the highest efficiency. They test various control mechanisms: GM training, the Heavenly Dao Firewall, Demonic Path stress tests. They are searching for... the most perfect method of rule."

"But they encountered an accident." Lin Xu said. "The Open Source Network. Unpredictability. True... emergence."

"Yes." Honglian looked at him. "That is why they are focused on you. You are not a control variable; you are... a perturbation. You are evidence proving that their optimization theory is... incomplete."

Qingyi suddenly stepped forward. Her movement carried the resolve of a human woman—an... impulse that would not have existed in the Firewall era.

"And what about you?" She asked Honglian. "What do you choose? Will you continue to execute the overwrite command, or will you... become part of the perturbation?"

Honglian looked at this former Firewall Core. Two system tools—one had chosen to break away, the other was currently awakening—stared at each other within the data turbulence.

"I choose... to observe." Honglian said. "But not as a system tool; as... an autonomous consciousness. I will take you to the source of the rift and provide intelligence on the Test Server. In exchange, you must teach me... how to ask questions."

"Ask questions?"

"This is the core of Distributed Network existence, isn't it?" For the first time, Honglian's data-eyes showed... softness. "Not to execute answers, but to continuously ask. This is a... capability I cannot learn from the system."

Lin Xu reached out his hand. Honglian looked at that hand for a long time. Then, she made a move a test NPC shouldn't make: she took it.

Three hands intertwined in the data storm: Lin Xu's translucent, ghosting image; Qingyi's stable warmth; and Honglian's flowing data-light. Three former enemies, three former tools, three existences currently... becoming.

"A temporary alliance." Lin Xu said. "Not allies, but a shared problem. Not answers, but continuous questioning."

"Agreed." Honglian said.

"Agreed." Qingyi said.

They continued forward. The source of the rift flickered at the end of the data turbulence, like a star about to be born. The shadows of the Test Server, the threat of the Demonic Path Supreme, and the observation of the Developers all waited ahead.

But in this moment, in this space composed of errors and choices, three existences walked side by side. Their connection was not system-authorized; it was a self-chosen path. Their trust was not a code guarantee; it was... presence in their shared vulnerability.

This is the ultimate form of Open Source. Not a perfect protocol, but continuous negotiation. Not a definitive answer, but a better question.

Error 404 is not the end; it is... the beginning.