Chapter 121: Artificial Soul 48
5L: The boss is playing by their own rules.
16L: Everyone is trying to hide their identities, and players can’t trust each other. How can they possibly reveal their true identities?
25L: Demanding others to reveal their true identities at this point? That’s despicable.
36L: I’m beginning to have my doubts… This 233 boss has guided public opinion on the forum and revealed some extra information a few times. Could it be that they were just waiting for today? What’s the purpose of wanting the players’ true identities?
37L replies to 36L: I think you’re overthinking it. Some of the forum rules from a few weeks ago were still unexplored. If the personal section feature hadn’t suddenly appeared today, who would have known the forum could have private sections? Unless this 233 can foresee the future and knows the forum rules, there’s no need for them to act that way.
38L replies to 37L: We don’t know the conditions for activating personal sections; maybe 233 has known about the forum’s activation conditions for a long time and has been planning step by step since the first week…
39L: I feel like the truth just surfaced upstairs.
55L: Can some of you conspiracy theorists tone down the paranoia? You’re making me laugh.
56L: The first floor has made it very clear; the boss means, “If you want in, go ahead; if not, then leave.” If you’re willing to expose your true identity and join the forum, then great; if you’re not, then don’t join.
57L: I agree with the above. Whining about it, did someone force you to reveal your identity and join 233’s section?
69L: I don’t understand why there’s a conspiracy theory here. Is the key information this boss shared with us true? Yes. Is that information helpful for players? Not just helpful, it’s immensely helpful. I don’t get why there’s a conspiracy theory about such a person.
70L: Just admit it, 233 isn’t the only one who provides crucial information to other players, right?
71L replies to 70L: That’s right, it’s not just 233, but don’t forget they were the first to step up. That significance is completely different. Without anyone leading the charge, would the forum have such a culture of knowledge and information sharing today? Other information sharers are commendable too; I’m not denying their contributions, I just want everyone to recognize the significance of 233’s actions.
72L: Exactly, I’ve written some trivial knowledge posts myself, and I did that because of 233’s influence. In the real world, I’m a turtle, thinking it’s better to avoid trouble, but 233 made me realize I can’t just be a taker and enjoy the information others risked to gather without feeling guilty.
73L: Some may know more information than 233, but they didn’t reveal it at first. 233 did, and that’s why they are respected. It’s that simple; the first to charge into battle is always special.
88L: I think everyone upstairs misunderstood what 233 meant. Wait a moment, let me organize my thoughts and analyze 233’s intent in posting this recruitment.
92L: In this environment, it’s challenging to find a suitable communication channel. Mobile phones can be monitored, and computers can easily be infected with viruses. In the information age, privacy is nonexistent, as we all know well. The channel for us players is this forum, but it’s a public one where everyone can see the posts. Although there’s a private message function, it’s too inefficient. Adding personal sections at this crucial time is like having a “group”; the moderator acts as the group leader, and messages within the “group” can only be seen by internal members—very convenient for small private communications.
93L: To summarize, personal sections are like private guilds, a true players’ guild. 233 specified that players entering their personal section need to reveal their identities because they are looking for allies. They must confirm whether these allies can be trusted, establishing conditions to prevent infiltrators.
96L: I hope this explanation helps everyone understand. The boss is actually looking for a team! If players are willing to take the risk, then join—who knows, it could lead to a turning point in their lives. Of course, the conspiracy theories guessed above are also possible.
Kui Xin paused as she read 96L.
This poster had indeed captured part of her thoughts.
The controversy surrounding this post was expected; after all, the first batch of players entering the game is fully aware of how brutal the world of Crimson Soil is. They live in constant fear, with a pervasive sense of paranoia, making conspiracy theories entirely normal.
For ordinary players, having paranoid tendencies can be a good thing; at the very least, it makes their behavior more cautious, reducing the probability of death.
Kui Xin clicked on her nickname and entered the backend to refresh her private message box.
Her private message box had long been full since she published her first knowledge post; people began messaging her immediately.
Initially, some asked about her relationship with Remover 233, questioning if they were the same person. As time went on, the messages became more complex—some expressed gratitude, others inquired about Xenomorphs information, and some asked about the status of the Federation’s arrests targeting players.
Kui Xin rarely opens her private messages, and she never replies to the questions within. She remains silent, avoiding unnecessary words.
She scrolled through and saw a few new messages; one asked, “If I tell you my identity, will you keep it confidential? Do I need to reveal my identity to the other members in the section? If I share my identity with you, can you also share yours with me?”
Kui Xin’s fingers tapped twice on the screen, her eyebrows raising.
She simply replied, “You only need to reveal your identity to me. I won’t reveal mine to you.”
The other party tried to negotiate, “If you’re looking to team up, then that’s not fair.”
Kui Xin quietly stared at the screen, choosing not to respond.
The other party seemed to realize they couldn’t establish an equal footing with Kui Xin and didn’t qualify to negotiate terms. They continued, “My identity in the Second World has significant value, but I’m in trouble and might die. I’m looking for someone to help me, but I’m not sure if you are that person.”
Kui Xin was the first to open a personal section as a player, which proved her strength; she was different from other players.
So it was expected that someone would seek her help.
Kui Xin said, “Tell me what trouble you’re in.”
The other person said, “I work in a government department and could be exposed at any time.”
Kui Xin: “Which department?”
The other party paused for a long time before finally saying, “Have you heard of the Special Affairs Department?”
Kui Xin froze for a moment, finding it particularly interesting.
If this player was with the Special Affairs Department in the Second World, she believed they were either extremely lucky or genuinely capable to have survived in such a dangerous agency. Furthermore, the fact that they proactively revealed they worked for the Special Affairs Department signified either desperation or some ulterior motive behind mentioning that department.
She deliberately probed, “If you belong to the Special Affairs Department, then I don’t think you should still be alive.”
The other said, “Are you doubting I’m brainwashed?”
Kui Xin responded, “Tell me your true identity, or we can’t talk.”
“Will telling you my identity help me?”
“I can’t guarantee 100% that I can help you; I’m just exploring a path. The choice to walk this path is yours.”
The other fell silent, seemingly needing time to think.
Kui Xin was fishing, just as there were others trying to fish her, so she had to be discerning.
In the First World, Kui Xin was the one holding the initiative.
She crossed her legs on the bed, refreshed the forum homepage, and saw a few English posts pop up. It turned out that several players who understood foreign languages had translated her posts into English, sparking discussions among some foreign players.
Kui Xin had spent several days adapting after stuffing an English translation package into her brain. Only then did that knowledge truly integrate into her mind. Now, she had no problem with simple English; as long as it wasn’t specialized terminology, she could understand it.
She flipped through, and before long, a new post emerged.
It was in English, with the title translating to: “I am Remover 777, looking for you, Remover 233.”
Kui Xin’s fingers halted.
After a few seconds, she put her legs down and sat up straight on the bed.
She stared at the title, not clicking in right away.
After a moment, Kui Xin refreshed the forum homepage and saw that a new section had been added behind her personal section “Black Snake,” named “Seven.”
A smirk escaped her throat, neither a laugh nor a smile.
How intriguing. Remover 777, the second Remover made famous on the player death list, was challenging Kui Xin—Remover 233.
Deep down, Kui Xin felt a strong intuition—it told her that this post was definitely a challenge and not an invitation. Compared to an invitation, this felt more like provocation.
Kui Xin clicked into the post, and the first floor boldly stated: “I sincerely invite Remover 233 to join my personal section [Seven]. Of course, other Removers are welcome too. Proving identity requires showing your player identity card and revealing the number.”
Kui Xin’s expression subtly shifted as she realized that Remover 777 viewed her as one of their kind.
Remover 233’s actions seemed to have created some illusions for Remover 777.
Remover 233 had killed many of their kind, and Remover 777 had also killed players; they were both among the most discussed players on the forum, unable to earn the trust of Proxies. After killing, Remover 777 swaggered away from the scene, disregarding the surveillance and the surrounding police, acting with utmost arrogance.
They thought that Remover 233 was just like them, a lawless maniac.
