Chapter 20: The Classic of Mountains and Rivers

Hidden Dragon robots are divided into three main categories.

The first, Class A robots, are combat machines designed to undertake all manner of battle assignments—hand-to-hand fighting, gunfights, urban warfare, field operations, and so on. Their exteriors are almost impenetrably tough, and they’re equipped with the finest combat neural systems. They don’t have to resemble humans, but their prowess in battle is undeniable. Of course, their strength is only relative to ordinary people; compared to gene-enhanced elites, these robots are ultimately slower to react, and their materials not exceptionally durable. For now, they are confined to conventional warfare, unable to participate at the highest echelons of combat.

The second, Class B robots, are like Xiao Luo—versed in all manner of knowledge, able to cook, clean, wash clothes, make soup, and skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. They serve as excellent models of household servants, and in special circumstances, they’ll even shield their masters from bullets—note, this is purely in earnest.

The third, Class C robots, perform specialized tasks, each with a single, uniquely defined function—like submersible robots or mine-clearing machines.

In the Hidden Dragon lexicon, there is no so-called Class E robot. The leading brand for Class E robots is “Catgirl”—designed to address human entertainment and physiological needs. They are commercial products, available for order online by anyone.

Hidden Dragon does not produce such machines.

Because its people have long since risen above those base amusements.

Still, if someone truly retained such appetites and insisted on modifying their personal attendant for such purposes, it would be a trivial matter for an engineer—a quick adjustment, a dab of gel, a neural implant, a tweak to the vocal system, and the job is done. How hard could it be?

In fact, such requests are almost always approved.

Yet, among the many in Unit 101, not a single person has ever applied for such a modification—everyone has a measure of self-respect...

Lin Xiaosu glanced at the censored images floating in the air, then at Xiao Luo’s innocent, guileless eyes, and felt a little embarrassed. He decided it was best to leave and continue reading at the library.

At midnight, Lin Xiaosu sat lost in thought, a book open in his hands.

The book was called “The Classic of Mountains and Rivers,” a compendium of ancient myths recording all manner of fantastic beasts and strange phenomena—360 wondrous objects, 360 exotic creatures.

Section seventy-eight described a great bird called the “Konggu.” This bird was a hundred yards long, with a wingspan of three hundred; its talons had three sharp claws, capable of splitting mountains and cleaving stone, and on its brow grew three crimson scales, blazing like fire...

The book was clearly ancient: its pages yellowed with age, bound with thread, the characters not printed, not even movable type, but written by hand.

The content was pure mythology.

Yet Lin Xiaosu could not shake a chilling image from his mind...

It was from the second time he had spent the night at Liulin Temple. That day, the zodiac shifted, and through the skylight he saw a scene: a gigantic bird soaring over vast mountains and rivers, flying toward an ancient stone stele, its forehead marked by three vivid red scales that blazed in the night...

“Weren’t you planning to add some functions to Xiao Luo? Why haven’t you submitted a request? If you dare to apply, I’ll really approve it!” A voice came, accompanied by a faint, lingering fragrance.

Lin Xiaosu nearly jumped out of his seat. “Come on! Is there no privacy left? You even know about this?”

Behind him stood Changye, who gave a gentle laugh. “Didn’t you know these robots are all networked? As long as my clearance outranks yours, I know everything you do with her.”

Lin Xiaosu tilted his head back. “I should be grateful that I’m an upstanding gentleman, or else I’d have embarrassed myself all the way to Hidden Dragon headquarters!”

“A gentleman, yet you’re still researching the ultimate functions?” Changye snickered. “What are you doing? Ah, reading myths—that’s good, a balance of work and rest...”

“What do you make of these myths?” Lin Xiaosu’s eyes flashed with a trace of excitement.

“What can I make of them? I admire the author’s wild imagination, but the stories are so fragmented they barely qualify as stories.” Changye, too, had read the book.

“But what if... they’re not just myth?” Lin Xiaosu asked.

“If not myth, then what?” Changye replied.

“For instance... what if they’re a real record from some parallel world?”

Changye stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly smiled. “You’re too late. If you’d come ten years earlier, you might have found someone who could play out that topic with you in endless vivid detail. But he’s gone now.”

“Who was it?”

“An old Taoist who was blind. He lived here for ten years and left this book behind. I saw him when I first joined Hidden Dragon. He’d grab me and start talking—his ideas were truly unbounded. But I never had time to chat, so I never entered the world he spoke of...”

“What was his name?”

“His surname was Lu. His given name I don’t know. He was invited here by Crescent’s grandfather—not a member of Hidden Dragon himself.”

Lu... Lu Yun?!

Lin Xiaosu’s heart raced. “Could I meet Crescent’s grandfather?”

Changye sighed softly. “You’re too late again—this time by eight years.”

Eight years ago, for the “Trojan Horse Project,” he journeyed to the Republic of Loba to “assist” the enemy in improving their gene program, leading their research astray. When they discovered his deception, they beheaded him and sent his head back to his homeland...

When he left Hidden Dragon, he worried for the ten-year-old Crescent and asked the organization to care for the martyr’s orphan, as well as Changye.

That’s why Crescent grew up in Hidden Dragon.

That’s why she and Changye were as close as sisters.

Recalling the return of that head across the sea, Changye’s mood darkened. In Hidden Dragon, one grew used to comrades’ sacrifices, but each new loss still brought sorrow...

“To go abroad, undertake a top-secret mission, and return only as a severed head—one can only say that generation after generation of Hidden Dragon operatives truly deserve our respect!” Lin Xiaosu said. “Did you ever find out why that Taoist named Lu came to Hidden Dragon in the first place?”

“I vaguely heard something about giving a warning, but what warning, I don’t know.”

A warning!

Lin Xiaosu’s heart surged with realization.

He understood! Everything was clear!

Daoist Lu Yun had walked the same path he himself was now treading. He believed that the primeval great world would descend, and told Second Uncle at Dripping Water Temple. But telling Second Uncle was useless—he was just an ordinary man; even if he believed, what could he do?

So, Lu Yun sought out the most powerful organization in this world—Hidden Dragon.

He gave them a warning!

Hoping they would take it seriously and prepare a response in advance.

Whether Hidden Dragon took notice, or had a plan in place, Lin Xiaosu did not know.

But the Taoist Lu had done all he could.

“Where could he have gone?” Lin Xiaosu asked. “Don’t you have a system that can search for anyone in the world? Can you find him?”

“I’ve told you before. The system requires one of three things: registration, a signal source on the person, or an appearance before a camera. After leaving Hidden Dragon, he’s never appeared. Oh, but before he left, he left behind a final comment... ‘Demons hide overseas, the natives are restless in the earth’s depths, the primeval age seeks to break its seal and return—where will this generation of civilization go?’”

“Demons hide overseas, natives are restless in the earth, the primeval age seeks to break its seal... How do you interpret that?”

Changye replied, “The first part I understand—most Western countries have been infiltrated by the Hydra; they call themselves the beacon of humanity, but their actions are worse than bandits, rotten from top to bottom. This generation of civilization is under severe threat. But as for the natives, the primeval age—no one knows what that means...”

Suddenly, her voice broke off.

A tall figure appeared at the library door.

He strode in with a chilling, murderous aura, heading straight for Lin Xiaosu.

Their eyes met, and Lin Xiaosu immediately sensed this man had killed many people—he radiated a subtle but unmistakable murderous air.

“This is Hidden Dragon Number 88,” said Changye.

Lin Xiaosu stood, scratching his head. “Should I salute or something?”

Number 88’s cold, severe expression softened slightly at his words, and a faint smile broke through. “You’re not a full member of Hidden Dragon yet—no need to salute. Sit down, I have something to discuss with you.”

He sat, and Lin Xiaosu poured him a cup of tea.

Number 88 took the cup and set it on the table. “Lin Xiaosu, both Changye and I have observed your performance. As examiners, we unanimously agree that you have passed the assessment and will become a reserve member. I’m here today for two reasons. First, to inform you of the basic rules for reserves...”

He raised his hand and handed Lin Xiaosu a tablet.

On the screen, five bold words: Reserve Membership Charter.

Reserve membership is the probationary stage for Hidden Dragon’s gold medal agents.

Each person receives an initial 100 points. Meritorious deeds earn more points; violations of the Hidden Dragon code deduct points.

The full code—three hundred and twenty-seven articles—was displayed.

Lin Xiaosu skimmed through quickly and looked up. “What’s the second reason?”

“The second is an emergency. You may participate...”

Changye looked up. “What emergency?”

Number 88 replied, “Number 325 sent a message from Prison Mountain yesterday, claiming significant discoveries. But today, at the appointed time, no message arrived. We believe something has happened to him.”

“He’s the most meticulous among us—he’s never missed a check-in.” Changye was clearly alarmed.