197: Chapter 196 The Final Test and the Universe of a Bowl of Noodles

The spectacle of Iron Abacus’s arrival was so grand that even Stardust clicked its tongue: "Good grief, are they here for an inspection or an ascension?"

Around the outer perimeter of the main port, twelve pure gold frigates with intricate geometric patterns flowing on their surfaces deployed in a circular formation, each emitting energy fluctuations that screamed, 'Don't mess with me, I'm expensive.' When the central flagship, 'Eternal Scales,' slowly docked, even the Cradle's artificial gravity field distorted for a brief moment—a ripple in spacetime caused by excessive mass.

The hatch opened. Two squads of mechanical guards emerged, holding not weapons, but audit scepters with scrolling numbers. They were followed by eight accompanying scribes from the Ancient Sages Council, each clutching data slates as thick as city walls. Finally, Iron Abacus itself appeared.

Its mechanical form was different from its agent, abacus; it was more... concrete.

It was a humanoid figure outlined in pure golden light. Its features were indiscernible, but one could clearly feel two scrutinizing gazes. The robe it wore wasn't made of fabric, but of flowing mathematical formulas and financial tables, with every line of numbers updating in real-time. In its hand, it held a crystal-clear scepter, the head of which was a constantly rotating balance, supporting stars on one end and numbers on the other.

There were no footsteps. It hovered three centimeters above the ground, and wherever it passed, glowing text of temporary audit clauses automatically appeared on the floor.

Lin Shen led the team to a halt ten meters away and bowed slightly according to etiquette: "Your Excellency Eternal Vault, welcome to the Cradle."

Iron Abacus's gaze swept over everyone, finally resting on Lin Shen's face. Its voice sounded directly, like countless abacus beads clicking simultaneously:

"Time is limited. Let's begin immediately."

There were no pleasantries, no small talk. Utter efficiency, utter indifference.

Inspection Station One: Poetic Power Generation Array Control Room.

The array was already running at full power, with rainbow-colored halos circulating in the room. Iron Abacus stood before the console, raised a golden arm, and tapped its scepter lightly. A beam of light shot into the array's core, beginning to read all the underlying data.

"Efficiency reading: 0.357." Its voice was calm and waveless. "Exceeds standard requirements by 19%. However, according to the 'Abnormal Energy Output Review Regulations,' any excess exceeding 15% requires a 'technical authenticity verification.'"

It tapped the scepter again. Three transparent isolation chambers rose beside the array, each sealing a cluster of pure emotional samples: pure joy (a recording of a baby's first laugh), pure sadness (a monologue from an old person about their departed partner), and pure anger (a clip of Zhao Yan smashing a table after being angered by party a).

"Use these three samples to run the power generation units separately," Iron Abacus said. "I want to see the conversion curve of extreme emotions."

This was a blatant scheme. If the humans' previous data had been faked or manipulated, the efficiency would inevitably plummet when faced with such singular, extreme emotions.

Zhou Zhe took a deep breath and initiated the test.

Round one: Joy. The array halo turned a warm orange-yellow, and the output efficiency stabilized at 0.341—a slight drop, but still at a high level.

Round two: Sadness. The halo turned Deep Blue; efficiency was 0.339.

Round three: Anger. The halo turned crimson, the array even emitted a faint hum, and the efficiency... 0.362.

"Anger has the highest energy density," Zhou Zhe explained. "Because it contains a strong driving force to 'change the status quo.'"

Iron Abacus was silent for three seconds. It tapped the scepter again, calling up a comparative data sheet: "The 'standard anger sample' conversion efficiency of The Council's direct energy stations is 0.301. You are 20% higher. Explain."

Explain? How could they explain this? Should they say, "Because we, party b, are often infuriated by party a, our anger refinement technology is more mature"?

Just as Zhou Zhe was stuck, the projection of β-2 suddenly spoke:

"The reason lies in the difference in the 'concreteness' of the emotional sampling source." She pulled up two waveforms. "The Council's standard samples are collected from 'simulated anger scenarios,' which are abstract, uniform emotional fluctuations. Our samples come from real work conflicts, containing specific objects, events, and unfulfilled demands—this kind of 'targeted anger' has a tighter energy structure, so the conversion rate is naturally higher."

Iron Abacus's formula robe fluctuated: "So your technical advantage is built upon... unpleasant workplace experiences?"

Zhou Zhe braced himself: "You could say that. But we also used it to convert joy and sadness."

"Interesting." Iron Abacus turned around. "On to the next point."

Station Two: Potato Photosynthesis Power Grid Control Center.

The hydroponic area was eerily quiet at this moment. All the potatoes had entered "professional mode"—their leaves were stretched to the optimal angle, their roots neatly arranged, and even their consciousness channels had switched to a serious work reporting frequency.

Potato Chief personally served as the commentator, holding an electronic slate with its roots, on which data was scrolling:

[Current Grid Contribution Rate: 12.3%]

[Stability Index: 99.7%]

[Potato Laborer Satisfaction: 85% (deducted for appearance loss penalty)]

Iron Abacus's gaze fell on those potatoes. With a light wave of its scepter, a scanning beam enveloped the nearest potato. Three seconds later, data popped up:

[Biological Consciousness Level: Primary Aggregate]

[Labor Output/Energy Consumption Ratio: 3.7 (Higher than standard value 2.1)]

[Labor Contract Compliance: 100%]

"Plant laborers." There was a hint of something resembling "surprise" in Iron Abacus's voice for the first time. "And they signed contracts."

"According to the 'Basic Law of Cross-Species Labor Cooperation,' this is legal." Chu Yunshen timely handed over a thick copy of the agreement. "All terms have been negotiated by both parties and filed at Weaver node GW-002."

Iron Abacus didn't take the agreement, but instead asked Potato Chief: "Why are you willing to work?"

Potato Chief's roots quickly scratched on the electronic slate:

[Because work can be exchanged for nutrient solution, vacations, and the museum.]

[Also because if we don't work, we will be made into potato chips.]

[But we mainly do it for the museum.]

"The museum?"

[To record our contributions.] Potato Chief's handwriting became a bit solemn, [To let future potatoes know that we once lit up the stars.]

Iron Abacus was silent. On its formula robe, a few lines of numbers suddenly stopped updating, as if it were thinking.

After a long while, it said: "Plants pursuing immortality... rare."

Just then, a sudden change occurred.

The lights in the hydroponic area suddenly went out completely. It wasn't a power outage; the light source itself had been "sucked away" by some force. A sweet, cloying scent permeated the darkness—it was Sweet Nothingness, but the concentration was ten times higher than before!

"Defend!" Zhao Yan immediately drew his gun, but before his finger could pull the trigger, he felt a strong wave of fatigue wash over him. It wasn't sleepiness, but a gentle surrender of "Just let it go, nothing matters."

Even the potatoes' leaves began to droop. Potato Chief's electronic slate fell to the ground, and its roots curled up powerlessly.

Iron Abacus remained unmoved. Its golden figure was like a lone lamp in the darkness, but it clearly had no intention of interfering—this was an inspection, and any external interference could affect its judgment.

In the darkness, soft laughter came:

"Why work so hard... Isn't it nice to accept comfort?"

The voice came from all directions, impossible to locate.

Was it the Pruning Faction? Or opposition forces within The Council?

Lin Shen gritted his teeth and pressed the emergency button in his pocket. Toward the cafeteria, Great Strength received the signal.

Thirty seconds later, the cafeteria's ventilation system started at full power.

But it wasn't exhaust; it was air supply.

What it delivered was the steam from the "Awakened Series 2.0" braised eggs just out of the pot.

The piping hot, rich aroma mixed with the explosive fragrance of chili, Sichuan peppercorn, ginger, and garlic, like an invisible wall, rammed violently into the darkness.

The cloying sweetness was torn apart by the spiciness.

There was a muffled grunt in the darkness—the caster clearly hadn't expected this kind of counterattack.

The lights returned.

In the center of the hydroponic area, there was one more person.

No, not a person. It was a being in a white robe with a blurred face, its body like a lump of congealed cream, coughing violently while covering the position of its "face."

"Cough, cough... what... what is this stuff, so pungent..."

Iron Abacus's golden gaze turned to that person: "'Ease Weaver.' Assistant to the Seventh Seat of The Council. Who allowed you to come here?"

Ease Weaver barely stood straight, its voice still trembling: "I... I just wanted to help Your Excellency Iron Abacus create a... more comfortable inspection environment..."

[part:gemini-3.0-flash]

"I don't need it." Iron Abacus tapped the scepter lightly, and a golden light bound the other party. "Interfering with the inspection; detained according to regulations. After this is over, I will personally ask the Seventh Seat for an explanation."

He looked at Lin Shen: "Your defense methods... are very special."

Lin Shen wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Adapting to local conditions."

The inspection continued, but the atmosphere had changed.

Third stop: Main Conference Room - Ultimate Defense

On both sides of the long table, one side was Iron Abacus and the accompanying secretaries, and the other side was Lin Shen's team. In the center of the table sat a bowl of yangchun noodle—just made by Great Strength, still steaming. This was a prop that Zhou Zhe insisted on placing there.

"Now, explain your 'Poetic Power Generation Principle'," Iron Abacus said. "In a way I can understand."

Zhou Zhe stood up and walked to the yangchun noodle.

He didn't touch the data pad but instead pointed at the bowl of noodles:

"This bowl of noodles and our power generation technology share the same core logic."

The secretaries showed expressions of "here we go again."

But Iron Abacus's golden gaze stared at the noodle bowl, and He said nothing.

"A good bowl of noodles needs three elements: Clear Broth, Texture, and Vitality," Zhou Zhe said. "Clear Broth is pure emotion collection—removing impurities and retaining the essence. Texture is the structural processing of Poem Markings encoding—giving emotional fluctuations a transmissible resilience. Vitality is the perfect injection of energy—neither too much nor too little, just enough to trigger continuous conversion."

He pulled up the real-time monitoring screen of the power generation unit and placed it alongside the yangchun noodle production flowchart:

"Look here: the temperature curve during the broth brewing and the fluctuation curve during emotion data collection are almost identical in shape."

"The rotation frequency of the wrist while shaking the noodles and the iteration frequency of the Poem Markings encoding are both at the optimal point of 4.7 times per second."

"Finally, the technique for drizzling the soy sauce—slow, even, allowing the flavor to permeate naturally—has an error of less than 0.3% compared to our energy slow-release injection parameter settings."

Zhou Zhe looked up, meeting Iron Abacus's gaze directly:

"So this is not a metaphor. This is the manifestation of the same philosophy in different fields: maintaining the right amount of flexibility within a precise framework; respecting the individuality of the material itself within a standardized process."

The conference room fell silent.

The secretaries exchanged looks. They had prepared countless technical questions, but they never expected the other party to present a bowl of noodles for the defense.

The speed at which the formulas flowed on Iron Abacus's robe slowed down. After a long while, He said:

"Philosophy cannot pass an audit."

"But efficiency can." Zhou Zhe pulled up the final data. "Our power generation efficiency exceeds the standard by 19%, stability exceeds the standard by 31%, and the construction, operation, and maintenance costs are only 37% of The Council's equivalent projects. These are all auditable numbers."

"And more importantly—" He paused. "We have proven that 'impure' emotions, 'imperfect' materials, and even 'unwilling' laborers can all produce results higher than the standard, provided they are given the proper framework and respect."

"This is not just a technical breakthrough."

"This is a breakthrough in management philosophy."

The scales on Iron Abacus's scepter began to rotate on their own. The ends of stars and numbers rose and fell slightly, as if weighing the matter.

Just then, the conference room door was pushed open.

The Ancient Sages of Tranquil Garden—that mass of transparent flora—floated in. It didn't speak, but simply stood quietly beside Iron Abacus.

Then, the Wandering Poet's voice came through the communicator on speakerphone:

"Old Iron, that's about enough, isn't it? The kids have turned in the homework they should, and they've taken the beatings they deserved. If you keep making things difficult, word will get out that you're bullying newcomers, and it won't look good on you."

Iron Abacus's golden figure leaned back slightly against the chair—this was His first relaxed movement of the day.

"I have received the data," He finally said. "Technical validation: Pass. Efficiency exceeded expectations, stability reached the standard, and cost control is excellent."

"The Resource Restriction Order is officially lifted."

In the conference room, everyone sighed in relief simultaneously.

But Iron Abacus continued:

"However, according to the 'Technical Exchange Agreement', you must submit a complete Tech Open Package to The Council within ninety days. Meanwhile, The Council will dispatch a resident Technical Observer to supervise subsequent applications."

He looked at Lin Shen:

"As for the observer candidate, I recommend 'abacus'. It is familiar with your... work style."

This was a concession, but also surveillance. At least, it was not an enemy.

Lin Shen nodded: "We accept."

"One last point." Iron Abacus tapped the table lightly with the scepter. "That bowl of noodles... can you give me a portion?"

Zhou Zhe was stunned: "You... want noodles?"

"I want to analyze the quantitative parameters of 'Clear Broth, Texture, and Vitality'," Iron Abacus said solemnly. "If this philosophy truly possesses universality, perhaps it can optimize The Council's other projects."

After a pause, He added another sentence:

"Spiciness... adjust to medium."

When Great Strength received the news in the kitchen, his hand slipped, and he added an extra half-spoon of chili.

Three hours after the inspection ended.

Iron Abacus's fleet had departed. abacus stayed behind as the resident Technical Observer and was assigned a small office on the seventh floor—inside, a potted potato plant and a jar of "Awakened Series" marinated eggs had already been set out.

Potato Chief took the potatoes back into the hot springs to soak; this time, they were truly relaxed.

Zhou Zhe slumped in a chair in the canteen, a special celebration noodle from Great Strength set before him—this time it was a real "celebration noodle," with thick broth and smooth noodles, plus two marinated eggs.

Lin Shen and Chu Yunshen were organizing the follow-up documents. Ashes and Zhao Yan were checking the recovery of the defense system. Stardust floated near the canteen ceiling, his starlight pulsing as if he were snoring—he had contributed too many starlight crystals and truly needed to hibernate.

The projection of β-2 sat opposite Zhou Zhe, holding a virtual bowl of noodles, attempting to use an algorithm to simulate the "satisfaction of eating noodles."

The starry sky outside the window was still vast.

But tonight, the light of Cradle seemed a bit brighter than usual.

Zhou Zhe finished the last bite of noodles and drank all the soup.

Then he opened his personal log and wrote down today's summary:

[Inspection passed.]

[Restriction order lifted.]

[We won, relying on a bowl of noodles, a group of potatoes, and everyone who refused to kneel.]

[Tomorrow, abacus will formally begin its work.]

[And we must continue to be party b.]

[Because the universe, this party a, will always have new demands.]

[But it's okay.]

[We have already learned—]

[To find joy in demands,]

[To find gaps in rules,]

[To plant potato flowers in despair,]

[And to serve a piping hot, tear-inducingly spicy,]

[Living bowl of noodles during an audit.]

He closed the log.

The canteen lights went out one by one.

In the end, only the light in the kitchen remained on—Great Strength was preparing tomorrow's marinated eggs, humming an out-of-tune ditty.

Cradle fell asleep peacefully.

And in the distant Council sector, in Iron Abacus's private studio.

That bowl of yangchun noodle brought back from Cradle was placed inside a transparent analyzer. The curvature of every noodle, the molecular structure of every drop of soup, and even the trajectory of the rising steam were precisely measured.

The golden figure sat opposite, and the formula robe stopped flowing.

He raised a hand, hesitated for a moment, and then simulated a pair of chopsticks with energy, picked up a noodle, and sent it into His "mouth."

There was no taste module.

But the data analysis showed: the "structural integrity" of this bowl of noodles was 99.7%, the "energy distribution uniformity" was 98.2%, and the "balance coefficient of freedom and constraint" was... a value that had never appeared in the database.

Iron Abacus looked at that value.

Then, in His personal log, He entered a line of words:

[Today's inspection conclusion: This civilization's technical advantage stems from their instinct to refuse 'standardization'.]

[Recommendation: Observe, do not domesticate.]

[Note: The yangchun noodle analysis report has been archived, No. TECH-UNUSUAL-001.]

[Pending research project: Correlation between spiciness and alertness.]

He closed the log and turned His gaze toward the river of stars outside the window.

There, countless civilizations were growing.

Some were orderly, some were crooked.

Some were quiet, and some... were still coughing.

He watched for a while.

Then, for once, He did not continue working.

Instead, He allowed His consciousness to enter a brief, aimless drift.

As if savoring.

That noodle's.

Curvature.