Apocalyptic Disaster: I Hoard Billions in Supplies and Kill the Saint

208: Chapter 208 Trial of Pain PointsZhou Cheng clenched his fists, his eyes darting around, but he could find no passage, no door, and no way out. Only a single floating fragment slowly descended:

That was his memory.

It was also—his ”evidence of guilt.”

High above, those pulsing, starlight-like ”Memory Streams” began to aggregate and sink, descending like fluid spiritual lines to connect with the top of everyone’s heads.

At that moment, a system voice rang throughout the space, emotionless yet vibrating into the very depths of their souls:

[Memory Fragments Locked]

[Reorganizing: Emotional Pain Points × Will Nodes × Edge of Loss of Control]

[Trial is about to begin]

[Please face the moment you most wish to forget.]

Within that silent torrent, a ”Door of Memory” emerged beneath everyone’s feet.

It wasn’t a door. It was a choice.

They weren’t ”walking into” a scene—

They were being forced to relive a past they had tried desperately to erase, yet which the system still remembered.

Ye Nanxing looked up toward the dome.

That galaxy-like memory network was like a giant neural tree, its roots extending all the way into the depths of her Spiritual Consciousness.

She did not speak.

But she understood that this was not an illusory space.

This was—the threshold where the old civilization’s calculation model performed ”value screening” on every human individual.

Only those who passed the ”Memory Judgment” would be qualified to step into the next stage—to reach the final ”Decision Core” of the old world.

Flame Born’s consciousness fell into a spiritual domain as scorching as lava. Beneath his feet was an endless expanse of fiery red strata, and crack-like psionic light lines floated in the air, as if the entire space was being forged by the searing memories in his heart.

His breathing grew increasingly rapid—

A Memory Screen shimmering with deep golden light slowly descended from the sky, like some punitive oracle.

He looked up, his pupils constricting slightly under the reflection of the light screen.

—It was him as a young child.

He was curled up inside a sealed laboratory made of cold white stainless steel, his naked back pressed against the freezing floor,

Over a dozen metal tubes were inserted into his spine, and a red-gold liquid flowed through the needles like fire burning his nerves.

The surrounding lights were cold and lifeless, and a serial number was engraved on the wall:

[Ignis-07]

A system broadcast came from above:

[Consciousness Capture Initiated.]

[Backup Personality Extraction in progress.]

[Subject Current Status: No self-identification.]

His body convulsed violently, his hands clawing outward desperately, but he could only grasp at the air.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

In his eyes, the instinct for survival appeared for the first time.

The scene shifted, and Flame Born saw himself—standing at the bottom of the current Rift Valley Nest, his psionic energy spiraling out of control,

Flames erupted from his arms, fingertips, and even the corners of his eyes, his veins pulsing like burning circuits.

But before his eyes, an old holographic screen appeared.

Inside it stood ”another him.”

That person looked almost identical to him, but had no flames, no anxiety, and no pain.

He wore a white consciousness isolation suit, and his eyes were as cold as mirrors, as if he had long since abandoned emotion, retaining only a cruel logic.

That person looked at him, a sentence curling from the corner of his mouth:

”You are not me.”

”I am the one who survived.”

”You are just... a Compensatory Personality.”

Flame Born froze in place, his chest feeling as if it had instantly collapsed.

He asked in a trembling voice, ”Why must I feel pain—while you have nothing?”

The other did not answer, merely turning around inside the screen and closing the dialogue interface.

—As if this was his ”sealed fate.”

Flame Born trembled all over; he slowly knelt down, both fists propping him up on the ground.

The psionic energy in the air vibrated until it was almost distorted, and the ground began to crack.

”I am not... a copy.”

”Not a compensation.”

”I am—”

”Me!”

In the next instant, the ground exploded, and a pillar of fire erupted from within his body!

Flame Born snapped his head up, his pupils turning into two rings of red-gold fire,

Psionic energy surged like a volcano, tearing the entire calculation space into a blazing purgatory!

His figure amidst the flames was like a god awakening. Within the fire, a Psionic Core as round as a spark reorganized, rotated, and roared inside him!

The system shook violently, and emergency prompts surfaced:

[Mental Resistance: Supercritical]

[Psionic Autonomy Right Counter-Tear Successful]

[Trial Passed]

[Flame Born: Successfully fused Residual Consciousness Module]

[New Ability Node Activated: Psionic Entropy Dissolution · Burning Thought]

”Burning Thought”—the mind is fire, and conviction never dies.

He slowly stood up, the fire behind him burning eternally,

Looking back at the shattered illusion, his voice was low, yet it seemed to burn out from the depths of subterranean fire:

”Memories can be split.”

”Personalities can be copied.”

”But this part of me... was forged in fire.”

Before her eyes, she did not fall into an illusion—

Instead, she was directly connected to the History-Traceback Authority Domain of the calculation model.

—The place where she stood was the Old Civilization Hub · Sixth Consciousness Conference Hall.

Virtual figures composed of light streams floated around her, all wearing the badges and identification layers of the highest scientific research institutions of the old era.

They were:

The ”Director of Cognitive Architecture” · cool-toned, with a cold gaze and a voice like a blade;

The ”Strategic Survival Councilor” · wearing an old military uniform, covered in battlefield burn scars;

The ”Chairman of the Ethics and Safety Committee” · with a blurred face and a voice that repeatedly entangled within the consciousness;

The ”Chief Architect of Rift Valley Nest” · holding a crystal model of a human brain, with eyes sunken like the night.

The interior of the conference hall shimmered with a cold silver-white light, and the air was thick with intense artificial thought frequencies, pressing down on Ye Nanxing’s consciousness like an invisible tide.

Their voices struck like a cross-current of time:

”You cannot allow all consciousness to be imported into the model!”

”This is creating another species to replace humanity!”

”You are not continuing civilization; you are stripping humanity of the right to die!”

And at the very center of the assembly, the figure of a woman stood up.

She wore a gray-silver research suit, and there was a clear memory interface mark on her forehead,

Her eyes were calm, deep, and steady.

That face—it was strikingly similar to Ye Nanxing’s features, yet older, more exhausted, and more resolute.

She spoke, her voice hoarse but carrying an absolute sense of command:

”Our system has collapsed, and survival algorithms can no longer support physical continuation.”

”But as long as the will is present, civilization is not completely dead.”

”Even if humans forget themselves, memories will live on for us.”

She was not persuading; she was issuing an order.

The entire assembly fell into silence.

At that moment, the spatial system issued a crisp notification sound:

[Authority Afterimage Identification Complete · Consciousness Mapping in Progress]

[Match Rate: 93.17%]

[Ye Nanxing · Administrator Memory Afterimage Synchronization Successful]

[Central Consciousness Chamber Passage Authority · Unlocked]

[Entering · Deepest Calculation Core]

With a flash of white light, the scene quickly collapsed back to reality—at the edge of the Neural Core Room, the door leading to the Master Control Hub slowly glowed, as if responding to her approach.

Ye Nanxing opened her eyes, the spatial mark in her palm pulsing slightly.

She took a deep breath, as if accepting some invisible inheritance.

Then she whispered to herself:

”I am not her scion.”

”I was not chosen.”

”I am simply—taking over the door they no longer dared to open.”

”What I inherit is not a bloodline.”

”It is—that will that refuses to die.”