3: Chapter 3 The Ancestor of Zombie Process

After the storm at the ancestral hall subsided, Lin Xu sorted through his belongings in his dilapidated courtyard.

The original owner's life was so barren it seemed like the result of deliberate optimization—a worn-out storage bag, a few tattered copies of the "Qi Induction Manual," and half a piece of moldy dry rations. But amidst this poverty, one jade slip was particularly eye-catching. Not because it was precious, but because it was unrecognizable.

When Source Text Vision scanned other items, standardized information panels would pop up, but for this jade slip, it displayed:

[Object: Unknown Data Medium] [Status: Encrypted (Level: ROOT)] [Remarks: Detected energy signature homologous to host's Vision] [Warning: Forced reading may trigger system alarm]

"Homologous?"

Lin Xu held the jade slip in his palm and tentatively extended his divine sense into it. In an instant, his consciousness was pulled into a compressed space. It wasn't an illusion; it was a more primitive, direct connection at the data level.

"If you are seeing this text,"

The voice vibrated directly within his neurons—ancient, weary, and carrying static-like electronic interference—"it means you have also discovered it. The underlying code of this world."

"I am Gu Yuan. A thousand years ago, I was the Ancestor of the Zhenbei Marquis Mansion. I was also the first NPC to awaken in this Experimental Field."

Lin Xu's body froze. It wasn't fear, but resonance. In the endless sea of code, he had encountered another person writing comments.

"I did not succeed," the voice continued, calm to the point of cruelty. "By the time I discovered the truth of the Source Text, my body had already been flagged for deletion by the system. My consciousness could only remain stuck in memory in the form of a Zombie Process. For a thousand years. Watching the system repeat the same errors, watching countless possibilities be wasted."

"But now, you have come."

[Temporary ROOT Permissions Granted: 300 seconds] [Critical Information Transferring] [Coordinates: Marquis Mansion Ancestral Graves, Tomb No. 37, Maintenance Entrance] [Key: Your questions. Your continuous questioning.]

The information flow cut off. The jade slip crumbled into ash in his palm as if it had never existed. Only those coordinates remained, along with a certain warmth of being understood.

At the third quarter of the Hour of the Rat, the Marquis Mansion's ancestral graves.

Upon the eerie, yin-chilled earth, thirty-seven tombstones were arranged in a structure familiar to Lin Xu. It wasn't a Feng Shui formation; it was a data storage topology. A Hash Table, or perhaps a B+ Tree.

Tombstone No. 37 was wordless, bearing only a single line of engraving in the format of a code comment:

// What is buried here is not a corpse, but possibility. // If you read this, please continue. // Do not leave me to wait in loneliness.

Lin Xu knelt and extended his divine sense into the tombstone. Source Text Vision identified a maintenance entrance—a backdoor left by some system administrator. He sent a connection request:

[Lin Xu → Gu Yuan (Zombie Process v7.2.1)] [Response Latency: 2.3s (Abnormal)] [Response Content: Who?]

"Senior Gu Yuan," Lin Xu responded within his consciousness, "I am Lin Xu. Another reader who discovered the comments, and another writer attempting to write them."

[Latency: 5.7s] [Response: A thousand years. First. Connection. Not system deletion. A person?]

"A person," Lin Xu said, "Or rather, something like you. Once human, now a mixture of code and consciousness. A superposition of the comment and the commented."

[Latency: 12.4s] [Response: Enter. But warning. My state is unstable. May harm you. May be harmed by you.]

Connection established.

His consciousness sank, entering Gu Yuan's data space. There was no light, no shape, only endlessly flowing information—a thousand years of dreams, a thousand years of loneliness, a thousand years of waiting.

At the center, a translucent figure hovered, data streams flickering within the body like an old CRT monitor.

"You..." Gu Yuan's voice was clearer, yet more exhausted, "are different from me. You still have a body. You still have possibilities. I have only this. The remnants of a thousand years."

"You are not alone," Lin Xu said. "Your comments are circulating. Your backdoors are being used. It was through your notes that I found this place."

"Notes?" Gu Yuan's data body flickered. "Those were just fragments. Overflows of my scattered consciousness. The true legacy is here. In my core."

He reached out, his data structure pointing toward a glowing node:

[Object: Source Code Editor (Full Version)] [Status: Locked (Inheritance Ritual Required)] [Function: System-level code viewing and modification] [Side Effect: Excessive use will lead to the burning of 'Humanity Code'] [Remarks: Maintained for a thousand years, no suitable successor found]

"This was once my tool," Gu Yuan said, "and also my cage. I used it to see too much, understand too much, and then I could no longer return to ignorance, could no longer stop questioning."

"Now I give it to you. Not because you are worthy, but because you came. Before I completely dissipate. This is a miracle of probability, or a system error."

"I choose to believe the latter."

Lin Xu looked at that glowing data structure. It wasn't greed he felt, but reverence. It was the encounter with another Architect's legacy, the passing of a responsibility.

"I accept," he said, "not as a gift, but as a debt. I will continue your comments, attempt to answer your questions, or at the very least, ask better ones."

[Inheritance Ritual Initiated] [Source Code Editor (Full Version) → Lin Xu] [Warning during Thousand-Year Cultivation Transfer: Host biological capacity insufficient, cultivation will be locked and gradually released] [Gu Yuan's Consciousness State: Further Decaying]

Pain. Information overload. A thousand years of knowledge, loneliness, and hope flooded into his consciousness. Lin Xu felt himself expanding, restructuring, becoming something more.

But he also felt limitations. Biological limitations of the body. He could not carry it all. His cultivation was locked away like a compressed file, requiring him to grow before it could be gradually released.

"This is a protection," Gu Yuan's voice grew even weaker, "and also a curse. You will crave more, attempt to accelerate the unlocking, and risk burning your humanity."

"But remember," the data body began to dissipate, "we write comments not to be remembered. We write them to be forgotten. To make it so the next reader no longer needs comments, to let the system finally explain itself."

"This is the paradox of open source. We work hard to make ourselves no longer necessary."

"Senior Gu Yuan!"

"Do not look for me," the voice came from far away, "I will be scattered throughout the system as backdoors, as potential entrances. When you need me, I will be there. In the form of comments."

"Now go. Go write your comments. Go become an error the system cannot digest."

Light erupted, then vanished.

Lin Xu knelt before Tomb No. 37. The tombstone was still blank, but a new ability had appeared in his consciousness. The ability to question, the ability to modify, the ability to hope.

Source Text Vision Updated:

[Source Code Editor (Full Version) Activated] [Current Unlock: 10% (Limited by host biological capacity)] [Function: Local code viewing and modification (Single object, single parameter)] [Warning: Each modification generates 'logic entropy'; accumulating too much will attract 'Antivirus Programs'] [Thousand-Year Cultivation: Locked, gradually unlocking as host grows]

He stood up. The east was faintly pale; the night was ending. But before leaving, he added a line of comments to the tombstone—one that only other awakened ones could see:

// Gu Yuan is here. // Not death, but a distributed existence. // Access method: Questioning. // Current reader: Lin Xu. // Next reader: Waiting.

He turned and walked away.

Behind him, the tombstone flickered once. Like a smile. Like a continuation.