191: Chapter 190 Performance Report and Resource Administrator

The headquarters of the Executive Court is not built on a planet, nor is it suspended in space. It is located within a conceptual singularity—a non-space composed of pure rules and logic, with its entrance being any door marked "Absolute Justice."

From the perspective of the physical universe, Ashes simply walked into an ordinary storage room on the seventh level of the Cradle; however, from a conceptual level, he crossed seventeen dimensional faults and stood in the central hall of the "Eternal Balance."

The hall has no walls or ceilings, only an infinitely extending white grid spreading in all directions. Suspended at each grid node is a holographic filing cabinet, sealing away the judgments of a civilization, the mediation records of a conflict, or the final words of an extinct species.

In the air (if it even exists) floats the low, ceaseless echo of arbitration words, like the background chanting of countless trials happening simultaneously.

Ashes' debriefing room is a temporarily generated node on the grid—four floating chairs surround a translucent round table, where three people are already seated.

In the main seat is the third chair of the Executive Court, the Arbiter "Anvil," an old man whose form is like carved rock, his face covered in metal seams. He is the representative of the conservative faction, advocating for "strictly following existing regulations and minimizing intervention."

To the left is the seventh chair, "Shuttle," a woman with a blurred face whose body is composed of flowing data. She is of the reformist faction, often proposing to "update the Executive Court's operations manual based on new situations."

To the right is Ashes' direct superior—the head of the Executive Court's field department, "Broken Sword," a middle-aged man with one eye, half an ear missing, but eyes as sharp as a hawk's. He belongs to the pragmatist faction, and his catchphrase is "A method that can solve the problem is a good method."

"Ashes, report number EX-4471, regarding the Dragon Country Civilization and related events." Anvil spoke, his voice like two stones rubbing together. "Begin."

Ashes opened the data pad. He had already streamlined the debriefing report, but none of the core content was removed: how humans used "cafeteria recordings" and "workplace anxiety" to contaminate the emotional sponge during the Graveyard Operation; how they used "chili sauce" and "budget dispute recordings" to stay awake under the attack of Sweet Nothingness; the philosophical live stream after the birth of the emotional aggregate; and the possible existence of a "Resource Administrator" behind the Pruning Faction.

He spoke for twenty minutes. During this time, Anvil's metal brows furrowed tighter and tighter, Shuttle's data body fluctuated at an increasing frequency, and only Broken Sword listened expressionlessly the entire time.

After he finished, the room was silent for ten seconds.

Then Anvil said: "So your conclusion is—this newborn civilization, using a series of absurd, and even childish methods that do not conform to any tactical manual, successfully defended against two high-level conceptual attacks, accidentally transformed a dangerous area, and obtained cultural protection recognition from the web weaver protocol?"

"Yes." Ashes nodded.

"And you believe these 'methods' have promotional value?" Anvil's voice carried obvious skepticism.

"It's not about promoting the 'specific methods'." Ashes corrected, "It's about promoting the mindset behind them: maintaining flexibility within the framework of rules, using non-standard resources to deal with non-standard threats, and—cherishing those seemingly meaningless daily details, because they might be the only ammunition against grand narrative weapons."

Shuttle's data body brightened for a moment: "Are you referring to the 'Braised Egg Defense Theory'?"

"I am referring to the 'Specificity Defense Theory'." Ashes pulled up the data, "The essence of the Sweet Nothingness attack is to use highly abstract, highly beautified 'fantasies of universal comfort' to cover up the concrete survival experiences of individuals. And human defense uses extremely concrete 'life fragments'—spiciness, noise, interpersonal friction—with strong sensory imprints to anchor the sense of reality."

He played a recording: the shouting of Great Strength in the cafeteria, the clattering of meal trays, and the gasping of Zhou Zhe crying from the spiciness.

"These sounds have no strategic value, no technical content." Ashes said, "But they represent one thing: these people are still living earnestly, being serious about the taste of their next meal, being serious about whose braised egg is bigger. This kind of 'seriousness' cannot be corroded by abstract comfort."

Anvil was silent.

Broken Sword finally spoke, his single eye staring at Ashes: "What specific intelligence do you have on the 'Resource Administrator' behind the Pruning Faction?"

Ashes pulled up the analytical tapestry provided by GW-002: "According to the deep data tracing of the web Weaver network, 'Resource Administrator' is not an organization, but a qualification—only 'Ancient Sages Civilizations' that have reached a civilization level of 2.5 or higher and have had no major internal conflicts for 100,000 consecutive years can obtain this title. There are currently seven known ones, and they form the 'Eternal Council,' nominally responsible for coordinating the allocation of cosmic resources, but in reality..."

He paused: "They tend to believe that newborn civilizations are 'unstable variables of resource consumption' and should be guided toward low-energy, low-risk development models. 'Sweet Nothingness' is one of the 'civilizational behavior correction tools' they approved for development."

Shuttle's data body fluctuated violently: "This violates the basic convention of the Covenant Network—the right to autonomous development of civilizations!"

"But they use 'voluntary choice'." Ashes released a video: in a certain star sector, after coming into contact with a variant of Sweet Nothingness, three newborn civilizations voluntarily voted to "pause technological development and focus on art and meditation." The people in the video had satisfied smiles and peaceful eyes.

"There is no violence, no coercion, not even obvious external intervention." Ashes said, "They were simply shown a 'more relaxed way of life,' and then chose that path themselves."

Anvil said slowly: "If this is the civilization's own choice, the Executive Court has no right to interfere. Our principle is 'not to actively influence the development trajectory of civilizations'."

"But what if that 'choice' is made under information asymmetry and precisely designed emotional induction?" Ashes retorted, "It's like giving a child who has never tasted sugar an unlimited supply of candy, and then asking him, 'Do you want to eat candy forever?' Of course he will say 'Yes'."

"Do you have evidence that this is induction?"

"The emotional aggregate is the evidence." Ashes pulled up the final segment of the Graveyard live stream—the moment the aggregate said "meaning is something you grow," and the faint resonance of the surrounding debris, "Those extinct civilizations, at the last moment, if they had the chance to choose again... they might still choose to 'live on with difficulty' rather than 'die in comfort.' But Sweet Nothingness did not give them that opportunity—it skipped the 'difficult' option entirely and only showed 'comfort'."

The debriefing room fell silent again.

After a long time, Broken Sword said: "Ashes, what do you personally suggest the Executive Court do in response?"

Ashes took a deep breath: "First, upgrade the danger rating of 'Sweet Nothingness' type protocols from 'non-lethal emotional influence' to 'potential civilizational domestication weapon.' Second, allow frontline executors to use non-standard defensive means when encountering similar attacks—including but not limited to using daily memory anchoring, sensory stimulation to maintain wakefulness, etc. Third..."

He hesitated for a moment, but then said it: "Third, consider establishing deeper cooperation with the Dragon Country Civilization. They may be the civilization currently known to have the highest resistance to such attacks. Not because they are stronger, but because they are... more 'vulgar'."

"'Vulgar'?" Shuttle asked curiously.

"So vulgar that even cosmic-level fantasies of comfort cannot compete with the temptation of a bowl of hot and sour glass noodles." Ashes said, "This kind of 'vulgarity,' in the current environment, may be the most precious and scarce quality."

Anvil did not express an opinion. He stood up, his rocky body casting a heavy shadow on the grid floor.

"We will review your report. Before the results are out, you will temporarily remain at headquarters to participate in the compilation of the 'New Conceptual Weapon Response Manual'."

Ashes' heart sank—this meant he couldn't return to the Cradle in the short term.

"Then as for the Dragon Country..."

"The observation team is still there, and Aurora will continue to fulfill her duties." Anvil turned around, "As for you—when writing the manual, remember to include the 'Braised Egg Defense Theory.' Use rigorous wording."

After saying this, he disappeared into the depths of the grid.

Shuttle winked at Ashes (the light spots on her data body flickered): "Anvil not directly denying it is the greatest affirmation. The last time he spoke like this was when he agreed to provide emergency relief supplies to a near-extinct civilization."

She also left. Only Broken Sword and Ashes remained.

Duan Jian pulled a small iron box from his pocket, opened it, and inside were a few shriveled things that looked like dried fruit.

He handed one to Ashes: "Try it. A specialty from my home planet, called Bitter-Sweet Seed. Hold it in your mouth; for the first ten minutes, it's so bitter you'll want to cry, but for the next ten minutes, a hint of sweetness that is almost imperceptible will emerge."

Ashes took it and put it in his mouth. Instantly, an extreme bitterness exploded, like swallowing a mouthful of concentrated coptis mixed with metal slag.

He held back, refusing to spit it out.

Ten minutes later, the bitterness gradually faded, and a trace of subtle sweetness did indeed emerge from the depths of his tongue—very faint, but real.

"Our civilization was once almost destroyed by an Eternal Bliss protocol," Duan Jian said calmly, "Everyone was immersed in endless sensory pleasure, stopping production, stopping reproduction, stopping thinking. In the end, it was an old chef who boiled a pot of soup with these Bitter-Sweet Seeds and forcibly fed it to the whole city—the bitterness awakened their pain receptors, which interrupted the state of bliss."

He looked at Ashes: "I understand the specificity you mentioned in your report. Sometimes, a civilization needs a little bitterness to remember who it is."

"Then do you support my suggestion?"

"I support any suggestion that can improve survival rates." Duan Jian stood up, a hint of exhaustion flashing in his single eye. "But Anvil is right, the Executive Court cannot intervene proactively. The most we can do... is to open a green channel for suffering behavior within the scope permitted by the rules."

He patted Ashes on the shoulder: "Write the manual well. Especially the chapter on How to Legally Use Daily Memories as Defensive Weapons—maybe next time there's an assessment, I'll add it to the mandatory field courses."

Duan Jian also left.

Ashes sat alone in the debriefing room, the Bitter-Sweet Seed in his mouth had dissolved, leaving only that faint, elusive sweetness.

He opened his data pad and began to write the first chapter of the manual:

【 Guide to Non-Standard Concept Defense (Trial Version) 】

【 Chapter One: Specificity of Anchoring Reality 】

【 Principle: When encountering temptations of abstraction, beauty, or lack of pain, actively recall a specific, trivial, or even slightly annoying event. 】

【 Example: Recalling that the cafeteria food was too salty last week, recalling that party a changed the requirements for the eighteenth time, recalling the sharp pain of stubbing a toe on the corner of a table. 】

【 Principle: Specificity counters abstraction, and a sense of reality counters a sense of fantasy. 】

Halfway through writing, he received an encrypted message from the Cradle.

It was from Zhao Yan, with only one photo: In the cafeteria, Great Strength was holding up a super spicy marinated egg, grinning at the camera. Below the photo was a line of small text:

"The new batch of marinated eggs is 300% spicier, codenamed The Awakened One. Is Teacher Ashes coming back for quality inspection?"

Ashes looked at the photo, the corners of his mouth lifting involuntarily.

He replied:

"Save two. When I get back, the inspection standard: you must cry after one bite."

After sending, he continued writing the manual.

His pen strokes were firm.

At the same time, the Cradle.

Lin Shen received an emergency communication from GW-002.

This time, 002 rarely used video mode—although the image was still a mass of constantly changing color blocks, at least there was movement.

【 Mr. Lin Shen, I have two pieces of news. One good, one bad. 】

【 The good news is: The emotional aggregate's live broadcast has attracted the attention of an Ancient Sages civilization within The Council. The other party has sent a formal contact request, wanting to have a philosophical dialogue with the aggregate—and the Gardener behind it. 】

Lin Shen frowned: "Ancient Sages civilization? Is it one of the Resource Managers?"

【 Yes. But this one is quite special—its title is Wandering Poet, and it belongs to the minority in The Council, often questioning the civilization domestication policy. It believes that civilizations should grow freely like weeds, even if they grow crooked. 】

【 It watched the aggregate's speech on 'Meaning is Cultivated', and said 'This is the most poetic philosophy I have heard in one hundred thousand years'. 】

"And the bad news?"

【 The bad news is: The other six members of The Council have become wary of human civilization. They believe you have 'corrupted' the emotional aggregate and indirectly disrupted the testing of Sweet Nothingness in multiple star sectors. 】

【 They are deliberating a proposal, which states: 'Implement targeted resource restrictions on Dragon Country Civilization', on the grounds that—your development model 'consumes too much energy and may pollute the stability of other civilizations'. 】

The color block fluctuated violently:

【 Simply put, they might... cut your power. 】

Lin Shen was silent.

The cosmic-level "parents" were starting to sanction the disobedient "child". Not with weapons, but in a more civilized way—cutting off your resource supply to see if you can still hop around.

【 However, don't worry too much. 】 002 added, 【 The Wandering Poet indicated that it would vote against it. And there are several nodes in the web weaver protocol that support you—including me. We can help you... 'steal electricity' in the resource network. 】

"Steal electricity?"

【 It means using loopholes in the rules to quietly divert idle energy from other regions to the Cradle. 】 002's voice sounded a bit embarrassed, 【 Although it's not honorable, when dealing with dishonorable sanctions, the methods can be flexible. 】

Lin Shen suddenly remembered Stardust's famous quote: "Use party a's resources to decorate party a's house".

Now it was upgrading to: "Steal party a's electricity to power the project party a doesn't like".

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

【 First, prepare for the dialogue with the Wandering Poet. The other party specifically named the person who 'grew the potato flowers'—which is Zhou Zhe. 】

【 Second, accelerate your own energy independence plan. I remember you have projects for 'emotional energy recycling' and 'plant symbiotic power generation'? 】

"They are already being tested."

【 Then put them into practical use as soon as possible. 】 002 said, 【 In addition, I suggest you... formally hire the emotional aggregate. 】

"Hire?"

【 Yes. Give it the title of 'Civilization Diplomatic Envoy', and let it represent you to conduct 'informal artistic exchanges' with other civilizations. 】

【 This way, if The Council wants to sanction you, they have to consider first—are they sanctioning a civilization, or are they sanctioning an 'emotional artist protected by galactic culture'. 】

Lin Shen understood. This was playing the cultural card, using an art shield to block political sanctions.

"Will the aggregate agree?"

【 I asked. Its reply was— 】

002 played a recording.

In the aggregate's mixed voice, there was a rare, clear smile:

"Do I sign a contract? Are there five social insurances and one housing fund? Is there compensatory time off for overtime?"

"If there is, I'll take the job."

Lin Shen laughed.

Even a mass of emotions knows how to negotiate benefits. That's very party b.

"We'll draft the contract," he said, "The five social insurances and one housing fund will follow the standards of the web weaver protocol. Overtime... as little as possible, but if it's required, triple emotional energy compensation."

【 It says deal. 】 002 paused, 【 Also, the potatoes asked me to pass on a message: Their 'Anti-Comfort Patrol' has been formed, and they are asking if the patrol range can be expanded to the perimeter of the Cradle. 】

"How do they want to patrol?"

【 Driving carts equipped with loudspeakers, playing budget meeting recordings and chili sauce advertisements, circling along the defensive perimeter. 】 002 added, 【 Potato Chief says this is called 'creating a healthy atmosphere of anxiety'. 】

Lin Shen rubbed his forehead: "Approved. But control the volume, don't interfere with normal communications."

【 Understood. 】

The communication ended.

Lin Shen walked to the window. Outside, under the lights of the hydroponic area, he could see the potatoes' carts already lined up, with homemade small flags inserted on the front of the carts, with a cartoon potato crying from spiciness drawn on the flags.

And in the depths of the starry sky further away, a war over whether civilization should "grow freely" or be "pruned neatly" had just escalated from violent conflict to a game of rules.

He pulled up the technology tree system, watching the slowly growing "emotional symbiosis technology" branch.

Then, he sent a message to Zhou Zhe:

"Prepare yourself. You are going to represent humanity and discuss 'how to grow potato flowers so they look good' with a 100,000-year-old Ancient Sages poet."

"Remember, the other party is party a. But this time—we are the technical consultants."

A few seconds later, Zhou Zhe replied:

"...Can I bring marinated eggs as a gift?"

Lin Shen laughed.

"Bring them. The spiciest kind."

"Let the old one also taste what 'the taste of sobriety' is."

Outside the window, the first cart of the potato patrol team started.

From the loudspeaker came β-2's calm recording:

"Please note, the comfort index is rising. Now playing defensive audio: Excerpts from the project team's seventh requirement change meeting—"

Then came the noisy arguing, table-slamming, and a clear "This requirement cannot be done!"

The sound echoed in the night of the Cradle.

Like a war song, resisting domestication.