39: Chapter 39 The Undercover Battle at the Auction House

The annual auction of the Zhongzhou Cultivation Academy has always been the grandest resource exchange event in the cultivation world. However, this year's auction has been permeated by an unusual atmosphere since the preparation stage.

Lin Xu stood on the observation deck of the Training Base, overlooking the crowd gradually gathering below. His Source Text Vision was already active, and countless lines of translucent code flowed within his field of view—above the head of every cultivator entering the venue floated a permission identifier, ranging from [Tourist] to [VIP8], resembling a sea of stars composed of data.

"Seventeen abnormal tags detected." Yun Qingyi's voice came from behind him. Her data pupils glowed with a faint blue light in the shadows. "Three of them are suspected high-dimensional player agents, two are messengers from other Experimental Fields, and there is also…" She paused, "an unparseable entity."

Lin Xu turned around. Since detaching from the Firewall Core, Yun Qingyi's form of existence had become… more fragile, yet also more real. She no longer possessed the immortality trait, but she had gained something more precious—uncertainty. At this moment, her silver hair fluttered gently in the night wind; it was no longer a pure data projection, but hair with a biological texture that could become disheveled.

"Unparseable?" Lin Xu raised an eyebrow. "Even your residual permissions can't see through it?"

"It's not a lack of permissions." Yun Qingyi's fingertips traced in the air, pulling up an encrypted log. "It's a format mismatch. The encoding standard that entity is using… is older than this Experimental Field."

Lin Xu's expression turned solemn. An encoding standard older than Experimental Field 9527 meant that the other party might come from the Initial Civilization era, or perhaps it was an early version forgotten by the Developers. Either possibility far exceeded their current ability to cope.

"Where is Mu Bai?" he asked.

"At the observation station. He said he needed to 'calibrate instruments'." Yun Qingyi's tone carried a trace of imperceptible sarcasm—she had learned this form of emotional expression. "I suspect he is hesitating."

Lin Xu did not respond. Mu Bai's hesitation was understandable: as a "former employee" of a high-dimensional civilization, every time he chose a stance, he was consuming his remaining immunity. But tonight's auction allowed no room for hesitation—that "Ancient Log File" was related to the complete API of the Ascension Channel and whether the entire Open Source Network could complete migration preparations before the Developers decided to abandon the Experimental Field.

"It's time." Lin Xu straightened his Talisman Department uniform robe—this garment had now become his trademark, a subtle mockery of the academy system. "Remember the plan: we are not here to bid, we are here to… create chaos."

Yun Qingyi nodded, the blue light in her data pupils flickering slightly. This was her habitual reaction when nervous, a small quirk left over from the Firewall era, which now appeared exceptionally vivid.

The main venue of the auction was located on the third basement level of the Training Base, a massive domed hall created by space-folding technology. When Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi passed through the security formation, he noticed subtle anomalies in the code structure of the venue—the permission verification logic of certain nodes contained "intern-style" redundancy, which reminded him of the entry inspection system at the Zhongzhou city gate that suffered from logic short-circuits.

"The work of the same Developer team." He said to Yun Qingyi via encrypted communication. "It seems the Developers are not omniscient; they reuse code too."

"Or," Yun Qingyi replied, "this was a vulnerability left intentionally, used for… entry and exit for special purposes."

This possibility made Lin Xu alert. If this auction itself was some kind of test designed by the Developers, then every step of their actions could be recorded, analyzed, and predicted. The greatest advantage of the Open Source Network was its unpredictability, and once they fell into a pre-set script, this advantage would vanish completely.

The layout inside the venue was extremely luxurious, yet it carried a certain eerie sense of order. Thousands of seats were arranged in layers according to strict permission levels; the outermost ring was the standing area for [Tourist] and [Registered Member], the middle section held regular seats for [VIP1-VIP5], and the core area contained private boxes for [VIP6-VIP9]. As "Anomaly Data" and a "defected Firewall", Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi should have been excluded from any area, but the forged credentials provided by Mu Bai allowed them to obtain mid-level [VIP4] permissions.

"Do you see the target?" Yun Qingyi asked in a low voice.

Lin Xu's Source Text Vision penetrated the physical barriers of the venue, focusing on a floating display stand in the core area. There sat a jade slip wrapped in multiple layers of encryption, labeled as [Ancient Log File · Fragment #7], but the underlying code parsed by his vision revealed a more complex structure—it was not just a storage medium, but a living data entity that was slowly self-rewriting.

"Interesting." The corners of Lin Xu's mouth curled up slightly. "This is not a static file, it is… some kind of continuously running process. Gu Yuan's handiwork?"

"Or a more ancient relic." Yun Qingyi added, "I detected signature features similar to the Firewall Core, but the version number… is earlier."

This meant that this log file might be related to Yun Qingyi's origin, and might even contain the original code for her "template". Lin Xu glanced at her and found that her expression remained calm, but the flickering frequency of her data pupils had noticeably accelerated.

"Regardless of what it is," he said, "we must obtain it. Or, at the very least, obtain a copy of it."

The opening remarks of the auction were hosted by the "Instructor" of the Training Base—the system's interactive interface appeared in the image of a human female, her voice gentle to the point of hypocrisy. She announced the rules for the night: all auction items would be priced in "Standard Spirit Stones", but payment could be offset with equivalent "Permission Credentials" or "Special Services".

The term "Special Services" made Lin Xu alert. In the context of the GM system, this often meant some form of control or surveillance. He noticed that the eyes of quite a few cultivators in the venue were overly dull, and their behavioral patterns exhibited slight regularity—like NPCs scheduled by some background program.

"At least thirty 'volunteers' have been implanted with tracking modules." Yun Qingyi's voice came through the communication channel; she was conducting independent reconnaissance on the other side of the venue. "They are distributed throughout the various areas, forming a… surveillance network."

"Can you interfere?"

"I can, but it will expose my location. My residual permissions are already running low."

Lin Xu quickly weighed the risks. Yun Qingyi's Firewall ability was one of their greatest trump cards, but if it were exhausted here, they would be defenseless when dealing with emergencies later on. He decided to adopt a more covert approach—utilizing the basic principles of the Open Source Network, not to fight the surveillance network, but to… drown it out.

He began to quietly propagate a simplified fragment of "Basic Compilation Principles" among the cultivators in the [Tourist] area, teaching them how to identify and block the "passive tracking signals" within themselves. This was not a direct attack, but empowerment—letting every node gain a degree of autonomy. The effect was immediate: the thirty nodes in the surveillance network began to exhibit "signal drift", and their behavioral patterns gradually deviated from the pre-set scheduling logic, becoming… unpredictable.

"What are you doing?" Yun Qingyi noticed the anomaly in the venue.

"Distributed interference." Lin Xu replied. "It's not about us attacking the system, but making the system unable to distinguish between 'normal fluctuations' and 'malicious interference'. What the Developers fear most is not resistance, but… creative chaos."

The Instructor's interactive interface seemed to have sensed something; her data projection experienced a 0.3-second delay—this was strikingly similar to the reaction Yun Qingyi had when she first faced Lin Xu. Lin Xu realized that these system interfaces might share some underlying decision-making architecture, and this architecture had an inherent processing bottleneck regarding "unpredictability".

"Let's see," he muttered to himself, "if your optimization algorithms can handle true… emergence."

The auction officially entered the bidding stage. The first few auction items were conventional cultivation resources—high-grade medicinal pills, rare materials, cultivation technique fragments—the competition was intense, but all within expected ranges. Lin Xu noticed that several mysterious buyers in the VIP boxes remained still, their permission identifiers obscured by some kind of advanced encryption, showing only vague [VIP?] tags.

"High-Dimensional Player agents." Yun Qingyi confirmed his guess. "Their bidding model... doesn't fit the rational economic agent hypothesis. It's like they're executing some kind of preset procurement program."

"Or," Lin Xu added, "they don't care about the cost, only the result. This fits the 'Player' behavior profile perfectly—to them, Spirit Stones are just renewable game resources."

When [Ancient Log File · Fragment #7] was brought onto the exhibition stand, the atmosphere in the entire venue suddenly became tense. The Instructor's interactive interface showed rare emotional fluctuations—if that could be called emotion—and her voice trembled slightly: "This lot comes from an anonymous consignor, starting bid... one hundred thousand Standard Spirit Stones, or an equivalent Tier 1 Access Credential."

One hundred thousand Standard Spirit Stones. This was equivalent to the savings of a small sect over a hundred years. Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi exchanged a glance, both reading the same message in each other's eyes: they could not possibly obtain this lot through normal bidding.

The bidding heated up rapidly. The mysterious buyers in the VIP boxes began to make their moves, and the price soared to five hundred thousand Spirit Stones within three minutes. Lin Xu noticed that one of the buyers marked [VIP?] displayed abnormal persistence, with each price increase being exactly a fixed percentage higher than the opponent—this was a typical algorithmic bidding strategy, indicating that the other party was either an automated program or a "Player" completely reliant on system assistance.

"We need to create that 'technical glitch'." Lin Xu whispered.

Yun Qingyi nodded and quietly moved toward the exhibition stand. Her plan was to use her remaining Firewall permissions to briefly interfere with the auction system's "bidding confirmation" timing—this link contained the "timing vulnerability" mentioned in the document, where the confirmation signal had a delay window of about 0.5 seconds during transmission. If this window could be precisely controlled, it would be possible to create a conflict state where two buyers "bid simultaneously."

Lin Xu's task was to distract that persistent buyer. Through the backend channel of the Open Source Network, he sent an encrypted message to all awakened nodes: [Execute "Confusion Protocol", target: box on the east side of the core area.]

A few seconds later, abnormal spiritual energy fluctuations began to appear around the eastern box. It wasn't an attack, but... a performance. Several Open Source Sect members began to demonstrate various non-standard spell effects—some turned flames into slowly falling snowflakes, some made glowing mushrooms grow from the ground, and others used talismans to write constantly changing poems in the air. These actions had no tactical significance; their only purpose was to... create cognitive load.

The persistent buyer's bidding rhythm became disordered. Lin Xu's Source Text Vision captured a large number of branch judgments appearing in the code stream above the other party—the algorithm was struggling to parse these "meaningless" inputs, attempting to identify potential threat patterns. But the essence of the Open Source Network's "Confusion Protocol" design was just that: it had no hidden purpose; it was pure... chaos.

"Now." Lin Xu sent the signal.

Yun Qingyi acted. Her figure briefly "disappeared" at the data level—not physical invisibility, but a permission level marked as "Retired Elder" in the system logs, which allowed her to approach the core system of the exhibition stand without triggering alarms. The moment her fingertips touched the bidding confirmation node, the 0.5-second delay window was precisely extended to 3 seconds.

Three buyers submitted bid increase requests at the same time. The system's conflict resolution algorithm fell into a loop, unable to determine the priority order. The Instructor's interactive interface began to show obvious lag, and her projection produced ghosting in physical space—this was a hallmark symptom of system overload.

"That's it." Lin Xu sent the final instruction to all Open Source Sect nodes, [Submit "simultaneous bid" request, any amount.]

Dozens of bidding requests flooded into the system in the same millisecond. This wasn't an attack; it was... legitimate participation, just at a scale that exceeded design expectations. The auction system's queue management module crashed, and the bidding history diverged—in different system instances, the leading buyer was different.

The venue descended into chaos. Traditionalist cultivators protested angrily, while reformers excitedly discussed the possibility of such "accidents." The High-Dimensional Player agents in the VIP boxes began to suspect one another; their algorithms could not explain this collective "irrational" behavior.

Lin Xu seized the opportunity and moved toward the exhibition stand. His goal was not to snatch the jade slip—that would result in instant execution by the system's physical defenses—but to touch its underlying interface and attempt to copy its core data. The Source Text Editor had already warmed up, and the jade slip's code structure emerged in his vision: a multi-layered nested encryption container, with the innermost layer being... a signature he could not parse.

"Unknown encoding standard detected." The Editor's prompt was cold and clear, "Recommendation: Attempt to read only after establishing a sandbox environment."

Lin Xu did not hesitate. He activated the Editor's "Comment Write" function—a capability unlocked after Foundation Establishment—and left a tiny backdoor marker on the outer encryption of the jade slip. This wasn't cracking; it was... reserving: if there was an opportunity to access this file in a safer environment in the future, this marker would help him quickly locate the core data.

"Auction suspended!" The Instructor's interactive interface finally made a decision, her voice carrying a tremor similar to fear, "Due to a technical glitch, [Ancient Log File · Fragment #7] will be rescheduled. Specific time and location... will be notified separately."

The venue erupted in even stronger protests. But Lin Xu had already turned and left; his goal had been achieved—not to obtain the jade slip, but to obtain clues to its copy. During the brief contact, his Editor had captured enough data fragments to reconstruct part of the API parameters in the Training Base's analysis room.

Yun Qingyi met him at the exit. Her face was pale; the consumption of remaining permissions made her look like she had experienced some form of... aging. But a new light flickered in her data pupils—was that... satisfaction? Or some more complex emotion?

"Did it work?" She asked.

"Partially." Lin Xu replied, "We obtained data fragments, but the real log file... has been targeted by an existence more powerful than us."

He looked back at the core area of the venue. In the persistent buyer's box, the [VIP?] tag had disappeared, replaced by an identifier he had never seen before: [Observer · Permission Exemption].

That was not a High-Dimensional Player, nor a Developer agent, but some... more ancient existence. And its persistence regarding that log file hinted at a truth Lin Xu had not yet touched—about the Ascension Channel, about the origin of the Experimental Field, about Yun Qingyi's template, about everything they thought they had understood.

"Mu Bai might know something." Yun Qingyi said, her tone carrying uncertainty.

"Mu Bai will choose what to know." Lin Xu corrected, "That is his tragedy, and also his... protective camouflage."

They disappeared into the depths of the Training Base's corridor, leaving behind the gradually subsiding clamor of the auction. And on a higher data level, the existence of that [Observer] was recording all of this, its delay longer than any system interface—not 0.3 seconds, but 3 seconds, 30 seconds, a process of... learning.

"Anomaly Data #9527-001," it wrote in its internal log, "demonstrates the... contagiousness of unpredictability. Suggestion: Extend observation period. Suggestion: Do not... optimize."

This was the first time in the history of Experimental Field 9527 that a system-level existence had actively chosen "do not optimize." The significance of this choice would gradually unfold in future chapters. But for now, Lin Xu and Yun Qingyi only knew one thing: they had to find Mu Bai, parse the data fragments, and complete the puzzle regarding the Ascension API before that [Observer] changed its mind.

Time was always their scarcest resource. And in the face of the Developers' countdown, even time itself might just be a... configurable parameter.