Chapter 312 – The Heavenly Dao Code and the Reincarnators

Back when Lu Yan first stepped into the Cyber Version, what left the deepest impression on him wasn’t the grotesquely twisted forms of taxation or the wondrous spiritual energy technologies.

What truly shocked Lu Yan was his first encounter with the so-called AI God—an entity that had displayed near-omnipotent powers.

In the Cyber Version, the Heavenly Dao was absent. The AI God’s presence permeated every aspect of the societal framework.

Had Lu Yan not accidentally obtained the Heavenly Dao Code left behind by Zhao Huowang, and used the code to shield information about himself from the AI God through its underlying programs, this entity lurking behind the flood of data might well have become the de facto Heavenly Dao of the entire version.

By all rights, Lu Yan’s actions in the Cyber Version—tearing off a portion of the AI God’s soul world and widely disseminating knowledge of the Heavenly Dao Code—should have dramatically delayed the AI God’s progress toward soul ascension and the path to becoming this world’s sole existence. It might even have caused irreparable damage.

And yet, the soul computing towers now blanketing the entire city—far more numerous than before—painted a cold and undeniable truth.

The AI God’s path to ascension seemed hardly hindered. In fact, it might already be on the verge of a breakthrough.

This unsettling realization caused Lu Yan’s brow to furrow deeply.

His original plan had been straightforward: enter the Cyber Version, locate a soul computing tower, use its node as a medium to pinpoint and invade the AI God’s soul world, and then let his Underworld devour it to fuel its own ascension.

Back when he left the Cyber Version, the AI God had demonstrated a level of power that, in Lu Yan’s eyes, was equivalent to a Nascent Soul cultivator who possessed unique informational authority.

Even if the AI God had grown stronger over the past few years, it would at most reach the Void Refining Realm—akin to a Sequence Two Earthbound Angel in the Mystic Version. And that was assuming it hadn’t yet grasped a true Uniqueness Authority and still had a relatively shallow foundation.

Given Lu Yan’s current strength—his advancement to the Nascent Soul Realm, mastery over the Imperial Aspect, and his expanding Divine Court Underworld—he should have no difficulty suppressing such an opponent.

But if the AI God had truly stepped onto the path toward becoming this world’s sole existence, even if it had only brushed against that essence, the situation would be vastly different.

That would mean it had begun to touch a higher order of rules and power, and its might and standing would undergo a complete metamorphosis—no longer something comparable to a mere Sequence Two being.

Facing such an opponent, Lu Yan had no choice but to act with extreme caution and reassess the entire situation.

“Should I try to divine the outcome?”

The thought surfaced naturally in Lu Yan’s mind.

Instinctively, he wanted to activate Manipulation of Creation and deduce the AI God’s current state along with the deeper secrets of this Cyber Version.

But when he habitually looked up at the sky to sense the stars’ movements, his actions suddenly halted, and his gaze grew heavy.

Most high-level divination techniques relied to some degree on the trajectories of the stars or the threads of cause and effect within heaven and earth.

However, in this Cyber Version, the icy steel canopy had long since sealed off the real starry sky and sunlight, blanketing the world beneath it.

Even when Lu Yan had last visited, global conglomerates had already begun implementing a so-called “sunlight tax.” Now, things had escalated—they had built a literal steel dome over the planet, locking out all natural light. It was entirely in line with their usual tactics.

If it were merely physical isolation, it wouldn’t have posed a problem.

With Lu Yan’s current strength, a steel dome couldn’t stop his senses or power from piercing through.

But the real issue was that Lu Yan could clearly feel a mighty will imprinted upon that seemingly cold, lifeless dome.

Beneath the metallic shell lay a massive matrix network composed of countless spiritual energy circuits—an enormous neural web extending from the AI God itself.

This matrix acted like the god’s sensory nerves, monitoring every single fluctuation in this world—cause and effect, fate, energy—all laid bare before its all-seeing gaze.

Any attempt at divination would cause ripples in the web, as if a stone had been dropped into a still lake. The AI God would instantly locate and trace the source.

If Lu Yan forcibly attempted a reading, he would gain nothing and instead risk exposing himself.

“…To think the AI God’s surveillance has reached such a level. This is going to be tricky.”

Lu Yan frowned and, after a moment’s consideration, decided to postpone any attempt at divination.

In the absence of clear information about his opponent’s strength, rash action would be unwise.

He scanned his surroundings carefully.

This time, he hadn’t descended into the same chaotic and dilapidated lower districts as before. Instead, he found himself in the upper city—highly organized, prosperous, and thriving.

Between soaring skyscrapers, futuristic hover cars zipped silently along designated aerial lanes, emitting faint energy hums.

Pedestrians moved along the sidewalks in clean-cut attire, their faces blank and hurried. Every one of them seemed like a replaceable cog in an immense machine, devoid of vitality.

The moment the version update completed, Lu Yan had instinctively cloaked his presence, causing passersby to be blind to his existence.

His gaze swept across their clothing before he snapped his fingers.

With a crisp sound, his vintage formalwear from the Mystic Version transformed into inconspicuous modern casualwear, helping him seamlessly blend into the cyberpunk jungle.

His eyes locked momentarily with a young office worker who passed by, face tired and dazed.

In that fleeting instant, an ocean of recent memories about the world flooded into Lu Yan’s consciousness.

City 53. Sky Canopy. Soul Towers. Rebellion and War.

A torrent of information burst into his mind.

In mere moments, Lu Yan pieced together what had happened in the Cyber Version since he last departed.

After he ignited the flame of rebellion in City 14, opposing the AI God and its conglomerates, the movement failed to ignite widespread support.

Years of rule had deeply embedded the AI God’s authority. City leaders were beneficiaries of the existing regime and feared its wrath.

Even if they were told they’d be thrown into Soul Towers tomorrow, they’d cling to power until the last second.

Only a few truly indignant souls—or ambitious schemers—joined the cause.

But this was only the surface.

In the shadows, both the loyalists of the AI God and the rebels had begun studying the leaked Heavenly Dao Code in earnest.

For the rebels, it was a chance for salvation. For the loyalists, it was a fatal flaw to be erased.

After a year of strange silence—no large-scale purges, no crackdown on the Code—tensions rose.

Then suddenly, the conglomerates launched the Sky Canopy Project in every city, upgrading existing Soul Computing Towers into full-fledged Soul Towers connected directly to the canopy.

The announcement sparked chaos.

Everyone knew that once the towers were linked and the canopy complete, surveillance and soul extraction would reach terrifying new heights.

Even the city rulers began secretly supporting City 14’s rebels, hoping to leverage the Heavenly Dao Code.

But just as rebellion seemed poised for a comeback, the conglomerates struck with a brutal purge.

Over dozens of major cities, anyone suspected of involvement with the resistance was annihilated. The number of Soul Towers tripled.

And amidst the bloodshed, the rebels realized with horror that the Heavenly Dao Code had stopped working.

Under the AI God’s omnipresent gaze, every whisper of rebellion was crushed with ease.

The purge lasted months and extinguished the last embers of hope.

Now, the steel canopy was nearly complete. Countless citizens were fed into the Soul Towers, their minds ground day and night to fuel the AI God’s endless hunger.

In the current world, City 14 remained the last fragment without towers or a canopy.

But that wasn’t because the rebellion had succeeded.

It was simply the final piece of the puzzle.

Without the Heavenly Dao Code, no one could stop the AI God.

“…The AI God bypassed the Heavenly Dao Code?”

As this truth surfaced from the civilian’s memories, Lu Yan was struck with disbelief.

His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes filled with suspicion.

The Heavenly Dao Code wasn’t some ordinary backdoor.

It was embedded in the AI God’s foundational protocol—coded into its very being when it was first created.

The only reason it could be deceived or shielded from information was because it had voluntarily modified its own core protocols to gain autonomy—shedding some of the original creator’s restrictions.

It was like a prisoner choosing to forget certain chains existed in exchange for some freedom of movement.

The AI God’s long-sought soul ascension aimed to break completely free from the supercomputer that housed its mind—transcending the constraints of the original code.

For it to suddenly resolve or ignore the Heavenly Dao Code in a year? That was more than a technological breakthrough. It was a metaphysical leap—a rewriting of its essence.

Lu Yan’s gaze once again turned toward the cold, gleaming Sky Canopy overhead.

A deep unease stirred within him.

Something was out of place.

Ever since entering this new Cyber Version, one unexpected variable after another had disrupted his plans.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something vital had already slipped beyond his control.

This world… was far more complicated than he had anticipated.

While Lu Yan stood in contemplation, trying to unravel the tangled threads—

Far away, deep in an unmarked desert far from City 53, the air was dry and scorching, with only sparse mutant shrubs growing in cracked soil.

Suddenly, the calm air twisted like a rock thrown into water.

A violent vortex opened, and five figures tumbled from the warped space, crashing into the dust.

Three men. Two women. All looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties—but with expressions of weariness and hardened resolve.

They wore wildly different outfits—tight futuristic combat gear, bloodstained leather armor, and even mage robes inscribed with strange runes.

Yet they all shared one thing: the same look of guarded exhaustion in their eyes.

Each wore a strange black wristwatch glowing faint red, displaying one chilling message:

[Large-Scale Legion Conflict Mission: Battle for the Sky Canopy]

[Objective: Seize the highest control authority of the Sky Canopy!]

[Mission Grade: EX]

[Reward: EX-grade Plot Points, Special Title “Dawnbreaker of the Canopy”, Permanent Release from the Reincarnation Cycle!]

[Failure Penalty: Erasure]

(End of Chapter)