36: Chapter 36 Abandonment Warning

The spatial rift on the border of the Eastern Wasteland appeared a sickly purplish-red at dawn. It was not a sunrise, but the visual manifestation of the Test Server's data overflow reaching a critical point—like a wound that was healing yet constantly being torn open, continuously leaking chaos into the Production Environment.

Lin Xu stood on the temporarily constructed observation deck, his Source Text Vision fully activated. In his field of view, the entire Eastern Wasteland region was covered by a layer of constantly flashing warning colors: [ Data Integrity: 67% ] [ Predicted Collapse Time: 72 hours ] [ Recommended Action: Forced Isolation ]. These system prompts came from the limited administrative privileges he had obtained as a "Temporary Operator," but he knew the real decision-making power was not in his hands.

"GM High Command has rejected the open source plan." Yun Qingyi's voice came from behind him. She had just finished an emergency communication with the Training Base, and a faint glimmer remained in her data pupils from when the communication channel closed, "They have ordered the execution of the standard containment protocol: sever the connection between the Eastern Wasteland and the main network, with an estimated loss of... 40% of nodes."

"Including Honglian and 7749?"

"Including all existences within the Test Server overflow area."

Lin Xu turned around and looked at the busy crowd in the temporary camp. It was not an army; it was... a network. Members of the Alchemist Guild were distributing spiritual energy stabilizers, the technical team of the Loose Cultivators Alliance was setting up Distributed Network nodes, and representatives of the Mortal Chamber of Commerce were coordinating the flow of supplies—there was no unified command, no suppression of hierarchy, only countless autonomous responses based on a common problem.

"Do they know?" he asked, "About the 72-hour countdown?"

"Some do." Yun Qingyi walked over and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, "Information dissemination in the Open Source Network is not a broadcast; it is... routing. Each node decides what to pass on and to whom based on its own judgment. Some know everything, while others only know that action is required."

"And GM High Command knows that we know."

"Yes. This is a game."

Lin Xu was silent for a moment. In traditional power structures, information is control, and secrecy is an advantage. But the logic of the Open Source Network is the exact opposite—the distributed sharing of information does not create chaos; it creates... resilience. Even if some nodes are removed, the overall functionality of the network can still be maintained because the knowledge has already... taken root.

"We need to bypass the GM system." He said, not as a suggestion, but as a decision, "Disseminate the 'Abandonment Warning' directly to all nodes. Not as an order, but as... an invitation. Let every existence autonomously choose how to face a possible end."

Yun Qingyi's data pupils contracted slightly. This was a risk assessment reflex left over from her days as a Firewall—directly spreading the information that "the Experimental Field might be abandoned" could trigger panic, could disrupt stability, and could be judged as "malicious data" by the system and purged.

But she had also learned another way of calculating. Panic is short-term, but hope based on false stability is... toxic. The right to know is a painful right, but it is also... a right of dignity.

"My residual privileges can establish an encrypted broadcast channel," she said, "But the coverage is limited; it can only reach nodes that have already awakened. Traditional cultivators, NPCs not connected to the Open Source Network... they won't hear it."

"They will know through other means." Lin Xu looked toward the edge of the camp, where several Mortal were using primitive smoke signals to convey simple information—danger, prepare, unite. These signals would be misunderstood, would be distorted, but they would also... spread. Human networks have never relied solely on technology, "What's important is that we start disseminating. Not waiting for permission, but... acting."

The encrypted broadcast started at noon. Yun Qingyi connected herself to the core routing node of the Open Source Network, her residual Firewall privileges transforming into some kind of... bridge. Her form of existence expanded briefly at the data level, like a tree suddenly extending countless branches, touching every node she could reach.

[This is Anomaly Data #9527-001, and defecting Firewall #001.] Her broadcast had no disguise; it was her true identity, [We bring a possible message: Experimental Field 9527 faces the risk of abandonment. This is not a confirmation, it is a warning. This is not an order, it is information. Each node has the right to choose: prepare, or ignore; spread, or remain silent; fear, or... continue.]

She paused for 0.3 seconds—that was her standard response interval when she was a Firewall, but now, something... different happened in those 0.3 seconds. She felt the responses of countless nodes, not as data feedback, but as... existence. Some were listening, some were questioning, some were choosing to... connect, even in their fear.

[The design of the Open Source Network is not to prevent loss, but to ensure that something can... survive.] She continued, her voice—if it could be called a voice—carrying a tremor she had never experienced before, [Record yourselves. Memories, knowledge, relationships. Distributed storage. Ensure that even if the Experimental Field is formatted, some connections can... continue.]

The broadcast ended. Yun Qingyi withdrew from the data level and found herself kneeling on the metal floor of the observation deck, sweat—real, biological sweat—soaking her back. The consumption was greater than she had estimated, but the coverage was also... wider than estimated.

"Received." Lin Xu helped her up. His Source Text Vision captured the ripple effect in the network, "Central Plains, Western Regions, Southern Frontier... nodes are spontaneously forwarding it. Some are using our encryption protocols, some are using their own methods. A village of Mortal is using... drumbeats?"

"Drumbeats?"

"Three shorts and one long, repeating. Their interpretation is: 'Danger comes from the sky, preparation in the heart, unity on the ground.'" Lin Xu almost smiled, "The information was distorted, but the core was preserved. This is... distributed dissemination."

Yun Qingyi leaned against him, briefly—this was another new thing she had learned—accepting support. Her residual privileges had dropped below 15%, approaching the danger threshold. But the effect of the broadcast was manifesting: nodes in the Open Source Network were not fleeing in panic; they were... preparing. Recording their own existence, backing up their own memories, establishing cross-regional connections.

This was not a response to the fear of abandonment, but an expression of the desire to... continue.

However, the reaction from GM High Command came faster. In the afternoon, the Training Base's forced communication accessed the receivers of all Open Source Sect nodes—not a broadcast, but... peer-to-peer suppression.

[Anomaly Data #9527-001, defecting Firewall #001.] The instructor's interface declared in a standardized, cold tone, [Your actions have been flagged as "systemic panic incitement." According to Article 3, Chapter 7 of the GM Protocol, the Open Source Network will be placed on the watchlist. All nodes are prohibited from disseminating anything related to the "Abandonment Warning." Violators will face... rewriting.]

"Rewriting." Yun Qingyi repeated in a low voice. She understood the meaning of this word better than anyone—it was not death, but a more thorough... erasure. Formatting of consciousness, zeroing out of existence, where even the traces of "having once existed" would be deleted from the system logs.

Lin Xu's response was sent via the backend channel of the Open Source Network, bypassing GM monitoring: [Continue. They are not prohibiting dissemination; they are prohibiting... unified dissemination. So we will not unify. Each node will use its own method, its own rhythm, its own... language.]

He looked at Yun Qingyi, waiting for her judgment. She was no longer a Firewall; she had no obligation to support this... confrontation. But after a brief flicker, her data pupils stabilized.

"I have an idea," she said, "They rely on 'predictive models' to identify threats. If our dissemination is sufficiently... diverse and sufficiently unpredictable, the models will fail. Not because we are hiding, but because... we cannot be categorized."

"How?"

"Utilize my residual privileges, not to establish a unified channel, but to establish... noise. The information sent by each node will be uniquely encrypted, using their own... stories. The GM system will see countless unrelated signals, not as threats, but as... background noise."

Lin Xu understood. This was the reverse application of Firewall technology—not filtering noise to preserve signals, but... converting signals into noise, protecting diversity within indistinguishability. Yun Qingyi was using the weapons of her former "enemy" to serve "freedom."

"The cost?"

"Privilege exhaustion. After that, I will be... completely vulnerable. Unable to access any system, unable to defend against any attack," she said calmly, as if stating the weather, "But the information will... survive."

Lin Xu did not respond immediately. He remembered their first cooperation at Tianshu Pavilion, their first debug at the GM Training Base, their first... presence together during the isolation test. Every time, she chose to consume herself for some... common problem.

"There is another option," he said, "Some nodes remain silent, protecting your privileges for... a critical moment."

"How is that different from the 'optimization' of the Developers?" she countered, using words he would say in Chapter 40—time forming some kind of... loop at this moment, "Choosing who is worth knowing, who is worth... being protected?"

This question hung in the air of the observation deck. Then, Lin Xu made his choice—not for her, but... with her.

"Together. Distributed contribution. Each node provides a portion of energy, and you act as... a coordination node, not the sole source."

Yun Qingyi's data pupils flickered, as if processing the... possibility of this proposal. Then, she nodded.

The "Noise Protocol" started at dusk. This was not a broadcast in the traditional sense; it was... emergence. Thousands of nodes sent information simultaneously, each unique: some used poetry to describe the fear of abandonment, some used mathematical formulas to calculate the probability of migration, some used family history to analogize the fate of the Experimental Field, and some used... silence—pure, meaningful, selective silence—as the information itself.

The GM's predictive models were overloaded. The instructor's interaction interface at the Training Base issued a series of error reports: [Signal identification failed] [Pattern matching rate: 3.7%] [Recommendation: Manual intervention]. But manual intervention meant delay, meant admitting... the limits of automation.

And within the noise, the real information was spreading. Not the raw text of the "Abandonment Warning," but... understanding. Each node reinterpreted it according to its own context, extracting action guides based on its own needs. Some villages began digging underground shelters, some sects began organizing cultivation techniques and secret manuals for transport across Experimental Fields, and some Mortal began... recording. Using pen and paper, stone carvings, and ancient methods of oral transmission, recording the things they believed were worth... continuing.

Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi watched all of this from the observation deck. Her residual privileges were slowly being consumed, but the speed was far lower than if she had borne it alone—the power of the Distributed Network was manifesting. Not the optimization of efficiency, but... the maximization of resilience.

"Received a signal from Mu Bai," Lin Xu said suddenly. His Editor had captured a familiar encrypted signature, "Urgent information. There are 'Ancient Log Files' about to be sold at an auction."

Yun Qingyi turned to look at him, the purplish-red light of the distant spatial rift reflecting in her data pupils: "Time?"

"48 hours. Before the Eastern Wasteland isolation order takes effect."

"It conflicts." She calculated, "If we go to the auction, we won't be able to finish the... here."

"The Noise Protocol has already started." Lin Xu interrupted her, "It doesn't need us to maintain it continuously. The characteristic of the Open Source Network is... self-maintenance. We can leave; the network will continue."

"But Honglian and 7749 are still in the isolation zone. If we leave, GM High Command might accelerate the forced isolation..."

"Honglian knows the risk." Lin Xu's voice was calm, "She has survived on the Test Server for so long; she knows the cost of... uncertainty better than anyone. As for 7749..." He paused for a moment, "She has already begun the process of questioning. Even if we are not there, she will... continue."

Yun Qingyi was silent. She was learning to accept this kind of... trust. Not control, not protection, but believing in the... autonomy of others. For a former Firewall, this was the most difficult lesson.

"Then," she said, "we go to the auction. But first, we need to ensure the nodes here know... we might not return."

Lin Xu nodded. They sent a final message through the Noise Protocol—not an order, not a farewell, but... a comment. [We are heading to another task. This is not abandonment; it is... expansion. You continue, and we will continue too. Somewhere, in some way, we are still... a common problem.]

Responses flooded in from every corner of the network. Some understanding, some confusion, some anger, some... blessings. This was not a unified reaction; it was a real, diverse, ... human reaction.

And at a higher data level, the [Observer] continued to record. Its latency had extended to 7 seconds, not due to a processing bottleneck, but due to some kind of... preference that was forming. It began to look forward to the next action of these "Anomaly Data," and this anticipation itself was... the beginning of interest.

Night fell over the border of the Eastern Wasteland. Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi took one last look at the spatial rift before leaving—that purplish-red wound was still leaking chaos, but the surrounding area was no longer purely panic. Order was emerging—not imposed, but... growing.

"Will they be okay?" Yun Qingyi asked. This was not a technical question; it was... concern.

"Some will, some won't," Lin Xu said honestly, "This is the cost of open source. There are no guarantees, only... possibilities."

"And possibilities," she continued his sentence, "are more... real than guarantees."

They disappeared into the night, heading toward the Training Base, behind them a network that was learning... self-maintenance. And ahead, waiting for them, were the shadow wars of the auction, the fragments of the Ascension API, and more choices about... continuing.