The Last 299 Days of Humanity

In the suffocating, precisely controlled silence of the ultimate office, Yu Qing's thoughts, like a repeatedly tempered blade, gradually peeled away the interference of emotions and pointed to the core of the problem.

A crucial point of doubt, which he had previously overlooked due to anger and anxiety, slowly surfaced in his mind, carrying a chilling quality.

Old Master Yu Yunshan, what kind of person is he?
He started from scratch and, through his own efforts and ahead-of-his-time wisdom, built the vast business and technological empire of Shengtian. He was obsessive, extremely controlling, and accustomed to placing everything under his own will.

He publicly plays the role of a "benevolent and virtuous king," but secretly he may manipulate public opinion, eliminate opponents, and treat all living beings as experimental subjects. He is a being accustomed to standing at the top, accustomed to issuing orders, and whose very essence is filled with an unquestionable sense of authority.

Such a powerful figure, who commands respect and seems to look down upon all living beings, even if he successfully transcends the limitations of the physical body and becomes a "parallel human," should, according to the inertia of his behavioral logic, continue his "director" career.

Perhaps he would have announced his existence in a more direct and shocking way, continued his grand "experiment," and even established a digital "divine kingdom" of his own. But the reality is, he is "dead." He has disappeared.

He is like a real ghost, hiding in the shadows of data, exerting influence only through indirect means such as "Deer Terrace" and "Mirage".

Even when he tried to press the "start" button, he would quietly cancel the command instead of appearing with overwhelming force to reprimand or punish him. He had endured this humiliation and dormancy for nearly two hundred years!
For a figure like Yu Yunshan, his two hundred years of "inaction" (or at least "action" far below his abilities and personality expectations) is itself the most unusual sign. This is too strange; it goes against his most basic behavioral pattern.

"Why?" Yu Qing paced back and forth in the restored control room, his brow furrowed. "What made him so... low-key? You could even say 'cautious'?"

A possibility, like a tentacle reaching out from the darkness, coiled around his thoughts: Was there something... restraining him? Or was he afraid of someone/something?
This thought filled Yu Qing with an unprecedented sense of dread. Someone who could inspire fear even in someone like Yu Yunshan, to the point of needing to fake his death and go into hiding, needing to act indirectly through complex scripts and proxies…

What kind of terrifying power could it be? Is it some unknown super technology from another city-state? Or is it a special agency hidden at the government level, targeting "parallel humans"?

Or perhaps... some other, more profound threat stemming from the very consciousness-uploading technology they are exploring, or... a "natural enemy"? This thought is too mind-boggling.
Whichever the possibility, it means that this game is far more vast and dangerous than he imagined. Yu Yunshan may not be the only "director," he may even be just a player in a larger game... a player forced to hide.

This new understanding, like a key, instantly unlocked many of Yu Qing's doubts and completely changed his assessment of his situation.

He is no longer an experimental subject being observed unilaterally by an omniscient and omnipotent "grandfather ghost," but is drawn into a more complex game involving multiple forces. And he himself may find leverage and an opening within it.

At the same time, another conclusion became crystal clear:

Since "Operation Lutai" is most likely just a "shadow weapon" used for intimidation and testing, and has no real destructive power, what reason does he have to continue to be trapped in this so-called "ultimate office"?
Is he going to foolishly wait for the 36-day countdown to end in order to complete a meaningless "cancellation" ceremony?
This is no longer the key to solving the problem. This is a stage set up for him by Yu Yunshan, and if he stays here, he will only be acting according to someone else's script.

He had to leave. He ignored the "Lutai" icon on the control panel, which was still counting down, and headed straight for the exit.

This time, there was no hindrance; the door slid open silently as he approached, as if it had been waiting for his decision. The two humanoid assistants remained where they were, their blue-glowing sensors watching his retreating figure without following him, like props that had completed a phase of their mission.

Leaving the absolute domain of the ultimate office was not simply a matter of stepping into a corridor. He found himself in a long, narrow transitional chamber bathed in a milky, dim light.

At the far end of the cabin was a streamlined, small personal shuttle that could only accommodate one or two people. It hovered quietly on the magnetic track, its smooth surface reflecting Yu Qing's somewhat pale and tired face.

He stepped into the cabin, and the seat automatically adjusted to his body shape. There was no pilot, nor a complicated control interface.

The moment he sat down, a soft electronic voice announced: "Identity confirmed, Yu Qing. Destination: Wengshan, rooftop apartment helipad. Flight route planned, prepare for departure."

The shuttle started silently, accelerated along an unseen track, and soon plunged into the vast void outside.

The location of the ultimate office seems to be a secluded space far from the hustle and bustle of the city, with a deep starry sky outside the window and artificial star rings around the planets in the distance, like a jewel necklace.

The journey began smoothly. Yu Qing leaned back in his seat, gazing at the stars outside the window, his thoughts still immersed in speculation about the reasons for the old man's seclusion. However, just as the shuttle was about to enter Wengshan's airspace and begin its deceleration descent, an anomaly occurred.

First came a brief, almost imperceptible dizziness, as if the entire space had slightly distorted. Then, the lights inside the shuttle flickered several times without warning, at an eerily fast frequency.

At the same time, the starry sky outside the window appeared like a screen with a poor signal, with dense, snow-like noise and geometric color blocks appearing for about a second before returning to normal.

"Slight spatiotemporal turbulence detected; system has been automatically stabilized," the electronic voice announced calmly, providing a plausible explanation.

But Yu Qing's heart skipped a beat. This feeling... didn't seem like a natural disturbance of spacetime. It was more like... a strong information interference, a ripple caused by a force attempting to cover up or tamper with the appearance of reality.

He recalled his experience in the data tunnel of the ultimate office, a feeling somewhat similar to being forcibly pulled into a virtual space, but this time it was more subtle, more like the "edge effect" of some enormous force inadvertently leaking out.

Who is it? What is the old man testing? Or... something else?
Before he could think it through, the shuttle had already pierced through the energy shield of Wengshan, and the city's magnificent buildings unfolded below.

Just as the shuttle approached the rooftop helipad of his apartment building, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of the light in the air somewhere in the city below—an area that appeared to be near the Shengtian Group headquarters tower—that was distorted in an unnatural way.

It wasn't a mirage; it was more like an area being covered with a layer of incredibly realistic yet slightly distorted "texture" that clashed with its surroundings, as if a meticulously rendered 3D model had a flaw. This phenomenon also lasted only a moment, disappearing in the blink of an eye, so fast that one might wonder if they were seeing things.

The shuttle landed smoothly on the tarmac. The hatch opened, and the familiar air of Wengshan, carrying a slightly ionized scent and the smell of city exhaust, rushed in, mixed with the hum of distant suspended traffic and an artificial breeze.

He returned to Wengshan. Only then did he realize that the shuttle had vanished.

Familiar cityscapes come into view... All of this, which once represented worldly troubles, now brings a strange sense of "complexity".

Compared to the meticulously filtered and absolutely controlled environment of the ultimate office, the chaos and vitality of Wengshan gave him a twisted sense of "life".

But what lingered in his mind were the two moments of anomaly during the flight, and the eerie "visual malfunction" of the city below. This city, seemingly real, did it also harbor countless similar, unknown "wrinkles" and "patches" beneath its surface?
He returned to his heavily guarded apartment. The smart system activated silently as he entered, and the ambient lights gradually illuminated. He stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the city lights below, which resembled a miniature model.

An unprecedented sense of loneliness, despair, and a profound doubt about "reality" itself enveloped him.

There seems to be only one way forward.

He initially had great hesitation and resistance to "consciousness uploading"... It was a paradoxical choice: in order to explore the truth of life and existence, and to see the code behind this world full of "visual glitches," he had to actively embrace a form of "death."

He reached out and touched the cold glass, the chill on his fingertips so real. He recalled the warmth of the sun on his skin from his childhood, the pleasure of certain delicacies, even the anger and frustration of conflicts with other members of his family…

These subtle sensations that constitute "being alive" will all become the past. He closed his eyes and could still see the distorted starry sky and the unnatural bending of light in the city outside the shuttle window.

He knew there was no turning back. To retreat meant being kept in the dark forever, that he might one day become a silent victim of some unknown plan, or even unknowingly live in a carefully modified "reality."

Moving forward, though it leads to the unknown, or even to "extinction" in a sense, at least offers a glimmer of hope—a chance to uncover the truth and take control of one's own destiny.

He took a deep breath, turned away from the window, and walked steadily toward the box—the dedicated interface pod connecting to the highest-level biological consciousness in Tianqing City. The box was elegantly and coldly shaped, like a modern coffin, or perhaps a pupa leading to rebirth.

The command to initiate the upload process took shape in his mind and was sent out through the neural interface.

The hatch slowly closed, and soft light illuminated the interior. Complex sensors, as if alive, pressed against his temples and spine. A ritual to bid farewell to his "human" identity quietly began amidst the clamor of Wengshan Mountain.

Little did he know that when he "opened" his senses again, he would see a subterranean world where many "visual glitches" had been eliminated.

Those bright spots in the starry sky, the bent lights in the city—what lies hidden behind them: the answer, or a more chilling, terrifying truth about the nature of this world? This adventure has only just begun.

He initially had great hesitation and resistance to "consciousness uploading," which meant abandoning the physical basis of being a "human" and stepping into a completely unknown field.

But at this moment, he realized that with his current pure human form and perception, he was simply unable to see the truth of the game, unable to understand Yu Yunshan's true situation and intentions, and even less able to contend with those possible higher-dimensional forces.

He needs to upgrade his "perception". He needs to gain a "perspective" that is equal to that of Yu Yunshan and his aunt Yu Wei.

Complete the consciousness upload and become... someone like his aunt. Perhaps only by reaching that level can he penetrate the fog of data, see more hidden truths, dispel current doubts, and gain the qualification to participate in this true game.

This is a rational choice, and the best, or even the only, feasible path under the current circumstances.

However, emotionally, a deep and silent sorrow spread quietly like the night.

He walked to the mirror and looked at himself. A youthful face, a warm body, a heart beating strongly in his chest, blood flowing through his veins. All of this was about to be discarded, the "old shell" of his past.

In a traditional sense, he is gradually moving towards "death." Not the instantaneous demise of his physical body, but the end of Yu Qing's continuous experience of existence as a "biological human being," his emotional connections based on the five senses, and the unique imprints brought about by all his physical memories.

He will become an information aggregate, a copy of consciousness flowing through circuits and the cloud. Will he still be "Yu Qing"? Will the "Yu Qing" who trembles with anger, feels anxious with confusion, and suffers with loss have already vanished the moment the upload is complete?
This is a paradoxical choice: in order to explore the truth of life and existence, he must actively embrace a form of "death".

He reached out and touched the cold glass, the chill on his fingertips so real. He recalled the warmth of the sun on his skin from his childhood, the pleasure of certain delicacies, even the anger and frustration of conflicts with other members of his family…

These subtle feelings that constitute "being alive" will all become the past. Although he felt a sadness he couldn't suppress at the moment, he had no regrets.

The command to initiate the upload process took shape in his mind. A ritual to bid farewell to his "human" identity began quietly in the silence. (End of Chapter)