Counterfeit Hero

"The little girl?" Fatty immediately remembered the navigation log he saw in the cave at Gazalin. The ancient Earth scientist named Chen Xiuqi referred to Pipi as a kid. He added ’Pi’ in the middle of the name, turning it into ’little kid.’ It’s always been quite a mystery to Fatty that artificial intelligence could have a gender. And the names ’little kid’ and ’little girl’ strangely reminded him of Adam and Eve.

So, who is God?!

"Thirty years ago, after the Binart Empire was defeated, it was fully suppressed by Feiyang in all fields," Hastings said slowly. "Originally, this country should have been in decline, but unexpectedly, over the past twenty years, the national power of the Binart Empire has progressed tremendously."

"Is it because of that ’little girl’?" Fatty said in surprise.

Hastings nodded: "We paid a great price to gain this intelligence. With the help of this artificial intelligence, the resources of the Binart Empire have been utilized to the fullest. If the resources of various countries hadn’t been squandered for thousands of years, there’d be little left; Binart would have been able to drag Fei Alliance down without needing to start a war."

Fatty was silent for a while. He knew that, in fact, it was Pipi who, during the last few months in the Federation, gathered all resources and established a similar integration platform, allowing the Atlantis Star Domain of Leray to maintain itself and giving rise to the Hidden Blade Fleet led by Russell.

Boswell had once been fixated on this, thinking that if Pipi had arrived in Leray a year earlier, Leray might have been in a different situation.

Hastings sighed and said, "I never thought that my later years would be spent battling a little girl. What surprised me even more is when, as my life countdown started, Margaret came back to tell me that there’s an artificial intelligence beside you."

"You know what my first thought was when I got this news?" Hastings looked at Fatty.

Fatty shook his head.

"I was thinking whether God wants to save humanity or destroy humanity." Hastings’ gaze went past Fatty, looking at the star-studded night outside the window. "We’ve welcomed an era worth cheering for, but unfortunately, nobody knows whether we stand at the gates of heaven or the gates of hell."

After a long while, Hastings took out a miniature electronic file from his pocket and handed it to Fatty, indicating for him to open the virtual screen built into the file.

Numerous blue lights emitted by the file intertwined in mid-air to create a blue planet. The planet kept enlarging. White clouds, a blue sea, and a green land came rushing forth.

Seeing this planet and its companion, Fatty knew that this planet was the origin of human civilization, every human’s home—Earth.

"Do you know the Light Society?" Hastings asked abruptly.

The phrase ’Light Society’ quickly shifted Fatty’s focus away from the screen. He turned his head sharply to look at Hastings, almost reflexively.

On the screen, ancient spacecraft flew out of Earth’s atmosphere, heading towards the distant interstellar space, disappearing into the room’s air. Beside the image, flowing text narrated that great era and the emergence of an organization starting from that time.

"Symbolizing the quest for illumination," Hastings seemed completely unaware as he quietly watched the screen. "Perhaps I should describe it as the greatest and most mysterious illegal organization in human history."

"Illegal organization?" Fatty glared at Hastings, wanting to hit Hastings’ head with the electronic file. "My parents worked for the illegal organization you’re talking about."

"And died in a plane crash twenty years ago," Hastings said, not even glancing at Fatty, calmly.

"Clearly," Fatty was not surprised, smirking, "I guess you could investigate when I first had a wet dream."

"Seventeen years old, the next day you told the girl sitting next to you that your ’junior’ had foamed at the mouth. That girl still remembers whether your expression was of fear or pride," Hastings thought for a moment and said, "There’s just such an excerpt in your investigation file. But to be honest, at seventeen, dreaming for the first time, didn’t you develop a bit late?"

"You don’t know shit!" Fatty erupted with anger, ignoring whether Hastings was a Military God, lifting his crotch in protest. "It’s called a late bloomer, don’t you understand?!"

Hastings turned his head away, ignoring Fatty altogether.

Fatty angrily moved to unbuckle his pants.

The fruit knife in Hastings’ hand spun swiftly on his fingertips, for the first time in decades, he felt a sense of helplessness: "Modern technology has removed unhealthy genes over two thousand years ago. If you want to know your size, you should ask the physician who performed gene optimization when you were a newborn. That’s much safer than foolishly exposing your ’great tool’ and risking a knife cut."

"What were we talking about?" Fatty glanced at the fruit knife in Hastings’ hand, then looked down at his own undersized "junior," reluctantly letting go of his pants.

Hastings shook his head, feeling a bittersweet relief. He had to admit that enduring bullets and daggers, losing both legs, facing countless fierce and cunning enemies, going through much betrayal and danger, didn’t come close to the shock of a simpleton like Fatty seriously unbuckling his pants.