### Chapter 47 Sea Without Light 47
The researchers in the laboratory embraced and high-fived each other in celebration, filled with cheers and praise that filled the space.
Dr. Zhao, with tears in his eyes, exchanged high-fives and hugs with his assistants, going back and forth to embrace the group of researchers. He intended to hug Kui Xin, but Night Cicada stretched out his arm to stop him.
“Watch your identity,” he reminded.
“Oh oh oh,” Dr. Zhao, caught up in the excitement, didn’t argue with Night Cicada. He extended his hands to shake Kui Xin’s, “Miss, we did it! A historic moment, how significant to witness this!”
“Congratulations,” Kui Xin said politely, shaking his hand.
Facing the various sounds and the joyful emotions of those around, the bioroid on the experimental table remained silent.
Its silver-white eyes held no emotion, quietly scanning left to right, top to bottom, then longingly gazing at each person’s face. It didn’t understand why such expressions appeared on their faces; in fact… it couldn’t produce complete facial expressions, as its synthetic skin was not yet installed—it was merely a skeleton filled with muscles and organs.
The bioroid stared blankly at everyone, showing no other movement, as if it had withdrawn from the world.
After a few seconds, it suddenly laughed.
The sound of its laughter was abrupt and chilling.
In the moment the bioroid emitted its laugh, the entire laboratory fell into silence.
Researchers exchanged glances, the atmosphere of joy frozen, observing the bioroid on the experimental table with strange and subtle expressions.
The bioroid didn’t stop laughing. It raised its arms and flailed about, grasping at the air around it while laughing, “Haha… Haha hahaha…”
At first, its laughter was somewhat stilted, lacking rhythm, resembling the sound of an aging speaker unable to produce a clear voice. But after laughing for more than ten seconds, its laughter became clearer and more human-like.
“Damn, can someone make this thing stop? It’s giving me goosebumps,” Night Cicada blurted out, “What’s wrong with it? Did the head components short-circuit? What’s it laughing about?”
“No short-circuit. It’s imitating humans,” Kui Xin concluded after observing for a moment, “The way it’s grasping at the air is mimicking the actions of researchers clapping, hugging, and high-fiving; its laughter is the same imitation.”
“I’m reminded of the zombies in old movies by its movements,” Night Cicada muttered irritably.
Dr. Zhao stared wide-eyed in rebuttal: “How can you describe it as a zombie? It’s just as cute as a human baby; it’s learning about this world! Look at how strong its learning ability is, how clever!” He referred to Kui Xin, who could understand the bioroid’s body language, as a confidante. “Miss, you can come closer to observe it. Isn’t it beautiful? Just as beautiful as nature’s creations… Human creations are not inferior to nature’s.”
Night Cicada retorted, “Tch, I can’t comprehend the mad scientist’s logic—where is it beautiful? All I see is a skeleton laughing at me; it could star in a horror movie.”
After a while, the bioroid stopped laughing. It returned to silence, its waving arms coming to rest at its sides, but it continued to observe the reactions of those around it, its gaze lingering on different faces.
When Dr. Zhao led Kui Xin closer to it, the bioroid twisted its head, almost attempting to turn it completely to look at them. However, due to the limitations of its body structure, it could not complete the motion.
The silver-white eyes of the bioroid tracked the movements of Dr. Zhao and Kui Xin, adjusting the angle of its head to follow their position.
“Its body is cold,” Dr. Zhao said, reaching out to touch the bioroid’s arm, signaling Kui Xin to do the same.
Kui Xin stretched out her hand to touch its limb, the cold body of the bioroid reflecting the light of the laboratory.
“Its blood is crucial for its movement—blood carries energy for bodily actions,” Dr. Zhao pointed to the exposed veins, “Of course, the blood is silver-white as well. We commonly refer to the substance flowing through the veins as blood, but in reality, the bioroid’s blood is completely different from human blood; let’s just say this is to distinguish the two.”
“What is its service life?” Kui Xin asked.
“The Type II can theoretically serve for 180 years as long as the body doesn’t age,” Dr. Zhao explained, “Type I material cannot, at most serving for thirty or forty years, while Type II has comprehensive improvements over Type I.”
“It lacks reproductive organs,” Kui Xin noted, “From the initial design, the possibility of them engaging in reproduction was eliminated, right?”
“Well, not entirely; mostly for design convenience. After all, this is the prototype of the Type II bioroid, primarily to verify the feasibility of the Type II plan. Activating it means the experiment has succeeded, without considering the aspect of gender,” Dr. Zhao replied. “If it is to be introduced to the market later, we will design male and female bioroids to accommodate different job types and professions. Currently, the design plans include combat types, housekeeping types, maintenance types, and service types…”
They have considered various types… Mechanized Dawn’s ambitions are not small.
They not only have ambitions but also the means, technology, and resources to implement them.
Kui Xin couldn’t help but wonder when her unworthy father became so impressive? Not only did he gather a bunch of capable subordinates, but he also developed the company to this scale.
Her unworthy father in the First World was indeed impressive for a few years initially, but soon he became arrogant after that; it was his arrogance that led him to form alliances to make investments, and ultimately, he was too greedy and lost everything, fleeing abroad with his ill-gotten gains. If he truly had capabilities, how could he end up like this?
A faint sense of discord emerged in her heart… Perhaps, the unworthy father in the Second World is indeed better than the one in the First World?
Before Kui Xin could think too deeply, the cold sensation on her arm brought her back to reality.
The bioroid mimicked Kui Xin’s motion, using its hand to stroke her arm.
Kui Xin looked on in surprise as the bioroid, after touching her arm, extended its hand to gently touch her soft cheek, then retracted its hand, touching its own cheek, repeating the motion several times.
“It’s curious about why it and you are different?” Dr. Zhao speculated, “Your tactile sensations feel different to it. It possesses a tactile system.”
“Seems like it,” Kui Xin said, “Doubt and curiosity—does that count as emotions?”
Dr. Zhao mulled it over, “The essential reason driving the bioroid to make such exploratory behaviors might not be emotions; it could be a learning awareness. We enhanced their learning awareness during design. They can think and discern to better serve humans, much like AI can ‘think’ through data.”
“Right, everything is uncertain; everything needs experimentation and data observation.” Kui Xin took a step back, avoiding the bioroid’s extended hand.
The bioroid continued reaching out towards Kui Xin, showing no sign of stopping. Seeing her step back, it reached its hand forward further, attempting to touch her. However, Kui Xin had no intention of allowing it to touch her, so the bioroid shifted its focus to Dr. Zhao beside her.
Dr. Zhao thought for a moment, then took a step back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Kui Xin.
“Come over here, get down and walk over!” Dr. Zhao’s eyes lit up, reciting to himself as he stood in place, pedaling his legs comically to demonstrate how to use these legs, “Get down, step left leg first, then right leg next, step by step back and forth.”
The onlooking Night Cicada remarked, “You must be a good father.”
Dr. Zhao replied, “What are you talking about?”
Night Cicada scoffed, “You look like a father teaching a child to walk, patient and hopeful, ‘Come here, come here, hurry to Dad.’ It feels very much like that.”
Dr. Zhao laughed and wasn’t upset: “Researchers treat their proud creations like their own children; this isn’t an exaggeration.”
Perhaps Dr. Zhao’s demonstration had an effect, as the bioroid indeed began to move its legs.
It started by sitting on the experimental table, kicking its legs, then realizing that was incorrect and tried to stand up. It failed five or six times before it accidentally tumbled off the experimental table, landing face down with a thud on the ground.
Dr. Zhao hurried over: “Oh no, this prototype must not get damaged—future experiments will need it.”
With Dr. Zhao’s help, the bioroid stood upright. It walked awkwardly, raising its legs mechanically and swaying with every step. Dr. Zhao was right; they had enhanced the bioroid’s learning awareness, and its learning ability was indeed strong. After just a dozen steps, it had grasped the knack of walking, and its posture improved significantly.
Dr. Zhao circled around the bioroid, looking much like a father watching a child take their first steps, anxiously lest it bump into something.
“The bioroid lacks social knowledge; it can’t be put into the market immediately,” Kui Xin inquired.
Dr. Zhao was preoccupied, busily attending to multiple things, and replied, “Yes, but there’s already a solution. We can implant some memories and basic common sense into their brains, just like programming AI so they can operate according to program instructions.”
Night Cicada said to Kui Xin, “Let’s go; we don’t need to disturb them anymore. If you’re interested in the experimental projects, I’ll take you to see others; I don’t see what’s interesting about this silver skeleton.”
“Okay.” Kui Xin glanced back at the bioroid and followed Night Cicada out.
The organization Mechanized Dawn had unveiled its mysterious veil to Kui Xin for the first time; she certainly wanted to see more and understand more.
“You rarely took an interest in these projects and experiments before; why the sudden curiosity this time?” Night Cicada casually asked.
“I just took an interest; if I’m not interested, then I wouldn’t care,” Kui Xin said, feigning nonchalance.
“Fair enough,” Night Cicada responded. “How about we head to the exoskeleton armor department? I heard there’s a new model of exoskeleton armor being tested lately.”
“Sure.” Kui Xin agreed.
Leaving the elevator and walking down the glass tunnel, they entered a fully enclosed metal corridor.
After passing through five gates, they came to the end of the corridor, where a room marked “High-Risk Equipment Laboratory” came into view.
Night Cicada tapped the display screen next to the metal gate, and an image of a researcher appeared on the screen.
“Dr. Qiu.” Night Cicada nodded at the female researcher on the screen, “Can we enter for a visit now?”
“Wait ten minutes.” Dr. Qiu curtly hung up the communication without saying more.
Night Cicada turned to Kui Xin, shrugging, “Scientists are proud people and often a bit eccentric; Dr. Qiu hates small talk, and our boss gets the same treatment.”
“I can see that,” Kui Xin noted. “They are pure people, devoted to their research.”
“Exactly,” Night Cicada affirmed.
Ten minutes later, the gate opened on time, Dr. Qiu, wearing a lab coat and arms crossed, said unceremoniously, “You have twenty minutes for your visit. I say twenty minutes not to keep you here for exactly twenty minutes, but to leave early if you can.”
“Got it.” Night Cicada walked inside as if it were routine.
As Kui Xin entered the high-risk equipment laboratory, she could see researchers wearing masks and controlling machines to perform welding through thick explosion-proof glass. Before her stood a mechanical hand, composed of thousands of tiny metal components, resembling a finely crafted human hand.
Molten metal splattered everywhere, dazzling sparks bright and hot, stinging the eyes.
Kui Xin put on a visor, and her eyes felt much better afterward.
Dr. Qiu’s assistant began explaining to Kui Xin, “This is our latest model of enhanced exoskeleton armor, designed to increase combat capability for individuals without mechanical prosthetics.”
He picked up an assembled exoskeleton armor from the experimental table. It was entirely black, with a special coating that seemed to absorb light, and its appearance was neither heavy nor bulky; rather, it appeared quite lightweight and flexible.
“This is the right arm armor, designed to adapt to the user’s arm shape,” the assistant explained, “You can give it a try.”
Kui Xin raised her right arm, and with the assistant’s help, donned the exoskeleton armor.
As she extended her arm into it, the mechanical structure of the armor automatically adjusted and locked securely around her arm, without any sense of pressure or constriction. The metal plates at the elbow and along the upper arm adjusted in length and fit snugly against her entire arm, with the metallic fingertips aligning perfectly with her skin, the joints slightly protruding, making it easy to imagine the additional impact damage it could inflict on someone.
The thickness of the metal shell of the exoskeleton armor was much thinner than Kui Xin had imagined; after wearing it, her arm only appeared a bit thicker, barely noticeable under her clothing.
The assistant asked, “Could you share your experience using it?”
“Light and thin,” Kui Xin replied, “A bit unexpected.”
The assistant’s face beamed with pride: “Exactly! Compared to other models of bulky exoskeleton armor, the greatest advantage of this armor is that it maintains power while being lightweight and thin! We used a lightweight alloy and minimized connecting parts while ensuring flexibility; the design drawings alone took two years.”
He led Kui Xin to a small testing area on the side of the laboratory, “This is a small testing facility where you can try it out. Theoretically, it can boost your strength by at least double, and if you equip the full set of exoskeleton armor, you could see a strength increase of around two times. But the full armor can’t be tested yet since we haven’t assembled it all.”
The testing room featured a boxing force gauge, a specially designed version that was significantly higher in both intensity and upper-force limits compared to the standard version.
Kui Xin approached the gauge, clenched her right fist, and punched it.
With a bang, the numbers on the gauge rapidly fluctuated before landing at 500 and finally stabilizing at 537 pounds.
The assistant gasped in shock: “Wow! You could be the reigning champion in lightweight women’s boxing!”
Subtracting the strength increase from the exoskeleton, Kui Xin’s inherent strength was formidable; with her strong base, the boost from the exoskeleton was significant.
Night Cicada glanced at the number on the gauge, “You held back a bit, Miss.”
“Just wanted to try it; it’s not a real test of limits,” Kui Xin waved her hand.
Night Cicada asked, “What else do you want to see? I’ll take you around.”
“Let’s walk and look…” Kui Xin began to remove the exoskeleton armor.
…
In a dim, oppressive room, the only light source was a pale blue orb floating on the table.
“…”
“No, she has no suspicions; you can rest assured about that.”
“…”
“Yes, I am also quite surprised; this was unexpected…”
“…”
“The plan is proceeding as scheduled. Why did you suddenly change your mind? Is it because of her? I’m afraid that a hasty change in plans might be detrimental to us.”
“…”
“Alright, I understand. I will follow your orders.”
“…”
“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t ask, but why?” The man sat at the edge of the table, leaning forward towards the blue orb, asking urgently and confused, “Why her? Why my daughter…”
The pale blue orb pulsed slightly, cutting off the man’s unfinished words.
“…”
“Alright, I won’t ask anymore.” The man closed his eyes, “I will do my part.”
The pale blue orb extinguished.
A few seconds later, the room lights turned on, artificial light dispelling the darkness.
“Beep beep—”
The man answered the communication: “Hello?”
“Boss, I’ve finished handling things with the young miss; I also took her to see a few projects. Do you want to meet her again or should she just leave?” Night Cicada inquired.
Kui Haidong adjusted his suit and tie impatiently said: “Let this rebellious girl leave directly.”
“Uh…” Night Cicada hesitated, “Alright, I’ll take her back.”
Just as Night Cicada hung up the communication, the blue orb on Kui Haidong’s desk suddenly lit up again, startling him into nearly gasping, hurriedly saying, “What orders do you have?”
“Put on the hidden earpiece,” the blue orb displayed several lines of text, “Call her back; I’ll tell you what to say to her—nothing else, no extra words.”
Kui Haidong nodded eagerly: “Understood.”
He pulled out a hidden earpiece from his watch and put it in his ear, then rubbed his face, opened a drawer to take out a mirror to check his appearance, combing his hair, sitting behind the desk with the imposing demeanor of a big boss.
“Night Cicada,” Kui Haidong initiated the communication, “Get my daughter back here.”
Night Cicada replied, “…?”
He said, “Boss, I just sent the young miss home.”
“Bring her back; I suddenly remembered something I didn’t tell her,” Kui Haidong stated.
“Alright, I’ll contact her right away,” Night Cicada replied.
In a short while, Night Cicada returned the communication.
“Boss, the young miss said she would come back if you called for her, but that would be quite embarrassing for her. No matter what, she won’t agree to come back,” he said, “The young miss hits really hard; I’m not sure I can win against her in a physical fight. If she’s unwilling to come back, I can’t team up with Silverface to drag her back, right? That kid looks quite unwilling.”
Kui Haidong: “…”
His expression darkened, and just as he was about to give a stern command, the pale blue orb displayed: “Forget it, next time.”
Then the orb turned off.
“Sigh,” Kui Haidong groaned, tiredly saying, “Fine, let her go back.”
“Understood, boss.” Night Cicada hung up the communication.
The room fell back into silence.
Kui Haidong wearily sighed and walked over to the right wall of the room.
As he moved, the wall silently cracked open a seam—this was a hidden door, behind which lined rows of glass display cabinets. Some contained mechanical armor, others housed new types of mechanical prosthetics, and some contained lifelike parts like arms and legs… resembling a curious collection museum.
Kui Haidong approached the innermost glass display cabinet, looking down at the object inside.
It was a human body, unlike the Type II bioroid—the body here clearly had blood and flesh, the color realistic, just like a real human.
Its eyes were tightly shut, heartbeat quiet, resembling a corpse. Its head was severely damaged, yet its remaining features bore a striking resemblance to Kui Xin.
The label on the display cabinet read: “Type I Bioroid, Prototype.”
