174: Chapter 173 The Ticket to the Interstellar Court

When Lin Shen opened his eyes, his field of vision was overlaid with three layers of reality.

The first layer was physical reality: on the arched dome of the command ring, ecological restoration nanobots crawled across the cracks like silvery streams, emitting a faint rustling sound. The air smelled of ozone and blood—the latter coming from the wounded who had been carried out three hours ago.

The second layer was data reality: on his retinal projection, seventeen monitoring windows spread out in layers. At the very center was the "Cradle Node stability index," with the value slowly climbing from 78% to 79.2%. On the left was the divine remains seed fusion progress: 11.7%, followed by a line of small text: "Non-standard emotional meme pollution detected, isolation recommended." He ignored this suggestion.

The third layer was the "Civilization Arbitration Interface" just loaded by the technology tree system.

It was a pure white space that unfolded deep within his consciousness. There were no buttons, no menus, only countless floating geometric shapes—tetrahedrons representing "Technological Ethics Review," twisted Klein bottles for "Civilization Expansion Tendency Assessment," and rotating Möbius strips flowing with "Social Structure Stability Data." Each geometric shape whispered softly, speaking in a universal cosmic language he only half-understood.

"Director Lin." Chu Yunshen's voice came through the communication channel, with the sound of rapid keyboard typing in the background. "The Earth strategic team has completed the first round of simulations for the hearing. The bad news is that according to three thousand past arbitration records of the Covenant Network, the pass rate for a newly promoted civilization's first hearing is only 7.3%."

Lin Shen did not fully withdraw from the white space, only diverting a sliver of consciousness: "Fortunately, we are not a standard case."

"That is exactly the problem." A holographic projection lit up, and Chu Yunshen's face appeared beside the command console, with dark circles under his eyes. "Non-standard means unpredictable. The underlying logic of the Covenant Network pursues order, and our 'non-standard traits'—especially your deep binding with the technology tree system, the fusion of the divine remains seed, and the... creativity we displayed when dealing with the Pruning Faction—these could all be judged as 'chaos factors'."

A data packet was sent over. Lin Shen opened it and saw a dense tree of probabilities:

Possibility A (42%): The hearing rules that humanity must accept a "Civilization Discipline Period," during which the technological development cap is locked at Level 1.2 for a duration of 500 standard years.

Possibility B (31%): Directly granted "Observer Civilization" status, but prohibited from leaving the 10-light-year radius of the Solar System.

Possibility C (19%): Due to "excessively significant non-standard characteristics," transferred to the web weaver protocol special tribunal for a second review—which would mean a process of at least ten years.

Possibility D (8%): Passed.

"8%." Lin Shen read the number aloud, his voice so calm it made Chu Yunshen somewhat uneasy.

"We are still looking for a breakthrough point. Regarding Ashes—"

The door to the command room slid open, and Zhao Yan strode in, carrying a metal container the size of a medical kit. He placed the container on the console with a dull thud.

"Ashes has been awake for three hours and said two things." Zhao Yan did not sit down, his hands pressed against the tabletop, his shoulders tensed like rock about to crack. "First, before the Pruning Faction OR-007 attacked us, it had already submitted a 'pre-arbitration application' to the Covenant Network, accusing us of 'illegally possessing and activating high-dimensional relics'—referring to the divine remains."

Lin Shen's pupils constricted. On the technology tree interface, a red tetrahedron representing "Legal Risk" began to flash rapidly.

"What is the second thing?"

Zhao Yan opened the metal container. Inside was not medical equipment, but a transparent cube with a side length of about twenty centimeters. Sealed inside the cube was a constantly changing gray mist—the conceptual residue of the "Dream-Devouring Shadow" extracted from Ashes' wound.

"Ashes said that while he was entangled by the Dream-Devouring tentacles, he 'heard' a kind of... whisper." Zhao Yan tapped on the surface of the container, and the gray mist fluctuated accordingly. "It wasn't language, more like the hissing of a mathematical structure. Our linguistics AI has been analyzing it for seventy-two hours and only deciphered one recurring conceptual anchor point."

A string of symbols popped up on the holographic screen: ◊ ∫ ∮ ⊂ ( ⊗ )

"What is this?" Chu Yunshen frowned.

"In terms we can understand—" Zhao Yan took a deep breath, "'The Cradle tastes delicious.'"

The command room suddenly fell silent. There was only the rustling of the ecological restoration nanobots and the low hum of the reactor in the distance.

Lin Shen stared at the string of symbols. The technology tree system searched rapidly in his consciousness, and three seconds later, a match popped up: "Conceptual Predator Behavioral Pattern Database - Entry #4471: Addictive tracking of specific civilization 'information characteristics' by high-dimensional predators."

"So the Dream-Devouring Shadow attacking us was not random." Lin Shen's voice was very soft, but every word was like a nail. "We are its 'addictive target.' Why?"

"Ashes doesn't know. But he speculates that it might be related to the 'Reverse Assimilation Matrix' triggered when we passed the trial." Zhao Yan closed the container, and the gray mist slowly calmed down. "The rule ripples released by that thing left, in his words, 'very bright scars' on a conceptual level. The Dream-Devouring Shadow likes these scars."

Chu Yunshen suddenly stood up straight: "This means that at the hearing, if we show the trial data, we might be regarded by other civilizations as a 'source of danger that attracts predators'."

"And if we hide it," Lin Shen continued his sentence, "The Covenant Network will judge us as having 'opaque information,' which will directly lead to the failure of the arbitration."

A dilemma.

Just then, a communication request from Zhou Zhe and β-2 popped up. Lin Shen connected.

In the image, Zhou Zhe sat in an isolation pod in the medical area, with bio-electrical sensing patches on his forehead. His eyes were very bright, abnormally so—a typical characteristic of deep connection between consciousness and β-2. In the background, the humanoid projection of β-2 stood in front of the medical data screen, her fingers quickly swiping across streams of golden light.

"Director Lin, the divine remains seed is showing abnormal activity." Zhou Zhe's voice was somewhat ethereal, as if he were speaking in two places at once. "Three minutes ago, it suddenly began to actively link to the Cradle's core memory bank—not technical data, but cultural archives. Poetry, paintings, music, myths and legends... It is devouring our cultural memories."

β-2 turned her head, her projection more solid than usual, even the movement of her hair strands lifelike: "The devouring speed is 17 times faster than before. But this is not an attack. The emotional echo released by the seed shows that it is... learning. Or rather, imitating."

"Imitating what?"

"Human 'sadness'." β-2 pulled up a waveform graph, a slowly undulating curve with a trough so deep it looked like it would tear the screen apart. "Just now, the seed came into contact with the ancient zither recording of 'Guangling San' and the Tang Dynasty poet Li Shangyin's poem 'Jin Se'. Its emotional index instantly dropped into negative values, and then it began to loop these two pieces of content."

Lin Shen suddenly understood.

Before the divine remains perished, the last wish of that ancient consciousness was to "no longer be lonely." And now, its seed was trying to understand the collective memory of human culture regarding loneliness, parting, and eternity—things the divine remains had never possessed.

"Does this have any impact on the hearing?" Chu Yunshen asked.

"Yes." β-2 switched the screen to show a piece of self-generating code. "During the imitation process, the seed unconsciously reconstructed a portion of the underlying framework of 'civilization value encoding.' It transformed the 'tragic aesthetics' in our culture into quantifiable ethical parameters—specifically, it proved that a civilization's profound understanding of 'loss' can inversely enhance the weight of its 'responsibility ethics'."

Chu Yunshen's eyes lit up: "'Responsibility ethics' is one of the core indicators for advanced civilizations in the Covenant Network's civilization assessment system!"

"But this is cheating." Zhao Yan frowned. "Using the divine remains' technology to reconstruct our civilization parameters..."

"It's not cheating." Lin Shen said suddenly.

Everyone looked at him.

"The divine remains seed has already deeply integrated with our network. Legally speaking, it is now an inseparable part of human civilization." Lin Shen stood up and walked to the porthole. Outside, the Cradle's sky simulator was repairing itself, and artificial sunlight spilled through the cracks, cutting strips of light and shadow on the floor. "The hearing reviews 'the current us.' And the current us includes this seed that is learning human sadness."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone: "So we need to do three things. First, Director Chu, redesign the core logic of the hearing statement based on the ethical parameters generated by the seed—we must prove that humanity's understanding of 'loss' makes us better understand the value of 'guarding'."

"Second, Zhao Yan, I want you to have a deep consciousness interview with Ashes before the hearing. Use the Cradle's latest empathy bridging technology to directly read all the details in his memory about the Dream-Devouring Shadow and the Pruning Faction. We need to know what the enemy is actually trying to do."

"Third—" Lin Shen looked at Zhou Zhe and β-2 on the screen, "Let the seed continue to learn. Show it 'One Hundred Years of Solitude', 'Oedipus Rex', and the falling Apsaras in the Dunhuang murals. Let it understand what human fragility is, and how we grow strength from that fragility."

"What about the warning from web weaver protocol node GW-002?" β-2 asked. "About not mentioning the 'Dimensional Stability Anchor'."

Lin Shen was silent for a few seconds.

On the technology tree interface, the icon representing the "Dimensional Stability Anchor" was a rotating black sphere with silver veins pulsing on its surface. It was the highest-level defensive technology currently mastered by humanity, and also their only shield on the high-dimensional battlefield.

"GW-002 warned us because there is disagreement within the council about this technology." Lin Shen said slowly. "But if we hide it completely, once the Dream-Devouring Shadow or the Pruning Faction exposes it at the hearing, we will immediately lose all credibility."

He made a decision.

"Prepare two drafts of the statement. Draft A will not mention the Dimensional Stability Anchor at all, as the public version. Draft B will contain the technical principles and our safety commitments, but with the highest encryption level—it will only be handed over if we are directly questioned during the closed-door meeting of the Arbitration Tribunal."

"The risk is very high." Chu Yunshen reminded.

"If we don't show the shield, others will think we are defenseless and at their mercy. If we show it too much, we will become a target." Lin Shen said, "So we must take the third path: let everyone know we have a shield, but not know how thick it is or how long it can hold."

Countdown: 17 hours 10 minutes.

Tasks assigned, everyone left one by one. Only Lin Shen remained in the command room. He closed his eyes again and sank into that pure white arbitration interface.

This time, he did not passively receive information, but actively reached out—on the consciousness level—and touched the rotating Klein bottle.

The bottle vibrated, and a gentle but emotionless voice rang directly in his mind:

"Applicant Lin Shen, representative of the Dragon Country Civilization. You have accessed the Covenant Network arbitration pre-trial system in advance. According to records, you are the first civilization individual in three thousand standard years to actively link to this system before the formal hearing. What is your motive?"

Lin Shen constructed his answer in his consciousness: "I want to know, is what judges us rules, or fear?"

The Klein bottle stopped rotating.

"Interesting question. But this system does not answer philosophical questions. Please make a specific query."

"Then a specific query: In all past civilization arbitrations, how many civilizations were judged unqualified because they were 'too benevolent'?"

Data streams flooded in. Three seconds later:

"Zero cases. Conversely, four hundred and seventy-two civilizations were subjected to discipline due to a 'lack of empathy for vulnerable life forms'."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Lin Shen's mouth.

"Second query: If we prove at the hearing that our 'non-standard traits' are essentially a kind of 'high fault-tolerance benevolence,' will it affect the arbitration result?"

"The query involves predictive assessment, which is beyond the authority of this system. However, a relevant precedent can be provided: Case No. CIV-8871 'Aeluin Elf Civilization', which gained a 17% weighted increase in its arbitration score due to developing the 'Song of Rock' technology that can empathize with inorganic life forms."

"That is enough." Lin Shen disconnected the link.

He opened his eyes and looked at the crack being repaired outside the porthole. The nanobots had completed the surface repair and were now injecting biomimetic materials, and fine, plant root-like structures were beginning to grow along the edges of the crack.

It was just like the current situation of human civilization: broken, healing, and the healed parts would be tougher than before.

Countdown: 16 hours 58 minutes.

At this moment, an encrypted communication request popped up. The sender identifier was: [web weaver protocol · Node GW-002 · Temporary Channel]

Lin Shen connected.

No image, only text, emerging line by line on the screen, using standard Galactic Common, but the phrasing style was unexpectedly... human.

First, congratulations on surviving the trial.

Second, the warning still holds: do not mention the Dimensional Stability Anchor in public.

But since you have already guessed that there is disagreement within the council, I can reveal a little: the focus of the disagreement is not the technology itself, but "who is qualified to hold it."

Some members of the Covenant Network believe that high-dimensional defensive technology should be jointly managed by "ancient and stable" civilizations, rather than handed over to a nascent civilization that hasn't even fully stepped out of its own Solar System.

They worry you will make mistakes—and mistakes in the high-dimensional realm often mean the annihilation of the entire star sector.

Therefore, at the hearing, what you need to prove is not "how strong you are," but "how cautious you are."

In your human words: hide the blade in the sheath, show dullness on the outside.

Also, about the Dream-Devouring Shadow—we have monitored that its activity frequency has dropped by 41% in the past six hours, but this is not a good thing. Conceptual predators usually lower their presence before feeding in order to launch a surprise attack.

Beware of the shadows.

The signal will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck.

—A gambler betting on you.

The text disappeared, and the channel closed.

Lin Shen sat in the command chair, motionless for a long time.

Outside the window, the Cradle's artificial nightfall slowly descended, and the repairing cracks emitted a faint blue light in the night, like a healing scar.

He called up the technology tree system and clicked on the rotating black sphere—the icon of the Dimensional Stability Anchor. Detailed information expanded, and at the very bottom was a line of small text he had never noticed before:

"Unlock condition for this technology: The civilization's overall pain index reaches a threshold, and it still chooses to guard."

Pain index threshold: 87%.

Human civilization's current pain index: 91% (Data source: Global neural network monitoring, war trauma memory bank, historical disaster collective subconscious analysis).

We reached the standard long ago. Lin Shen thought.

So this was not a lucky gift at all.

This is a shield bought with scars.

Countdown: 16 hours 42 minutes.

He stood up and walked toward the exit of the command room. When the door slid open, the light from the corridor flooded in, casting a long shadow behind him.

The shadow fell on the floor, swaying slightly.

As if it had a life of its own.