Chapter 389

Chapter 389: Secrets of the World’s Foundations

The phase engine rolled up the spacetime structure around the ship. A hyperspace bubble formed by warp space wrapped the Otherworld Hotel like a giant tower. Information from real space compressed at the bubble’s edge into a complete two-dimensional film of data. Across that thin membrane, the mysteries of the stars flowed like water, drowning Yu Sheng’s senses and mind.

His mind stayed highly synchronized with the ship as it traveled faster than light, a state no one else could understand or imagine. And because of that, no one had ever warned him that using a human mind to directly touch hyperspace was extremely dangerous.

Normally, anyone traveling faster than light would be inside a heavily protected vehicle. While creating warp space, the phase engine also generated a special force field that kept the hull intact. Another purpose of that field was to prevent the minds of people on board from touching the environment outside the ship—because the universe in a complete-mapping state was so dangerous that starlight projected at the edge of the bubble carried an information density that could drive you mad. Even a brief, accidental exposure would instantly melt a mortal mind in the stars’ whispering and flashing.

But who could have expected it?

A person’s mind could transfer onto a ship without obstruction, and even treat the ship as its own body.

Yu Sheng curiously studied the starlight flowing around him, watching it fill spacetime like a river with no beginning or end. In that moment, his sense of his body suddenly blurred. Whether it was the Otherworld Hotel in mid-jump, or the flesh body sitting on its bridge, both felt like abstract footnotes meant only to hold the concept of Yu Sheng.

His essence slipped free from that footnote and—just for this moment—wandered freely and joyfully through the world’s most basic structures.

Through the streaming starlight, he seemed to see the grand frameworks that upheld the order of the stars, that upheld time and space.

He couldn’t touch them, but he could see them. He couldn’t understand them, but he could read the echoes between them—records left behind from some eternal instant.

After hesitating for a long time, Yu Sheng extended his perception again. He tried to touch those flickering points of light and read the echoes between those unbelievable, world-supporting structures.

What a magnificent creation. What a staggering piece of engineering. The secrets at the world’s foundation opened a corner to him, and in the next moment, he heard the creator’s inner voice while rebooting this world—

“…How is this part even running?”

Yu Sheng went still.

[Not sure. Listen again.]

He pulled his perception back, then touched another point of light.

“…There should have been a planet here, but it wasn’t useful, so I commented it out.”

“Why is this throwing an error?”

“Why is this not throwing an error?!”

“Whatever, comment it all out and rerun… It actually runs?!”

“…Why are all the stars generated in this region pointy?”

Yu Sheng thought for a moment, then firmly pressed that corner of the world’s secrets back down.

Mostly because seeing too much of it was irritating.

By now, he understood what the information he’d touched really was. Even if he didn’t know how it happened, there was no doubt it came from the instant this world was reborn.

It had happened in a moment before “Let there be light.”

Much later, Yu Sheng’s “gaze” turned again toward those foundation frameworks that upheld the entire observable universe—structures he couldn’t touch or understand. He fell into thought.

He thought quietly while time wandered meaninglessly along the edge of his mind. Then, all at once, he snapped awake.

That observation beyond a mortal mind ended. The flood of information receded like a tide, and data from the real world rapidly reorganized. He felt the steel body of the Otherworld Hotel again—and then his human body sitting in the captain’s chair. The hum of machinery roared in his ears, deafening for a beat, then settled into the usual low background noise.

Yu Sheng’s vision wobbled. He realized Irene was sneaking up on him, stretching an arm out and reaching a finger toward his nostril.

He blinked and turned his head sharply. “What are you doing?”

“Ah!” Irene yelped and tumbled off him, landing sprawled on the floor.

Yu Sheng looked at the battered doll as she scrambled up, equal parts annoyed and amused. He grabbed her by the back of her collar and held her up like a cat. “You can’t go a moment without causing trouble, can you?”

“I was checking your breath!” Irene snapped. “Checking your breath, understand?! What if you died!”

Cold sweat broke out on Yu Sheng. When this little thing opened her mouth, it was like a sandstorm—his emotions didn’t even have time to connect properly. “Where did that come from? I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, because aren’t you always fine right before you suddenly die? Otherwise why call it sudden death?” Irene swung in midair and, with a practiced move, flipped to cling to Yu Sheng’s arm. She yanked her collar out of his grip and climbed back onto his shoulder like a koala. “Just now I saw you sitting here completely still. You looked fine outside, but suddenly there was no mental response. I thought you piloted yourself into brain death…”

Yu Sheng froze.

He didn’t even have the energy to argue with the grit in her words. Instead, he couldn’t help recalling what he’d sensed at the edge of hyperspace while he was synchronized with the ship—the grand information-level structures that supported everything, and that pile of ridiculous comments.

He remembered what Bai Li Qing had told him about this world: the ancient Holy Spirit, the old world destroyed by the Great Annihilation, the new world rebuilt on the ruins of the old, and the creation feat known as the Second Singularity Eruption.

Then Irene reached toward his face again, trying to poke his nostril.

Yu Sheng smacked her little paw away. “I just zoned out. Same as before. I just zoned out.”

“Zoned out so hard you had no mental response?” Irene stared at him, eyes wide. “Are you really okay? Is piloting like this—directly linking your mind—too much of a burden? When we get back, maybe have the Special Operations Bureau set you up with a more advanced autopilot… and if that still doesn’t work, get you a long-term driver.”

Yu Sheng stared at her.

Then he suddenly realized: she might actually be worried.

“I’m really fine,” he said, quieter. “It’s just… it was my first time entering hyperspace, and I accidentally saw some things.”

Yu Sheng pressed a hand to Irene’s hair. After a moment, he turned to Immortal Yuan Hao and Xuan Che, seated not far away.

They didn’t really understand what Yu Sheng and Irene had been talking about, but they seemed to have adapted to Hotel’s absurd, slightly crooked style—mostly Xuan Che. Immortal Yuan Hao probably just had something wired wrong from birth. Either way, they didn’t interrupt. They only watched.

Yu Sheng looked at them and asked, “When people pilot an FTL ship, do they ever see strange things?”

“Strange things?” Immortal Yuan Hao blinked. “What do you mean?”

Yu Sheng searched for words. “Like information from the world’s foundation. Knowledge passed through the stars. Traces from the world’s birth. That sort of thing.” For everyone else’s mental health, he didn’t share the details and instead probed carefully. “When a ship enters hyperspace, can you see things like that?”

Immortal Yuan Hao’s expression shifted. “That sounds terrifying. More like being tainted by something unnameable beyond reality. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Yu Sheng wasn’t satisfied. “…Not even if you fly the ship too fast?”

Immortal Yuan Hao thought hard, very serious. “…No. No matter how fast, you won’t. The fastest I ever flew, I only saw a warning.”

“A warning?!” Yu Sheng jolted. “What warning?”

Immortal Yuan Hao sighed. “A speeding warning from the local traffic bureau—and then the celestial ship got impounded. After that, I got nagged by two junior brothers for days.”

Yu Sheng stared at him.

After confirming again and again, he finally understood what he’d seen didn’t count as normal.

It seemed no one had ever touched the information etched deep in the stars—no one had even realized it existed.

A fluffy tail brushed his arm.

Yu Sheng turned and saw Foxy watching him, worry softening her eyes.

He suddenly smiled. “It’s fine. I just realized… this world might be pretty interesting.”

He stood and walked to the huge observation window at the end of the control hall.

Outside it, the edge of the hyperspace bubble still quietly mapped the warped scenery projected from real space. Everything in the observable universe appeared on that closed two-dimensional film, dyed in trippy color by the red-blue shift.

But this time, what he saw didn’t feel like a beautiful view.

He felt like he had seen… a figure.

A figure, busy at work in an eternal instant where all things were silent and dead.

“Pretty interesting…”