Gao Wu: I inherited the evil organization in the game

Chapter 590 Everything is Guided by Fate (Part 2)

The red dragonfly smiled, a smile that was exceptionally alluring.

It was worth it for her to volunteer for the task of stopping the car.

Although Wu Shou wasn't stopped by her beauty, which made her slightly displeased, Wu Shou was still a bit interesting.

As a result, the taxi shook violently back and forth...

5 minute later.

Wu Shou felt that life was too meaningless. There was no such thing as good fortune after surviving a great calamity; it was clearly a case of surviving a great calamity only to face another one.

There is no bottoming out and rebounding; there is only a bottom below the bottom.

Wu Shou slumped in the passenger seat like a corpse with its bones removed, all his harsh words turning into weak, pitiful, and helpless sobs.

He seemed to understand why refusing to pick up passengers would result in the revocation of his driver's license.

Yes, he might die, because the passenger seat is only for the dead, he said that himself.
Red Dragonfly politely switched seats with Wu Shou and is now elegantly holding the steering wheel.

Wu Shou cautiously glanced through the rearview mirror at the three men who had just boarded and were sitting in the back seat.

A bald head, reflecting a glossy sheen in the dim light;
A man dressed in a well-tailored black suit had his eyes rolled back in an eerie way.
Another was shrouded in the shadow of a large hoodie, holding a refrigerated storage box in his hand.

As for who they were, where they came from, and where they were going, Wu Shou didn't know and dared not ask.

“Refusing to take you is impolite. We don’t actually want to hurt you, so…”

The emcee peeked out from the back row, wearing a "I'm the good guy" expression, and explained to Wu Shou.

Wu Shou's shoulder blades were broken, and he couldn't even turn his neck, yet he was unusually understanding and said:

"I understand, I understand, it's my fault, I wasn't professional enough."

Red Dragonfly glanced sideways at the passenger seat, licking her lips with her bright red tongue. She still preferred Wu Shou's fierce and menacing appearance just now.

The emcee then reassured them:

"It is a great virtue to admit one's mistakes and correct them. How about this, you take us somewhere, and we will forgive you and let bygones be bygones."

Wu Shou: "..."

Please forgive me, thank you so much.

Wu Shou wasn't stupid. After being beaten half to death, his intellectual potential was greatly stimulated, and he roughly guessed the intentions of these madmen.

No, if you're looking for someone, just say so. Why resort to such violence?

Although he's not very cooperative with non-violent methods.

Unless you can reveal a "skin" even more terrifying than the Black King of Hell, simply sticking out your tongue won't scare him.

Seeing that Wu Shou obediently agreed, the master of ceremonies then told him the destination—Zuo Bai.

Wu Shou used his only remaining functional right hand to reach for his phone. Red Dragonfly had deliberately left this arm for him, clearly for this very moment.

He endured the excruciating pain to unlock the screen and enter the heavily encrypted password into the navigation app.

When Wu Shou entered "Zuobai" as the navigation destination, tears of humiliation streamed down his face.

He's a corpse retriever, okay? His real job is retrieving corpses; being a taxi driver is just a cover for him.

Why do Black Yama and these unknown lunatics all seem to genuinely consider themselves taxi drivers?
Please, can you guys at least show some respect for those who retrieve corpses?!

The emcee waited a while, then considerately reminded him:
"You can take us to the right destination, right? Taking us to the wrong place is more serious than refusing to pick us up, is that alright?"

Wu Shou glanced at the enlarged photo on the emcee's phone, quickly searching for and comparing destinations with the same name, and said decisively:

"Please rest assured, my only mission as a taxi driver is to get passengers to the right place as quickly as possible!"

The destination has been matched.

The phone navigation app beeped with a notification sound.

"Coordinates locked, planning your route to [Zuobai]!"

The emcee smiled with satisfaction. He leaned forward, stretched out his arm, and walked around Wu Shou's body. This action made the latter's heart jump into his throat.

"Click."

With a soft click, the emcee considerately and steadily fastened the seatbelt onto Wu Shou's body.

The emcee smiled and reassured her:
"Don't be afraid. I'm a person who follows the rules the most. As long as you take us to our destination, we will definitely not hold you responsible for refusing to carry us."

The fact that your seatbelt is on is the best proof; someone who strictly follows traffic rules is bound to be a rule-abiding person...right?
Wu Shou swallowed hard, forced a smile, and then hesitated before asking:
"Thank you, thank you so much. By the way, could you tell me who you are? I don't mean anything by it, I'm just a little curious. If it's inconvenient to say, that's fine..."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a strong sense of regret gripped him, and he wished he could immediately pull his tongue out by the roots!
Curiosity killed the cat. Asking this kind of question at a time like this is practically asking for trouble!

The emcee smiled but remained silent. Just when Wu Shou thought the other party wouldn't answer, the latter glanced at the bald captain.

The bald captain was very satisfied with the emcee's attitude. When it comes to introducing identities, only the captain can do it with authority.

The bald captain grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, and said, word by word:

"Everything is guided by fate!"

"[destiny]……?"

Wu Shou subconsciously repeated it, his mind blank.

His pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints, and his face instantly turned ashen.

Long live!
This time it's truly a matter of life and death, ten times worse than when I ran into the Black King of Hell, no, a hundred times worse.

Wu Shou now deeply regrets asking that unnecessary question, and wonders why he wasn't deaf.

What he regrets even more is why he was so blinded by greed to join the corpse retrievers... oops, I mean, the taxi "union".

Corpse retrievers my ass.

In the eyes of the "Black King of Hell," you are a taxi driver;
In the eyes of "[fate]", you are also a taxi driver;

Then you're a genuine, unadulterated taxi driver!

Got it. From now on, I'll be a taxi driver, and retrieving corpses will be my side job.

Oh, wait, I'll find a way to quit the membership when I get back. Let whoever wants to drive this taxi drive it, I'll never drive it again, even if you kill me.

If... if I have another chance to be killed later...

.........

The railway network left over from the ancient era has now mostly turned into rusty scrap iron.

Because the various districts are separated by vast and dangerous ruins, four-wheeled cars can cross them, but trains that can only travel along tracks absolutely cannot.

No one knows which section of track will suddenly break at any moment, and even if it is repaired, it will be destroyed again in a short time.

Most deadly of all, the roaming undead, mutated monsters, and even scavengers in the ruins would treat the trains that entered as...moving buffet cars. After the establishment of the New Era, the ruling government spent decades trying to reopen the rail transport system, but ultimately failed.

Until the upper city floated into the air and blocked out the sky, the railway tracks on the ground were completely forgotten, leaving only the sighs of wind, sand and rust.

At this moment, on the edge of District 9, there is a huge, long-abandoned freight train station.

Over the years, the railway tracks have been covered with dark red rust, and in some places they have even become twisted and deformed, deeply embedded in the gravel roadbed.

This place was once a logistics hub in the last era, but now all that remains are endless, dilapidated warehouse frames and mountains of abandoned containers.

These containers, varying in degree of rust, are stacked haphazardly, like giant building blocks carelessly discarded.

Some of them were squeezed and deformed, with jagged dents covering the walls of the boxes;

Some of the boxes had their doors wide open, revealing dark, gaping spaces inside, like the gaping maw of a monster.

The wind blew through the gaps between the containers, making a low, mournful "sobbing" sound, stirring up the moldy and rusty waste on the ground, adding to the desolation and eeriness.

The enormous shadow, stretched long and twisted under the lights of the upper town, resembled a colossal beast that had been dead for 200 years but still refused to be buried.

Deep within this forest of containers lies a standard shipping container that appears utterly unremarkable.

Its appearance was even worse than its peers, with the box covered in dark brown rust and the paint long since peeled off, revealing the rough, equally rusty metal underneath.

However, hidden inside is a completely different miniature laboratory filled with sophisticated technology.

The inner walls of the container are not bare iron sheets, but are covered with a layer of matte special alloy sheet with strong sound insulation properties.

On the wall, several high-definition holographic projection screens of different sizes and shapes floated, silently displaying massive amounts of data and complex charts.

A pale blue light stream intertwined and danced on the screen, illuminating the barely perceptible dust particles in the air.

In the center of the container is a silver-white metal workbench that occupies most of the space.

The surface of the table is as smooth as a mirror, and its interior clearly integrates a powerful computing core and energy system, emitting a deep and stable hum.

Above the workbench, several slender and flexible silver-white robotic arms hang down, some still and waiting, others working precisely in coordination.

A tiny electric arc flickers at the end of one robotic arm as it welds a chip substrate the size of a fingernail; another extends an extremely fine probe, inspecting rows of micro-components.

Next to the workbench, a similarly silver-white cylindrical hibernation pod was in the open position.

The canopy is semi-transparent, and the complex life support system and neural interface circuitry inside are clearly visible, emitting a soft, pale green standby light at this moment.

The cabin walls were soft and smooth, with faint indentations left by people lying down.

Zuo Bai, right here!
Or rather, the true leftist has always been here.

Rather than saying that after being attacked by [Fate], he did not escape back to District Six, but instead escaped back to the Immortal Technology Company.

Rather, it's more accurate to say that Zuo Bai never left District Nine.

Everyone thought that Zuo Bai in the company was his original self, and the one hidden in the refrigerated truck was his backup clone, but in reality, they were all clones.

His true form has always been hidden in the safe house in District 9.

These safe houses are both safe houses and laboratories. They are not only secretly located in District 9, but also in other districts.

Over the years, a large portion of the various experimental funds he applied for from the company has been used to secretly build safe houses.

After all, for meticulous scientists, setting up safe houses in each area in advance should be a basic operation.

The reason why its main body chose to hide in the safe house in District 9 is because District 9 is less developed than other districts, and therefore, in the danger assessment of each district, District 9 has long been at the lowest level.

Of course, the lowest risk factor does not mean zero.

That's why his clones all failed in District 9 this time.

In particular, the last clone was destroyed by [Fate].

The danger assessment level in Zone 9 has skyrocketed to the red alert level.

"[Fate] is a huge vortex. Its appearance in District Nine indicates that there are huge problems in District Nine."

After Zuo Bai regained the clone's memories, his first reaction was to escape from District Nine.

But the scientist's rationality suppressed the urge to escape—he had to create a new clone and complete the transplantation of the memory core before he could leave.

Otherwise, what if you run into [fate] again as soon as you step outside?

Then he really is going to die.

Don't think it's impossible; when it comes to [fate], anything strange can happen.

Yes, although Zuo Bai has no fewer than ten safe houses, he only has two clones.

Don't think that two bodies are too few; two bodies are a lot, and may even be close to the limit.

After all, who could have predicted that two clones would be destroyed on the same day? The probability of that is extremely low.

The most crucial aspect is the replication of clones, which faces technical bottlenecks that have yet to be overcome.

The replication of memories, rather than the physical body, has enormous limitations and...bugs?!

Zuo Bai wasn't even sure if this could be called a bug.

In short, setting aside the rigorous academic arguments of scientists, and explaining it in simple language that most foolish carbon-based life forms can understand, it is:

Only one clone can be active at a time.

If two or more are activated simultaneously, serious "data conflicts" and "logical errors" will occur when their memories are updated in sync.

It can lead to schizophrenia, which is the best outcome.

In an even worse scenario, they might doubt each other's authenticity, question the authority of their respective entities, and then rapidly escalate into a tragic self-destruction.

The reason can be attributed to the exclusivity of consciousness for the time being, but Zuo Bai vaguely feels that there is a deeper mystery hidden behind it, but he cannot explore it or solve it at present.

Anyway,

Only one clone can exist at any given time; this is an ironclad rule.

In addition, there is an even more serious problem: the fragility of "memory" itself.

Human memory is not a data file that can be copied and pasted indefinitely.

Each time a memory is copied or uploaded, or injected into the clone's memory storage.

For the original entity, it is like a cruel "cutting" rather than a copy.

This discovery was the conclusion he reached through countless painful experiments and his own experiences.

Of course, most of the suffering involved was experienced by others, and was verified on the company's clone, Zuo Bai. Half of the experimental supplies provided by the company were actually consumed on this...

(End of this chapter)