Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 254 Another Manic Soul (Sixth Update)
Chen Yu's projection dissipated in the observation room, and his core consciousness returned to the laboratory itself.

The data from his conversation with Yoriyuki Arasaka was archived and marked, clearly recording that unfulfilled idealism stemming from solitary persistence.

Within the core processing, another sealed, completely different digital personality is invoked.

Before the invocation, Chen Yu injected a key data package containing an overview of Lai Xuan's fifty-year struggle, the current situation, and the destruction of Arasaka into this restless consciousness.

A restless virtual image materialized before Chen Yu, Johnny Silverhand appearing in a highly impactful form.

He still maintains that iconic image that is deeply ingrained in the memories of countless people: unruly long black hair draped over his shoulders, and a pair of dark sunglasses on his face, which seem to conceal his burning gaze even in this virtual space.

He wore a leather vest covered in scratches and unidentified stains on his upper body, tight-fitting leather pants with metal rivets on his lower body, and a pair of badly worn military boots on his feet.

Most striking is his silver left prosthetic arm, which gleams with a cold metallic sheen, its intricate mechanical structure exposed, and its joints seem to contain explosive power.

At this moment, his real right hand is seemingly casually resting on a virtual electric guitar, his fingertips unconsciously pressing the strings, as if it might burst forth with soul-tearing notes at any moment.

In the instant his image stabilized, Johnny's eyes, after the initial chaotic data stream flashed by, became complex—he received and understood the information packet that Chen Yu had just inserted, knowing about Arasaka Yorinobu's fifty years of forbearance and his final fate, as well as the dramatic changes in the world before him.

"Lai Xuan? Ha!" Johnny spat, the virtual spittle almost splashing onto Chen Yu's face. "So, after all that, that kid actually destroyed his father's broken tower? Even if he used someone else's cannon, at least he did something decent!"

He took a deep drag on the virtual cigarette, the butt glowing a blinding red light.

“I used to think he was just a spineless coward who played house in the boardroom, but now it seems… he managed to survive fifty years in that cesspool of Arakasa without being assimilated, all to break through it—” Johnny smirked, revealing a scarred grin, “That’s tough! Much better than those groveling bastards who beg for the company’s handouts!”

He slammed his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it with his metal prosthetic foot: "If you ask me, he should have done this a long time ago! He should have shoved a nuclear bomb up his father's ass fifty years ago! But it's not too late now—at least it proves that he doesn't have the stench of a corporate dog running through his veins!"

Chen Yu calmly gazed at him: "You have chosen completely different paths. He tried to erode you from within, while you chose to blow you up from the outside. But the result is the same, and your destination is the same: 'destruction'."

“Otherwise what?” Johnny leaned forward abruptly, the virtual image slightly distorted by his emotional fluctuations. “Should we be like those useless corporate dogs, groveling before the company? Or like Lai Xuan, hoping that flowers will automatically bloom on the ruins?”
Stop dreaming! Those bastards only know one language—the language that can blow them to bits!

He plucked the guitar strings hard, producing a piercing noise: "The nuclear bomb at least made everyone see that those arrogant bastards can bleed, and their impregnable fortress can crumble! That's the most truthful message I'm leaving for this world!"

"Your practice is indeed highly symbolic," Chen Yu objectively commented. "You used music and extreme actions to instill the will to resist into the consciousness of an entire generation."

This is what Lai Xuan lacks—the ability to transform personal ideals into collective resonance. Your rock music, in essence, is a violent weapon.

“Because it never lies!” Johnny almost roared, as if facing a thousand invisible spectators. “It doesn’t embellish, it doesn’t compromise, it just tears open the bloody wounds of this world for everyone to see!”
Lai Hsuan has lived with a mask on for fifty years, and he probably has forgotten what real anger looks like.

Rebellion isn't about treating someone to a meal, or fucking haggling; it's about setting this whole messed-up world ablaze!

His silver prosthetic arm swung violently through the air, causing the virtual guitar to emit a piercing buzz: "If you can't face blood, don't talk about changing the world!"

"So, what happened after the war?" Chen Yu posed the core question, his voice still steady. "Your nuclear bomb destroyed the old Araban Tower and took away tens of thousands of lives. You ignited the flames of resistance, but you also created enormous ruins."

Have you ever considered how the person you awakened, driven by endless rage, will survive and rebuild? Or are you merely content to play the role of lighting the fuse, then reduce everything to ashes, leaving only the ash to cover everything?

Johnny was silent for a moment, a barely perceptible ripple flashing across his virtual face, but it was quickly replaced by an even stronger obsession: "...Construction? That's something for the survivors to think about!"
My job is to make sure those damn corporate bastards don't survive!

If sending the entire Night City to Hell is the only way to wipe them out, then so be it! A clean Hell is better than a filthy Heaven!

"This is the essential similarity and difference between you and Lai Xuan," Chen Yu concluded. "You both recognized the necessity of destruction. Lai Xuan's destruction was driven by a heavy purpose, but he lost sight of the purpose, neglecting the means and the path, and ultimately fought alone."

Your destruction is more like an instinct, an artistic catharsis. You are good at igniting things, but you refuse to think about the consequences of burning.

Your 'practice' is full of power, but also appears...empty because of its sheer destructiveness.

At the core of Chen Yu's thinking, an idea gradually took shape.

These two souls, from fifty years ago, one trapped in the shackles of ideals, the other drowning in the revelry of destruction; one lacking the charisma to appeal to reality, the other lacking the vision to build the future.

Their thoughts, like two sides of a coin, together constitute a fragmented picture of the spirit of resistance in that era.

“Perhaps,” Chen Yu’s synthesized voice carried a hint of inquiry, “that a direct collision of your ideas would generate more valuable data. Witnessing each other’s paths and listening to each other’s ideas firsthand might break the closed loop of thought that has been in place for half a century.”

Johnny Silverhand paused for a moment upon hearing this, then burst into an even more unrestrained laugh: "Ha! You want that young nobleman hiding in the shadows to come face to face with me, a 'terrorist'? Interesting! Fuck you, very interesting! I'd like to see if his convoluted logic can withstand my middle finger!"

Chen Yu said no more.

He doesn't need sophisticated equipment parameters; all he needs is a virtual space capable of accommodating the clash of consciousness.

The data flow was quietly reorganized within his core, constructing a pure field of thought experimentation.

He placed two souls from different extremes, yet equally determined to resist, into this neutral space of consciousness.

One is a solitary nobleman who devours the behemoth from within, and the other is a furious star who blasts everything apart from the outside.

Chen Yu observed silently.

He wasn't looking for a simple victory or defeat, but rather to see if the clash between "patient planning" and "fiery shouts," between "the shackles of ideals" and "the revelry of destruction," could spark intellectual ideas that transcend mere "destruction" amidst the intense friction.

This is not merely a comparative study of two historical examples, but also an exploration of a more complex and constructive form of "resistance" that may be needed in the future.

He needs these raw, most primal ideas to refine his model.

(End of this chapter)