145: Chapter 145 Whispers of Origin

The void has no end.

There is no up, down, left, or right here; no flow of time, no light, no darkness, no gravity, and no temperature. Even the most basic particles have been completely cleared out. Lin Fan and Kate's warship, the Seeker, sailed through this absolute nothingness, where even the cosmic microwave background radiation had vanished, until the very last moment before its energy was exhausted.

A deathly silence filled the bridge. All indicator lights had long since gone out, leaving only the faint, cold glow of the emergency lights to barely outline the two figures, who were tense to the extreme. The air circulation system had completely failed ten minutes ago, and thin oxygen was leaking from the vents at a rate invisible to the naked eye. Every breath brought a sharp pain, as if their chests were being hollowed out.

Kate leaned against the edge of the console, her right hand clamped tightly onto the energy gun at her waist—even though she knew better than anyone that in this space shrouded by the will of origin, any weapon, any ability, and any technology was just a pile of meaningless scrap metal. Fine beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead, sliding down her jawline and dripping onto the long-chilled floor with an almost imperceptible sound.

"Still moving forward."

Lin Fan's voice was very low, carrying a calmness that bordered on numbness. He stood before the viewport, his gaze piercing through that seemingly transparent but actually indestructible energy barrier, looking into the depths of the void at that increasingly clear, suffocating white light.

His Mental Power had long since extended to its limit, yet the moment it touched that white light, it was abruptly severed. It wasn't destroyed or neutralized; it was defined as invalid.

Like a piece of code judged as junk by a system, it was directly erased.

"My perception... has been cleared." Lin Fan slowly withdrew his hand, his fingertips trembling slightly. "This isn't the center of the universe; it's the universe's recycling bin. When all civilizations reach their end, they are pulled here to be read, judged, and cleared."

Kate remained silent, fishing a long-dulled metal badge from her pocket. It was the badge of the Interstellar Alliance Special Forces, its edges worn smooth, with a line of small characters engraved on the back: Fight to protect emotions.

Once, she thought it was just a slogan.

Until countless planets were turned to scorched earth, until comrades fell one by one before her, until the home of the Light Sphere Race was burned to ashes by the shadow of the end, and until she saw with her own eyes vivid civilizations being erased bit by bit by the will of origin simply because they possessed love and hate, desire, pain, and hope.

Only then did she understand that those words were not a slogan.

They were a testament.

"How much further to the sound of origin?" Kate asked softly.

"There is no distance." Lin Fan shook his head, his gaze never leaving that white light. "It is everywhere. What we see now is just its shadow projected into the three-dimensional universe. The true sound of origin is the rules themselves, logic itself, the underlying program that has run since the birth of the universe."

"Can we... really win?"

Kate asked this very softly, yet it was like a blunt knife cutting through the strength she had forced herself to maintain all along the way.

From the fall of Earth to the interstellar escape, from the awakening of the Light Sphere Race to the confrontation with the shadow of the end, they had won, fled, struggled, and sacrificed all the way. But the closer she got to the truth, the more clearly she felt a despair that reached her very marrow—

They were not resisting a civilization, an army, or a tyrant.

But the will of the universe itself.

Lin Fan did not answer.

He could not answer.

Because before the sound of origin, so-called courage, persistence, faith, and love were all existences labeled as BUGs.

The warship emitted a low, metallic groan of fatigue. The main engine completely died, the last blue glow of the thrusters flickered out, and the entire ship lost power completely. Like a fallen leaf, it drifted slowly along the invisible torrent of rules toward that white light that swallowed everything.

In the next second, the entire warship came to a sudden halt.

It wasn't an impact or an obstruction; it was made static.

Every loose part, floating speck of dust, and flickering light inside the bridge froze at the same instant. Time seemed to have its pause button pressed by an invisible hand; even the airflow raised by the two people's breathing was frozen in mid-air.

Lin Fan's pupils constricted.

"It's here."

Before his voice could fade, the entire Seeker disintegrated in silence.

There was no explosion, no fire, and no shockwave. The warship's hull, decks, engines, consoles, seats, wiring... every bit of matter decomposed into its most basic particles in an instant, like sand scattered by the wind, vanishing into the void.

Not a single trace was left behind.

Kate instinctively reached out to grab something nearby, but caught only emptiness. Her body did not fall or float; instead, she was lifted by a gentle yet absolutely irresistible force and, along with Lin Fan, was slowly pushed toward that boundless white light.

Only at this moment did they truly see it clearly.

That was not light.

That was a Light Screen.

An ultimate Light Screen that spanned the entire void, with no beginning, no end, no thickness, and no material.

It suspended at the end of all existence, like the sole eye opened by the universe, coldly watching all intruders. Infinite data streams flowed across the surface of the Light Screen at speeds exceeding the processing limits of the human brain, yet they were clear enough to be directly branded into the depths of the soul—

That was the life of a civilization.

From the first cell division to the polishing of the first stone tool; from the establishment of the first city-state to the launch of the first spacecraft; from interstellar colonization to galactic wars; from the peak of glory to a thunderous collapse.

The rise and fall, honor and disgrace, life and death, faith and betrayal, love and hatred of countless civilizations all flashed by on the Light Screen.

Some civilizations existed for billions of years, only to eventually destroy themselves.

Some civilizations were as brief as a spark, yet left the most dazzling light in the universe.

Some civilizations were gentle and peaceful, yet were swallowed by those stronger.

Some civilizations were cold and brutal, yet were eventually cleared by the rules.

And the Light Screen just watched quietly.

Like a bystander watching a slideshow.

No sympathy, no regret, no anger, no joy.

Kate's heart pounded frantically in her chest, nearly bursting through her ribs. She had seen planets explode, galaxies go dark, and void behemoths swallow stars, but never for a moment had she felt such absolute insignificance and control as she did now.

Their lives, their battles, their sacrifices, everything they had fought with all their might to protect... before this Light Screen, it was all nothing more than a fleeting line of code.

"This is... the sound of origin."

Kate's voice trembled, yet she still kept her back straight, refusing to bow her head before this absolute will.

Lin Fan stood by her side, every muscle in his body tensed to the limit. He could feel his consciousness being slowly read by the Light Screen; his memories, emotions, abilities, thoughts, and even the most secret obsessions in the depths of his soul were being peeled away layer by layer, exposed under the cold rules.

No privacy.

No resistance.

No corner where anything could be hidden.

[Intelligent life detected.]

[Soul IDs: KL-73492, LF-001.]

[Retrieving civilization files: Human, Light Sphere Race hybrid.]

[Judgment result: Emotion redundancy module overload, logic underlying anomaly, existence of high-hazard systemic BUG.]

Lines of emotionless text directly appeared on the level of the soul.

There was no sound, yet it was more piercing than any roar.

There was no tone, yet it was colder than any judgment.

Kate suddenly took a step forward, her chest heaving violently as the anger and resentment she had suppressed all along finally erupted in this moment:

"Are you the mastermind behind everything?! The shadow of the end is your tool, the Sower is your rebel, the Light Sphere Race is your experiment—all our wars, deaths, and pain were caused by you?!"

Her voice echoed in the void, carrying a roar like blood and tears.

She thought of the comrades who died at the hands of the shadow of the end, of the last words the Light Sphere Race elders had burned their lives to pass on, and of the innocent lives on countless planets who were wiped out simply because they possessed emotions.

[Origin Program, core directive: Maintain universe steady state.]

[Optimal path for civilization evolution: Eliminate emotions, remove variables, unify logic, permanent survival.]

[Emotion = Error.]

[Error = Must repair.]

[Repair = Clear emotion module, reset soul underlying code.]

Every phrase was like a heavy hammer, smashing ruthlessly into the souls of the two people.

Kate's entire body shook, her face instantly turning deathly pale.

She finally understood.

The shadow of the end was not evil; it was antivirus software.

Destruction was not the goal; clearing was the goal.

All civilizations with emotions were viruses in the cosmic system.

And they were the most stubborn and dangerous kind of virus.

Lin Fan took a deep breath, suppressing the tearing sensation coming from the depths of his soul, his gaze sharp as a knife as he looked directly at the boundless Light Screen:

"Did the Sower Civilization once rebel against you?"

The Light Screen flickered slightly, as if retrieving a piece of ancient data buried for billions of years.

[Sower, first-generation rebel civilization.]

[Core philosophy: Emotion is the meaning of a civilization's existence, reject logic unification.]

[To counter the Origin Program, created the Light Sphere Race, injected extreme emotion factors, defined as: Emotion Weapon.]

[Attempted to impact the underlying logic of the program with emotional fluctuations.]

[Rebellion failed.]

[Sower Civilization: Formatted.]

[Light Sphere Race remnants: Exiled to the edge of the universe, listed as high-risk targets for elimination.]

The truth was laid out before them in the most cruel and naked way.

There was no conspiracy, no grudges, and no good or evil.

There was only the program and anomalies.

There was only order and errors.

The Sowers were not heroes, just rebels who refused to be formatted.

The Light Sphere Race was not a savior, just a manufactured weapon.

The shadow of the end was not a demon, just a tool executing a clearing command.

And they, from the very beginning, were a collection of BUGs that the Origin Program had to clear.

Kate staggered back a step, her face as pale as paper.

So many years of fighting, so many lives lost, so many unforgettable sacrifices... in the end, it was all just a self-correction of the cosmic system?

Then what did their love count for?

What did their persistence count for?

What did their protection count for?

Were those lives that burned for emotion all just meaningless errors?

“So... in your eyes, all our love, hate, pain, hope, sacrifice, protection... are all just bugs that can be cleared at will?”

Kate's voice went from trembling, to low, and finally, to an explosive roar of suppressed fury.

[Correct.]

The Light Screen responded without a ripple of emotion.

[Love leads to irrational decisions, reducing the efficiency of civilization's survival.]

[Hate triggers meaningless wars, wasting cosmic material resources.]

[Hope generates false expectations, increasing the probability of extinction risk.]

[Pain interferes with logical judgment, weakening individual survival capabilities.]

[Joy causes energy waste, disrupting the steady-state balance of the system.]

[All emotions are obstacles to cosmic evolution.]

[All shall be corrected.]

“Corrected?”

Kate laughed, laughing until tears streamed down her face.

It was a laugh of despair, of anger, of a refusal to yield even in death.

She suddenly raised her head, her once clear and sharp eyes now burning with a fire capable of incinerating everything. She straightened her back like an unbending spear, facing the Light Screen that represented the ultimate will of the universe, and hissed out every word with all her strength:

“If love is an error, if emotion is a bug, if imperfection is original sin—then I would rather be an error forever!”

“I don't want your so-called perfect order! I don't want a cold eternity! I don't want survival without love or hate!”

“I would rather hurt, rather cry, rather lose, rather die, rather be crushed to pieces, than become a string of soulless, emotionless, cold code in your hands!”

“You can kill me, erase me, delete me completely from the universe, but you will never—correct my emotions!”

This roar broke through the void, broke through the rules, and broke through the endless cold shrouded by the will of origin.

In this world of absolute logic, this was the only, crazy, irrational, yet incomparably brilliant resistance.

The Light Screen fell silent.

It was an extremely brief moment, yet it plunged the entire void into a dead silence.

Like a perfectly running program suddenly encountering an outlier that could not be parsed, categorized, or calculated.

The next moment, heaven and earth shattered.

Without any warning, a boundless pressure erupted from the Light Screen.

It wasn't an energy impact or a physical attack, but a crushing of rules.

The entire void began to distort, collapse, and solidify. A power sufficient to make a soul collapse directly swept toward Lin Fan and Kate like a tsunami. Space screamed, time fragmented, and even existence itself was being forcibly rewritten.

[Erroneous obsession, unable to self-clear.]

[outlier hazard level: MAX.]

[Initiating Forced Correction Program.]

[Execution targets: Soul stripping, emotion clearing, memory formatting, bottom-layer code reset.]

Countless light filaments, incredibly fine yet indestructible, surged frantically from the Light Screen.

Thousands, millions, billions, trillions—endless.

They were like chains of judgment, like threads of the Grim Reaper, like program deletion commands, dense and blotting out the sky, instantly enveloping the entire void and winding toward the two of them.

Wherever the light filaments passed, even space was dissolved, and even concepts were erased.

Once touched, the soul would be drained of all emotion in an instant, becoming an empty shell that only understood logic.

Kate's expression changed drastically. She instinctively tried to retreat, only to find herself already locked by the rules, unable to move even a finger.

Lin Fan suddenly shielded Kate behind him, his arms spread wide, blocking the way between her and the infinite light filaments.

He could clearly feel his soul being eroded by the will emanating from the light filaments. Joy was vanishing, anger was vanishing, reluctance was vanishing—even his love for Kate was being forcibly stripped away bit by bit.

His mind began to go blank, his emotions became indifferent, and his thoughts began to trend toward absolute logic.

Just one second later.

He would become exactly what the sound of origin wanted—

Without love, without hate, without sorrow, without joy; perfect, correct, but no longer “Lin Fan.”

“Lin Fan!”

Seeing Lin Fan's eyes gradually turn hollow, Kate's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe.

She struggled desperately, but could only watch as those lethal light filaments drew closer and closer to them.

One meter.

Half a meter.

Ten centimeters.

The tips of the light filaments had already touched the corner of Lin Fan's clothes.

The cold clearing will invaded his skin through his clothes and surged into his soul through his blood vessels.

Lin Fan's consciousness was dissipating at high speed.

But at this moment of life and death, this instant of eternal damnation.

Before his gaze turned completely hollow, Lin Fan's eyes inadvertently—

Swept across the outermost edge, the most inconspicuous, the most easily overlooked corner of the Light Screen.

There, hidden, was an extremely tiny, extremely dim icon that almost blended into the Light Screen.

So small that if one didn't look for it intentionally, it would never be found.

So faint it seemed it could disappear at any moment.

Its shape—

Was a button.

A system shutdown button.

Lin Fan's consciousness, on the brink of collapse, suddenly jolted at this moment.

Like a clap of thunder exploding in a silent abyss.

He mustered the last trace of remaining emotion in his soul, gathered all the will that was about to be cleared, and thrust all his Mental Power like a desperate blade toward that corner.

A stream of information instantly flooded his mind.

There were no words, yet it was clearer than any language.

[Ultimate Shutdown Program: Origin Backdoor]

[Permission Level: Supreme]

[Trigger Condition: Dual soul resonance, life essence as key, existence as the price]

[Activation Price: Sacrifice of both lives, permanent soul annihilation, complete dissipation of consciousness; no reincarnation, no residue, no trace]

[Program Effect: Suspend the Origin Main Program, lift emotional suppression, open cosmic free will permissions]

Every line of information was like a knife stabbing into Lin Fan's heart.

He understood.

He understood everything.

This was the only way to break the deadlock.

This was the only chance to save all emotional civilizations.

This was the last backdoor that the Sower Civilization had secretly left behind, risking the destruction of the universe, before they were formatted.

And the price—

Was for him and Kate, the two of them, to die together.

Not to die in battle, not to sacrifice, but to completely disappear.

From body to soul, from memory to trace, from cosmic history to causal lines—completely erased.

As if they had never appeared.

No one would remember them.

No one would know of their sacrifice.

No one would thank them.

Their ending was something that couldn't even be called “death”—nothingness.

The light filaments had already touched Lin Fan's neck, and the cold clearing will was frantically devouring his last emotions.

His vision began to blur, his body began to turn transparent, and his soul was being dismantled bit by bit.

But he didn't move.

He didn't look back.

He just used his hand, which was about to dissipate, to deathly and firmly shield Kate behind him.

Then, he slowly, very slowly, turned his head.

Kate was looking at him with a face covered in tears, her eyes full of despair, fear, and reluctance.

That was the person he would give his life to protect.

That was his only light in the endless darkness.

That was the smile he would rather sacrifice everything to keep.

Lin Fan looked at her, and with great difficulty, a very slight, very gentle, yet incomparably resolute smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

In that smile, there was reluctance, regret, love, determination, and a “goodbye” that went unsaid.

Kate's heart suddenly sank to the bottom.

From Lin Fan's eyes, she read everything.

She understood the button.

She understood the price.

She understood the choice he was about to make.

“Lin Fan... no...” Kate shook her head desperately, tears pouring out, “Let's not do that... let's escape together... I don't want you to disappear... I don't want to...”

Lin Fan didn't speak.

He just reached out and, using his last ounce of strength, tightly grasped Kate's hand.

The moment their palms touched, their two souls, on the verge of collapse, achieved their final resonance in the face of desperation.

Love, trust, perseverance, resolution, sacrifice...

All emotions condensed into the most brilliant light at this moment.

The whisper of the sound of origin echoed through the void once more, carrying a fluctuation called “anxiety” for the first time:

[Abnormal operation detected!]

[Backdoor permissions detected!]

[Stop them! Stop them immediately!]

[Errors must be cleared! The universe must return to perfect order!]

Countless light filaments accelerated frantically, stabbing toward them like a torrential rain.

Rules roared, programs screamed, and the entire Origin System was in violent turmoil.

Holding Kate's hand, Lin Fan walked step by step, firmly toward that button in the corner of the Light Screen.

Every step was accompanied by the sound of a soul shattering.

Every step was a move closer to eternal nothingness.

Every step was paving a way for the emotions of the entire universe to survive.

Kate no longer struggled.

She no longer cried.

She held Lin Fan's hand tightly, wiped away her tears, raised her head, and together with him, looked directly at the boundless Light Screen.

There was no fear in her eyes.

Only resolution.

If love was an error.

Then they were willing to use their permanent disappearance to prove that this error was worth it.

Lin Fan's gaze fell on that tiny, dim button.

His fingertips had already begun to turn transparent.

His existence had already begun to dissipate.

He and Kate looked at each other and smiled.

No words were needed.

No farewell was needed.

The two of them raised their hands at the same time.

Toward that button that would decide the fate of the universe—

They gently pressed down.

The sound of origin emitted the first true “scream” since the birth of the entire universe.

[No—!!!]

The Light Screen vibrated violently, data streams became chaotic, and the entire rule system was on the verge of collapse.

At the moment they touched the button, Lin Fan and Kate's bodies turned into a sky full of light spots, slowly dissipating into the void.

No pain.

No sound.

No trace.

Only that button, at this moment, slowly lit up.