The Heart of Oblivion

With the enhanced Nine-Toothed Rake in hand and Soul Power flowing through it, Ning Chuan felt an unprecedented sense of control.

His confidence greatly boosted, Ning Chuan turned his gaze toward the bizarre heaps of trash farther away.

His eyes swept past twisted metal, shattered crystals, and dried-up energy pools before finally settling on a relatively isolated "small hill."

The discarded items piled there seemed to be mostly mechanical in nature.

Broken gears, charred circuit boards, and exposed cables tangled together, with several strangely shaped metal canisters half-buried among them.

At the very top of that heap of scrap metal, a relatively intact humanoid silhouette caught his attention.

It seemed to be... a robot?

It was roughly the size of an adult, its entire body covered in dull, matte-black metal plating. Its design was simple yet sturdy, its lines carrying a cold industrial beauty that stood starkly apart from the crude, broken refuse around it.

It was curled up, its arms wrapped around its bent knees, its head lowered and deeply buried in the crook of its arms, like a child sleeping amid ruins—or waiting for its final fate.

Its shell was covered in scratches and dents, many parts thickly coated in cosmic dust and grime. Obvious rust marked its joints, and its left leg had broken off at the knee, the jagged fracture uneven while the missing lower leg was nowhere to be found.

A huge, savage tear ran across its back, as though some immense force had ripped it open, exposing densely packed but long-darkened precision components and severed energy conduits within.

It lay there silently, showing no signs of life and giving off no energy fluctuations, like a steel wreck forgotten in some corner of time and space, steeped in ruin and deathly stillness.

"What is this..." Ning Chuan's heartbeat quickened for no apparent reason.

This robot's appearance was utterly different from the Soul Tool style he knew from Douluo Continent. It resembled something from the science fiction works of his previous life instead.

"Station, scan that robot!" he immediately ordered.

"Scanning..."

"Target: Humanoid Intelligent Combat Unit (Severely Damaged)"

"Codename/Model: Unknown"

"Energy Core: Completely depleted, core ruptured."

"Power System: Multiple breaks, completely nonfunctional."

"Weapons System: Missing or severely damaged (right arm's built-in weapon interface identified as completely destroyed; left arm's energy conduction matrix collapsed)."

"Intelligence Core: Detected an extremely faint abnormal fluctuation. Status: ??? (Unknown interference)"

"Body Status: Shell strength greatly reduced, multiple internal structural breaks, missing left lower leg and portions of external armor."

"Value Assessment: Body materials recoverable (high-strength Nanocomposite Steel, scattered Soul-Conducting Alloy fragments, damaged energy conduits...), but disassembly difficulty is relatively high. Intelligence Core status is abnormal and contains unknown risks. Overall value: Low-Medium (depending on disassembly results). Risk: Medium (unknown Intelligence Core fluctuation)."

"Recommendation: Attempt complete recovery and decomposition, or directly disassemble to recover some high-value materials."

"Intelligent combat unit... completely damaged... abnormal Intelligence Core fluctuation?" Ning Chuan caught the key phrases in the report.

Its value was not high, but that "abnormal fluctuation" and "unknown risk" made him hesitate.

Disassemble it directly for materials? That seemed a bit of a waste.

This robot looked fairly advanced, even if it was now little more than wreckage.

Recover it whole? But what if that "abnormal fluctuation" was something terrifying...

As Ning Chuan weighed the pros and cons, the hand gripping the rake unconsciously moved a little closer to the robot.

Perhaps because the distance had shortened, or perhaps because the Soul Power flowing through the rake shaft brought some minute enhancement to his perception, Ning Chuan's spiritual body suddenly trembled!

An indescribable feeling, incredibly faint yet capable of piercing through the platform's isolation, seeped out from that cold steel wreck.

It was not an energy fluctuation, not the aura of life, and not mental intent.

It was an... emotion?

Incomparably faint, yet pure to the extreme and despairing to the extreme—

Sorrow.

Like the final flicker of unwillingness before a spark was extinguished; like the last silence of a lone boat sinking into a bottomless sea; like a child forever abandoned in cold ruins, having long forgotten even how to cry, leaving behind only ancient, soundless grief.

That emotion was so faint it was almost nonexistent, yet it made Ning Chuan's soul tremble.

This robot... was not an inanimate object?

Did a trace of... emotion still remain in its Intelligence Core?

Ning Chuan froze.

He looked at that curled-up, damaged steel body, at its posture of sealing itself away, at how it seemed to be waiting for its final end amid endless solitude.

He suddenly changed his mind.

"Station," Ning Chuan took a deep breath, "if I choose to recover it whole and store it on the platform without decomposing it for now, is that possible?"

"Possible. The platform storage area can temporarily hold intact recovered objects. However, please note that if stored objects contain active risks, the Station Master must bear the consequences. Confirm complete recovery?"

"Confirm recovery!" Ning Chuan no longer hesitated.

That trace of sorrow had moved him.

Ning Chuan wanted to see what sort of story this steel orphan from another world concealed.

Even if it ultimately proved pointless and wasted a few points and some storage space, he would accept it.

"Command confirmed. Beginning remote traction recovery."

A gentle white beam descended from above the platform, accurately enveloping the robot wreckage.

Within the light, the robot's massive body slowly rose and flew steadily toward the platform.

Its posture remained curled up, as though protecting itself.

A few seconds later, with a soft clang, the robot's heavy body landed in the open space at the center of the platform, lying right beside the Decomposition Beam from before.

Up close, its ruin and desolation were even more apparent. Its metal shell was cold and hard, yet covered in wounds from war and the corrosion of time.

The massive wound on its back was horrifying to behold.

At the break in its left leg, cables drooped like withered nerves.

It lay there silently, dead still and soundless.

Ning Chuan walked over and carefully reached out, touching the cold shell of its arm.

That faint sorrowful emotion seemed to become a little clearer, yet it was still like a guttering candle in the wind, as though it might go out completely the next moment.

"Can you... still hear me?" Ning Chuan asked softly, knowing it was likely meaningless.

The robot did not react at all.

Ning Chuan sighed and withdrew his hand.

He was probably losing his mind, talking to a broken robot.

However, just as he turned around and prepared to continue raking through the trash—

"Bzz... detected... extremely faint... nonstandard energy request... connect?"

"Source: Unknown Intelligence Core."

"Request content: ...unknown..."

"Risk level: Unable to determine."

"Respond to connection? Warning: Unknown connection may bring information risks."

The Station's prompt suddenly sounded, carrying an unusual trace of hesitation.

Ning Chuan abruptly turned around and looked at the robot on the ground.

Was it? Had it sent the request?

A connection? Connecting with the Intelligence Core of a nearly scrapped robot?

The risk was unknown...

Ning Chuan looked at that curled-up, scar-covered steel body, and that pure sorrow flashed through his mind once more.

He gritted his teeth.

"Station, respond to the connection! If there's a problem, cut it off immediately!"

"Command confirmed. Establishing a low-permission isolated connection channel... Connecting..."

In an instant, Ning Chuan felt as though his consciousness had been sucked into an extremely narrow, icy passage.

There was no massive flood of data, no complex torrent of information.

There was only boundless, freezing darkness.

And in the deepest part of that darkness, a thought fragment so faint it seemed ready to disperse at any moment flickered once like a firefly.

What it conveyed was neither language nor images, but a more primitive, more direct sensation.

It was a memory fragment from its final moments: deafening explosions, immense pain as its body was torn apart, red alerts frantically flooding its system, the cold despair of rapidly draining energy, the deathly silence as its companions' signals went out forever one after another...

And finally, after being hurled by an irresistible force into chaotic currents of time and space, just before it sank into eternal darkness...

That immense fear and sorrow of abandonment, loneliness, and destruction.

The feeling vanished in a flash. What followed was an almost instinctive, faint longing for "existence."

Like a drowning person clutching at the last straw.

Then, everything returned to dead silence.

The connection was severed.

Ning Chuan stood where he was, speechless for a long time.

He understood where that sorrow had come from.

Before its final destruction, this steel wreck might once have been a... life-form possessing advanced intelligence and emotions?

At the very least, it understood fear and sorrow.

It was not a cold machine.

It was a casualty of war, a forgotten wanderer, a... lonely soul struggling at the edge of destruction.

Ning Chuan lowered his head and looked at the damaged robot at his feet, his gaze growing complicated.

To disassemble it directly and exchange it for material points now seemed somewhat... cruel.

But what could he do by keeping it? It was damaged too thoroughly.

"Connection severed. No subsequent risks detected."

"Received incomplete information stream: coordinates (invalid), identity code (damaged), final log fragment (encrypted/damaged)."

"Information value: Extremely low."

The Station's assessment remained as cold as ever.

Ning Chuan fell silent for a moment, then slowly crouched down.

"Fine." He spoke softly to the robot, as though making a promise. "Since I picked you up, I'll keep you for now."

"Maybe... someday I'll find a way to repair you."

Though he knew that hope was so slim it was nearly nonexistent.

Ning Chuan stood up, gave the still-silent steel body one final look, and tightened his grip on the rake.

He still had to earn points and materials. He still had to keep collecting trash.

But within this endless sea of garbage, perhaps not everything was merely cold, discarded waste.