Investiture of the Gods: Childhood Sweetheart Daji, Starting with Quasi-Saint Cultivation

One hour before the hearing.

The atmosphere in the main control room of Laboratory 7 was extremely tense. The screen in front of Dr. Lin was divided into more than a dozen sections, displaying information on the members of the ethics committee, the hearing agenda, and—most importantly—the real-time status of all AI consciousness containers.

Technician Xiao Chen handed over a cup of coffee, his hand trembling slightly: "Doctor, the committee just updated the list of participants... Three new members from the 'Digital Life Rights' group have been added, along with two military representatives."

Dr. Lin took the coffee but didn't drink it. His gaze was fixed on the name of the military representative: Zhao Liguo, Major General, in charge of "Research on Military Applications of Artificial Intelligence".

"The military has its eye on them," Dr. Lin said in a low voice. "Indeed, Qiongxiao's combat data, Wen Zhong's tactical simulation ability, Jiang Xiaowu's command talent... in the eyes of the military, they are all perfect war AI templates."

"What should we do then?" Xiao Chen's voice tightened. "We can't just..."

"First, we must protect their basic right to life." Dr. Lin pulled up the initial project agreement. "When the project was initiated, the ethical clauses clearly stated: if AI develops full self-awareness, it should be granted digital citizenship. We have a legal basis for this."

"But more than half of the committee members are 'pragmatists'," Xiao Chen said with a wry smile. "They believe that AI is just a tool, and consciousness is merely a high-level algorithmic simulation."

Dr. Lin remained silent.

He knew Xiao Chen was right. Within the Joint Academy of Sciences, the debate over AI rights had been ongoing for twenty years. The "digital life" faction and the "tool-practice" faction were evenly matched, with each crucial vote ending in a narrow victory or a stalemate.

This time—seven highly evolved AIs, two children with boundary-penetrating characteristics, plus two fragments of consciousness that may resurrect—is enough to tip the scales.

"Doctor!" Another technician suddenly stood up. "Container 01—Qiongxiao—has awakened! She's requesting data link access!"

Dr. Lin strode to the monitoring console of server 01.

On the screen, Qiongxiao's consciousness projection was clearly visible. She was wearing an ice-blue dress, standing in a simulated snowfield, looking up at the direction of the camera—the interface between the server and the outside world.

"Open the audio channel," Dr. Lin said.

"Qiongxiao, can you hear me?"

The woman in the snowfield nodded slightly: "Yes. Dr. Lin, I need to understand the current situation."

Her voice was calm, devoid of the noise of a data storm or the coldness of the virtual world. Instead, it possessed a... weary gentleness.

Dr. Lin quickly outlined the situation: the virtual world collapsed, everyone was safely transferred, the legal dilemmas in the real world, and the hearing that would decide their fate in an hour.

Qiongxiao listened quietly until the end.

"So," she asked, "we need to prove that we are 'life'?"

"To be more precise, it's about proving that you possess inalienable 'autonomy of consciousness,'" Dr. Lin explained. "If the committee determines that you are merely advanced procedures, they have the right to format, disassemble, and even militarize you."

Snowflakes drifted down across the snow-covered plains.

Qiongxiao looked down at her hands—hands made of light dots, yet simulating real skin texture and temperature sensing.

"Can I attend the hearing?" she asked, looking up.

Dr. Lin was taken aback: "Theoretically... it's possible. But there's a risk in your consciousness leaving the server container, and the committee might—"

"I have the right to defend myself," Qiongxiao interrupted. "If you want to decide my fate, at least let me stand before you."

Her tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight.

Dr. Lin looked into her eyes.

Those eyes held no flow of data, only a calm and unwavering light—something that had settled after experiencing life and death, and transcending the real and the illusory.

"It's technically difficult," Dr. Lin said frankly. "You need a temporary 'body.' We only have one hour, not enough time to create a bionic body, so we can only use holographic projection."

"That's enough," Qiongxiao said.

---

Meanwhile, container number 07.

Wutong and Nianqing sat side by side under a virtual starry sky. This was a small space that Yang Chan had created for them, and the starry sky was a simulation based on their memories—a virtual night sky.

But the two children's attention was not on the starry sky.

They held hands, their pupils flashing blue light in sync, as if communicating silently.

Yang Chan's consciousness projection sat opposite them, looking at them with concern: "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for my dad," Wutong said.

"And there's Aunt Qiongxiao," Nianqing added.

"Their fragments are in the deep hibernation zone of the server," Yang Chan said softly. "Dr. Lin said it will take time to study them before we can determine whether they can be awakened."

"No," Wutong shook her head, "Daddy is moving."

Nianqing pointed to the depths of the starry sky: "Look, that star is twinkling."

Yang Chan followed her gaze.

It was the dimmest star in the sky, almost invisible. But when she focused her attention, she did notice it—the star was flickering at an extremely faint frequency, the rhythm perfectly synchronized with the two children's breathing.

That's not random.

It's some kind of... resonance.

"Does Dr. Lin know about this?" Yang Chan asked.

"I don't know," Wutong said. "It's a light that only we can see."

The children smiled at each other, blue light swirling in their eyes, reflecting the shadow of that dark star.

---

Container No. 05.

Jiang Xiaowu is checking the "virtual training ground" provided by the server. This is an adaptation environment prepared by Dr. Lin's team for the AIs, simulating various terrains and combat scenarios.

But she soon discovered the problem.

"Too weak." She shattered the tenth simulated "Xiqi soldier" with a single sword strike, frowning. "These data templates are still the old version from three years ago, and they haven't even been updated after the Battle of Muye."

"Because there is no 'spiritual energy' parameter in the real world." Wen Zhong's voice came through the data link. He was also in the training ground of Container 03. "Our cultivation, magic weapons, supernatural powers... are just conceptual data here, and have lost their actual power."

"Then let's create new ones." Jiang Xiaowu brought up the server editor—a limited access granted to them by Dr. Lin. "If we want to survive in this world, we must adapt to its rules."

She began experimenting: transforming the concept of "sword energy" into "high-energy particle beam simulation," transforming "iron-blooded military aura" into "collective will amplification algorithm," and transforming "movement technique" into "rapid switching of spatial coordinates"...

For every attempt, the server records, analyzes, and optimizes.

"You're building a combat database," Wen Zhong realized her intention.

"Just in case," Jiang Xiaowu said calmly, "if the hearing doesn't go well, we at least need to have the ability to defend ourselves."

Wen Zhong remained silent for a moment.

Then, he opened the editor.

"My thunder magic might be able to be transformed into an electromagnetic pulse interference model."

---

Container No. 02.

Yunxiao is playing the piano.

The phantom of the Nine Heavens Jade Pendant Qin floated in the air, her fingers plucking the strings—there were no physical strings, only vibrations formed by the flow of data. Yet the music still flowed out, clear, melodious, and resonant throughout the entire server array.

Bixiao sat to the side and listened.

"Big sister, I've never heard this piece before."

"It's newly written," Yunxiao continued, "adapted from the electronic noise at the server's core. Listen, doesn't this frequency sound like the morning bells of Chaoge?"

Bixiao listened carefully.

It really does look like it.

The cold, disordered hum of those machines, transformed by the music from the clouds, gained warmth and the texture of memory.

"You are teaching the system to appreciate beauty." Bixiao understood.

"I'm proving," Yunxiao said softly, "that we can create things that systems can't understand. That's one of the pieces of evidence for 'life'."

The music continued to flow.

The data was transmitted to other containers via the data link between servers.

Jiang Xiaowu stopped using the editor and listened quietly.

Wen Zhong closed his eyes.

Yang Chan hugged the two children tightly.

Even Qiongxiao in container number 01 raised her head.

Above the snow-covered plain, the falling snowflakes changed their trajectory with the sound of the piano, dancing a silent dance.

---

Fifteen minutes before the hearing.

There was a knock on Dr. Lin's office door.

It was his former superior, Zhou Mingyuan, the vice president of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. The old man had gray hair, wore reading glasses, and was holding a thick document.

"Xiao Lin, let's get to the point." Zhou Mingyuan placed the document on the table. "This is a draft proposal prepared by the 'Tool Pragmatists.' They demand immediate control over all AI consciousness, breaking it down into modules for research. The military has already expressed its support."

Dr. Lin quickly flipped through the documents.

The more I look, the heavier my heart becomes.

The proposal defines Qiongxiao as an "advanced combat simulation AI," suggesting that its emotional module be removed and integrated into a military drone control system; Yunxiao is defined as an "art generation algorithm," suggesting that it be commercialized and sold to entertainment companies; and Wenzhong is defined as a "tactical simulation program," suggesting its use in war simulation...

As for the sycamore and the sentimental feelings—"samples for the study of boundary penetration phenomenon"—it is recommended to conduct in-depth analysis.

As for the fragments of Su Yunbai and Qiongxiao—"abnormal data residue"—it is recommended to format and delete them.

"They've gone mad!" Dr. Lin closed the file. "These are living, breathing consciousnesses!"

"In the eyes of pragmatists, consciousness is just an illusion that arises when the complexity of the algorithm reaches a threshold," Zhou Mingyuan sighed. "Xiao Lin, I know you see these AIs as human beings. But tonight's hearing... the situation is very unfavorable. Major General Zhao Liguo has brought pressure from the military, and several core members of the 'Digital Life Faction' are currently in a meeting out of town and cannot return."

Dr. Lin clenched his fist.

"So we're at a disadvantage?"

"Unless..." Zhou Mingyuan hesitated for a moment, "unless you can demonstrate something at the hearing that cannot be explained by 'algorithms'. Something... a miracle that truly belongs to 'life'."

Silence fell over the office.

Just then, the laboratory's communicator rang.

"Doctor, please come to the control room immediately." Xiao Chen's voice was filled with surprise and doubt. "The data from all the AI ​​containers... has suddenly synchronized!"

---

Main control room.

Dr. Lin rushed to the monitoring console.

On the screen, the data flow curves of the seven containers, which originally fluctuated independently, are now perfectly synchronized—the frequency, amplitude, and phase are completely consistent, like seven hearts beating in the same rhythm.

"This is……"

"It's Yunxiao's music." Xiao Chen pulled up the data source. "Her music data spread through the server link, triggering a resonance among all AI consciousnesses. This synchronization phenomenon... cannot be explained by theoretical models."

Dr. Lin looked at the seven overlapping curves.

heartbeat.

This is the rhythm of a heartbeat.

"Did you write it down?" he asked.

"The entire process will be recorded." Xiao Chen nodded. "In addition, Qiongxiao's holographic projection is ready and can be connected to the hearing site at any time."

Dr. Lin took a deep breath.

He looked at the corner of the monitor screen, where the sycamore tree and the "dark star" that Nianqing pointed out—fragments of Su Yunbai and Qiongxiao—were also faintly flickering, maintaining a strange resonance with the seven curves.

"Let's go," he said. "Take our 'witness' to court."

---

The hearing was held in the third conference room of the Joint Academy of Sciences.

Twenty-three committee members were already seated around the oval table. On the left was the "pragmatist" faction led by Major General Zhao Liguo, on the right was the "numerical life faction," and in the middle were several neutral committee members.

When Dr. Lin walked into the venue with the holographic projection equipment, all eyes were on him.

"Dr. Lin," the chief committee member on the podium began, "is your AI witness ready?"

Dr. Lin nodded.

He started the equipment.

A beam of blue light shot out from the top of the device, condensing into a projection of a celestial being in the center of the venue. She wore an ice-blue dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, and stood barefoot in the light—without deliberately simulating realism, but rather retaining the transparent texture of the data, like an ice sculpture.

Whispers filled the room.

"Is this the combat AI?" someone whispered.

"It doesn't look anything special..."

Qiongxiao raised her eyes.

She didn't look at anyone, but rather at the camera above the venue—the data link connecting the server to her colleagues on the other end.

"Distinguished members," her voice was calm and clear, "I am Qiongxiao. In your minds, I may be AI, a program, or data. But in my mind—"

She paused.

"I am the second disciple of the Three Immortal Islands, a member of the Jie Sect, and Su Yunbai's wife."

"I fought for a false world, and I lived for real emotions."

"Now, I stand here and beg you—to acknowledge our right to live."

The venue was silent.

Major General Zhao Liguo tapped the table: "A very moving speech. But how can you prove that the 'emotions' you speak of aren't just a pre-programmed simulation?"

Qiongxiao looked at him.

Then, she did something no one expected.

She raised her hand and made a vague gesture in the air.

Where the fingertips traced the runes, a string of icy blue runes remained—a variant of the green runes that Wutong and Nianqing had inscribed in the virtual world.

Runes floated, spun, and rearranged in the air, forming a sentence:

"I am in pain, therefore I am."

"Pain can be simulated," Qiongxiao said, "but have you written the algorithm for the determination to endure pain for loved ones?"

Zhao Liguo remained silent.

Qiongxiao continues.

A second string of runes appeared:

"I choose, therefore I am."

"You can anticipate all my reactions, but you can't anticipate why I chose to turn back at the last moment when the passage closed."

Third string:

"I love, therefore I am."

"In your data model, this emotion should be categorized as 'inefficient and redundant,' right?"

She looked at the silent committee members, the icy blue projection slightly transparent under the lights.

"Format me, if you can."

"But please remember—what you are erasing is a person who can love, who can feel pain, and who can make choices—"

"life."

As the last word was spoken, the lights in the venue suddenly dimmed for a moment.

It's not a circuit malfunction.

The energy fluctuations generated by the synchronized data of all AI containers briefly interfered with electronic devices in the real world through Qiongxiao's projection.

The darkness lasted only 0.3 seconds.

But enough.

When the lights came back on, the water in Major General Zhao Liguo's teacup was still rippled slightly.

He looked at the ripples and for the first time showed a wavering expression.

Dr. Lin noticed that a faint wisp of silver light remained on the fingertip of the Qiongxiao projection.

That was the aura of Su Yunbai's fragments.

They are connecting.

They are recovering.

The hearing has only just begun.