Chapter 103

Chapter 103

The latest update to Lingjing Era introduced a new feature: the Cognitive Interaction System.

This technology allowed players to use AI assistance in-game to create their own custom dungeon worlds, letting players customize everything to their liking.

Previously, this technology had been primarily used in the medical field, and its application in the full-immersion gaming industry was a first.

After the announcement, the market response was explosive, with investors flocking to it, and the industry heaped praise on it.

But once the Cognitive Interaction System officially launched, disaster struck.

Within a week of its release, dozens of players suddenly lost consciousness in-game and never woke up.

A joint investigation by the Federal Academy of Sciences and the Federal Ministry of Public Health concluded that the incident was caused by an undiscovered underlying vulnerability in Lingjing Era's Cognitive Interaction System, which plunged players into deep comas they couldn't wake from, even after they promptly disconnected from their full-immersion gaming devices. The report warned that remaining in this state for too long could put patients at risk of brain death.

After the report came out, angry players and the public dubbed Fusheng Realm a "murder game." Social media was flooded with calls to boycott and abuse, and the topic stayed at the top of trending lists.

Although Lingjing Era had urgently shut down the game servers, issued a public apology, and promised full compensation to all victims, these measures did nothing to quell the public's fury.

Calls to boycott Fusheng Realm grew louder, and after several straight days of plunging stock prices, Lingjing Era's market value evaporated by nearly half.

Every day, victims' families and protesters gathered outside Lingjing Era's headquarters, demanding the game be permanently taken down and that Lingjing Era pay the price.

Wen Jueqian stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, looking down at the crowd below.

Their faces were indistinct, but the anger and grief radiating from them seemed to pierce through the glass.

The guilt churning in his chest threatened to swallow him whole. Those players had trusted Lingjing Era and loved Fusheng Realm, entrusting their consciousness and time to the game—yet they had failed to keep them safe.

Zhou Jing pushed the door open. "Chief Wen, you skipped lunch. Have some hot cocoa to boost your energy."

With that, she handed a cup of hot cocoa to Wen Jueqian.

Wen Jueqian turned around and took the cup. The aroma of cocoa snapped him back to reality, and he asked, "Is Qi Yi back from the Security Bureau?"

With Lingjing Era caught up in such a severe safety incident, Qi Yi, as CEO and legal representative, had been frequently summoned by the Security Bureau for questioning—sometimes gone for entire days.

Wen Jueqian had offered to cooperate with the investigation himself, since he was, after all, Fusheng Realm's Chief Producer, but Qi Yi had flat-out refused.

Qi Yi: "Before the Cognitive Interaction System went live, it went through so many rounds of safety testing, and everything was normal during the internal beta. We didn't find any safety risks in our simulations—so why did such a huge vulnerability appear the moment it launched?"

Wen Jueqian understood what Qi Yi meant. This wasn't their mistake—someone had sabotaged it.

He had, of course, considered that possibility—had even suspected it from the very start.

But every time that thought surfaced, he felt an even deeper sense of self-reproach, as if merely suspecting it was itself a way of dodging responsibility.

Moreover, if they truly had been framed, that could only mean their security measures hadn't been tight enough, leaving an opening for others to exploit.

They couldn't shamelessly play the victim, because those players were lying in hospitals right now, their lives hanging in the balance, while they were still standing here unscathed.

These conflicting thoughts churned in his mind, keeping him up at night.

That day, Qi Yi saw the turmoil and guilt churning inside him. He walked up to within half a meter of Wen Jueqian, his gaze fixed squarely on him with no trace of evasion or retreat. "Jueqian, I know you feel guilty and want to take all the blame on yourself. But Lingjing Era is our shared labor of love—we're a team. Players falling into comas can't possibly be a bug in our game. Only by finding the real cause can Lingjing Era have a future."

Wen Jueqian looked at the flame seemingly burning in Qi Yi's eyes, knowing that Qi Yi was at his most clear-headed and rational in moments like this. When they'd first started the company together, Qi Yi had told Wen Jueqian to focus solely on making games and leave everything else to him. Perhaps it was precisely because, in times like these, someone needed to focus solely on guiding Lingjing Era through the crisis.

Wen Jueqian looked at him and slowly nodded.

From that day on, Wen Jueqian led the core team in a full-scale investigation.

But every record was clean—no intrusion logs, no signs of tampering, not even traces of firewall attacks.

Yet that was exactly what was strangest. As the most popular full-immersion game of the moment, Lingjing Era's competitors must have tried to break through its defenses.

Zhou Jing had left, and Wen Jueqian remained by the window, sipping his hot cocoa while wondering if there was a new angle to pursue.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Wen Jueqian noticed the protesters gathered below suddenly scatter in panic, as if startled by something.

He looked down and saw a pool of blood on the ground. Lying in the center of it was a person.

Wen Jueqian instinctively stepped forward, trying to see who it was, but the floor-to-ceiling window stopped him.

He turned and rushed out of the office. When he got downstairs, the paramedics hadn't arrived yet.

Wen Jueqian finally saw the face clearly.

Lv Guo had killed herself by jumping.

Lv Guo was the company's CTO, a core member who'd joined in the early days of the startup, and the soul of the technical team.

After the incident, she'd been under immense pressure, and finally she couldn't hold on any longer.

After handling Lv Guo's funeral arrangements, Wen Jueqian took the initiative to reach out to Wen Yanxu for help.

Aegis was equally in the eye of the storm—a corporate giant far bigger than Lingjing Era. Wen Yanxu got no more than six hours of sleep a day, juggling countless matters and making countless decisions.

Despite being so busy, Wen Yanxu had set aside Aegis's affairs the moment Lingjing Era's crisis broke out, taking time to help Wen Jueqian formulate response strategies—down to details like how to communicate with victims' families, how to cooperate with regulatory investigations, and how to buy more time and space in the public eye. He even reviewed Lingjing Era's announcements and statements with Aegis's PR team, scrutinizing every word.

Beyond that, when Lingjing Era's investors were pulling out one after another and the company's capital chain was on the verge of snapping, Wen Yanxu injected a substantial sum of money into Lingjing Era in his personal capacity. It was precisely this money that kept the company running through its darkest hour—employee salaries paid on time, server electricity bills covered.

Wen Jueqian hadn't wanted to add to Wen Yanxu's burden, but Lv Guo's death made him realize that if the truth wasn't uncovered quickly, more people would get hurt. He couldn't stand by and watch Lingjing Era get destroyed.

Wen Jueqian proposed borrowing the True Love System's power to search for clues about Lingjing Era.

Wen Yanxu agreed immediately and arranged to meet Qiao Yuexun that very day to ask.

Unexpectedly, Qiao Yuexun didn't seize the opportunity to make any demands, and readily agreed to use the True Love System's energy to help Wen Jueqian track down leads for Lingjing Era.

After discussing the operational details, Qiao Yuexun suddenly asked, "An unexpected development that completely goes against the script's predictions—doesn't Chief Wen have anything he wants to ask?"

In the original storyline, Lingjing Era was indeed destined to face a crisis, but it was one caused by an internal traitor leaking core technology to competitors while taking a group of key personnel with them to defect.

Other shareholders would seize the opportunity, coordinating with Ruijia Capital to have CEO Qi Yu removed at a board meeting, ultimately resulting in Wen Jueqian and Qi Yi losing control of the company and being kicked out.

Wen Jueqian had already guarded against these scenarios.

But the crisis that had now emerged was far more malicious than internal power struggles—it was enough to completely destroy Lingjing Era, and the script didn't mention it at all.

Wen Yanxu, however, wasn't provoked by Qiao Yuexun's taunting words. "I'm well aware it's just a script. If it were destined to happen, there'd be no need for your existence."

He looked at Qiao Yuexun with a cold, detached gaze, as if looking at a tool. "The scandal that exposed Aegis ahead of schedule wasn't predicted by the script either."

The air grew still, and the smile vanished from Qiao Yuexun's face.

The True Love System activated its power, temporarily blocking them from the Heavenly Dao. The heart floated out of Qiao Yuexun's body and flew in front of Wen Yanxu, explaining urgently: "Even as a system from a higher-dimensional world, I can't fully foresee the future. All we do is create the future according to the script's requirements, but there are many variables we can't control."

The Lingjing Era incident really wasn't our doing. I'll do everything I can to get to the bottom of it. You can't blame me for this.

The True Love System had been picking up an extremely strong danger signal from Wen Yanxu all day, and its crisis alarm had been blaring nonstop.

So during the negotiation just now, the True Love System had been preventing Qiao Yuexun from seizing the opportunity to make demands, urging him to immediately agree to whatever Wen Yanxu asked for.

Qiao Yuexun hadn't noticed that Wen Yanxu sometimes looked at him the way you'd look at livestock headed for slaughter, and he still had the nerve to provoke him. The True Love System was scared stiff and immediately jumped in to defend itself, terrified that Wen Yanxu might actually get the wrong idea.

Qiao Yuexun watched the True Love System cower like that and cursed it under his breath, though his face gave nothing away.

He happened to catch sight of Wen Jueqian pushing through the door, and a playful smile spread across his face as he said to him, "We're all just actors cast by fate, and the whole world's the stage."

With that, he rose to his feet and gave a slight bow. "Wen Jueqian, I'm sorry I couldn't shield you from this crisis in advance."

Wen Jueqian stopped mid-stride at his words.

Indeed, if everything were to unfold according to the script, then what difference would there be between them and puppets on strings?

Ever since the crisis broke out, Wen Jueqian had been racking his brain over where things had gone wrong. Now, he suddenly felt a measure of relief. "Perhaps we truly are actors of fate, with a script written in advance. But humans will act and change according to their own desires and will, creating an unknown future."

The malice on Qiao Yuexun's face gradually faded, replaced by something close to genuine admiration. "Hearing you say something like that is truly impressive."

He paused, locking eyes with Wen Yanxu, who had already stepped in front of Wen Jueqian in a protective stance, and his tone grew meaningful. "Wen Yanxu, when you plan to arrange everything perfectly and shield Wen Jueqian from all danger, that's exactly when accidents are most likely to happen. Sometimes, he needs to weather some storms on his own."

Wen Yanxu's gaze turned icy cold.

Neither of them said another word, and they turned to leave.