Elf Archer of Life in Another World

Real world, country H.

Many of the buildings here do not have artistic beauty, but when these precisely measured geometries are perfectly planned together, a practical and simple feature born from functionalism also has a shocking tension.

Perhaps it is precisely in order to neutralize the coldness hidden in this tension that the central mastermind of H country "Frankenstein" has included the painting of building exterior walls in his work schedule.

Colors and patterns, from a psychological point of view, have the most efficient implications for the viewer's mood.

Now in early spring in March, the moist airflow from the ocean brings another rain. The leaves rustle softly in the rain, competing for warmth with the bright yellow building exterior walls.

Dr. Walton stepped out of the elevator and saw young people scattered throughout the lounge.

Lunch break.

Before he frowned, Dr. Walton took the lead to find a reason for himself to calm down. He glanced at the sleepy young people, then looked up at the high glass patio, and probably guessed the lounge today. theme.

He has spent two-thirds of his life in country H, and is trying hard to catch up with death and double the numbers in the numerator and denominator.

The lounge of their building is an open and large holographic experience room.

After walking through an invisible wall, what those young people are enjoying is sitting in front of a warm fireplace, listening to the crackle of firewood and the sound of rain. It is a laziness separated from the current environment and time, and it is so unbelievable that there is no one else around. Envy.

Remember m in a second.

Dr. Walton doesn't like these lazy young people.

He also admitted that he was jealous of these young people and the time they had to spend on idleness.

But this kind of jealousy is not a bad thing, at least not according to Dr. Walton.

Every morning, when he opens his eyes, he is looking forward to the unknown new day, which will allow some of the ongoing projects in H's country to break out into miraculous breakthroughs, giving him a chance to defy aging and death.

This made him inevitably slip into the embrace of religion, praying to the gods for a scientific miracle.

And this also reminded him of a project a few years ago, and he would occasionally put himself into it to explore the possibility of his aging body surviving in that project.

Dr. Walton turned around and decided that he should take a short nap before returning to his office to continue working.

Just as he turned around, a fellow traveler following him crossed his mind, passed by him, and hurried into the elevator.

Dr. Walton stopped, recovered slightly, focused his attention, and played back the appearance of the person just now.

That was also a young man, the type he didn't like very much.

Albert, the leader of the consciousness uploading project team, is currently the main planner of the most advanced "game" project in the world that can make things look real and fake.

Is he here again?

"Ah, good afternoon, Dr. Walton."

Dr. Walton moved his gaze slowly to show that he was neither distracted again nor unresponsive, just relatively composed - relative to the young man who had greeted him.

"good afternoon."

The young man opposite was holding a cup made of biodegradable material in his hand. The unique sweet smell of cocoa wafting out from the gap in the lid showed that this was not a refreshing drink.

"Then I'm going to take a rest." The young man pointed to the hall and smiled politely.

"Um - wait!"

Dr. Walton's call was too quick, and his tone was a little urgent. The young man stopped unconsciously, and the hot cocoa in his hand slightly overflowed from the small opening on the lid of the cup.

"PhD?"

The young man was also nervous. Although Dr. Walton was inhumanly serious, he was rarely so hurried.

"You have a good personal relationship with Albert?"

Dr. Walton was not used to such conversations inquiring into personal matters, and still adopted a business-like tone.

"Yes, yes, we are in the same school but in different grades, and we worked together on the same topic during our studies."

The young man was a little embarrassed, and even more uneasy thinking of Albert's recent frequent inquiries.

"He seems to come to you a lot lately." Dr. Walton said calmly.

It was an affirmative sentence, but both he and the young man knew it was the opening line of questioning.

"He, he," the young man pursed his lips and sighed, "he came to me because of the little girl named Nian Nian a few years ago."

It was a disastrous failure, the only failure of that perfect experiment. He felt sorry for the money and manpower invested in that project, and also felt sorry for the naughty little girl.

"What did you tell him?"

Hearing this name, Dr. Walton's eyes dimmed a little.

"I didn't say anything about the details of the project, but," the young man struggled for a moment, and confessed in a responsible manner, "He seems to have inquired about a lot of details from other places."

"What did he tell you?" Dr. Walton asked warily.

It was not an experimental project that perfectly followed humanitarian dogma. The whole thing was buried deep in the core of "Frankenstein".

After the experimental subject died unexpectedly, Dr. Walton rarely lost his composure and tried every means to save the dissipated consciousness. This attracted the attention of other project teams and exposed some of the unknown cruelty to the air. middle.

Some things, heard secretly and known publicly, will lead to two completely different attitudes.

In particular, when the independent consciousness that had been replaced by machine modification gained the ability to sneak into the structure of "Frankenstein" and directly communicate with it, many threatening speculations became rampant, delaying Dr. Walton's application to restart the project. Here we are today.

That's not a bad boy who wants to take over the world.

Dr. Walton argued this in his heart, but did not dare to say it out loud.

What I also dare not say out loud is the deep intersection between Pascal and the child, as well as the past disputes between Pascal and him.

"He... I didn't tell him this, but he seemed to have found it somewhere," the young man said, trying to clarify the relationship. "He wanted to apply to see some of the operational details and related conclusion reports of the original expansion of the nervous system. Especially the part about misplaced and missing sensory information..."

Because of the irreversibility of this expansion operation, experimental reports in this area are in the confidentiality stage with limited access. Even if Albert is the leader of one project team, he does not have the authority to view it across another project team.

And as the young man in front of me, he is not qualified to view or even share this data. His suspicion has indeed been cleared.

Theoretically, the only people who have the right to access these reports are Dr. Walton and the people he has personally authorized. But in reality, he is the only one.

Dr. Walton waved his hand, and the young man strode away with relief and went straight to the lounge, intending to enjoy a nap where he could forget everything.

Standing there, Dr. Walton's lowered eyes were uncertain. He turned around again and walked straight to his office. His pace was not that of an elderly person.

His office is very ordinary, the style of a rigorous scholar, but with an inexplicable hint of cyberpunk craziness.

This madness comes from the transparent container that occupies half of the wall, and the bubbling pink liquid in the container.

Suspended in the liquid is a gray-white brain tissue. The milky white translucent meninges tremble in the liquid with the circulation of oxygen like breathing, and seem to be constantly sucking nutrients in the liquid.

From the real-time monitoring screen under the container, we can see that this is a brain that is still alive in a biological sense, and weak but tough biological currents are still running in those nerve cells.

Dr. Walton stood in front of the container and stared for a long time, but his eyes seemed to have no focus. His hand gently and nervously touched the cold outer wall of the container and murmured:

"Kid, after playing for so long, it's time for you to go home."

......

The meeting between Qi Youfeng and Lord Stein was a feast for both host and guest. The two expanded their knowledge and established a deep friendship while eating, drinking and enjoying themselves.

Qi Youfeng enthusiastically introduced the infrastructure construction projects of various cultivation sects on the other side of the snow mountain that were in full swing, and proudly evaluated the strength and heritage of these cultivation sects in detail.

Appreciating the uncertain expression of the city lord, Qi Youfeng imagined an aborted development plan and couldn't help but sigh at the wonder of this world.

When those cultivation sects chose to settle in the snow-capped mountains to avoid secular disputes, did they ever think that they would also become the first line of defense against foreigners?

Maybe...there really is?

In line with the spirit of unity inherited from Chinese culture, Qi Youfeng sighed secretly.

When the city lord reluctantly and skeptically accepted that the other side of the snow-capped mountains was not an unclaimed land that could be plundered, he was worthy of being a generous lord of the city. He still made an oriental friend, Qi Youfeng, and hoped that he would become a friend in the future. If you can help me more, you can also promote the hospitality of the dwarves and invite more Eastern friends to come here as guests.

Qi Youfeng neglected to forget the fact that he was an abandoned disciple of the Mohist family, and he wholeheartedly agreed to the city lord's "joke" that he expected him to serve as a bridge for cooperation, and he also called him brother with enthusiasm.

Nian Nian, who was hiding in his cloak, curled his lips, feeling annoyed by the smell and atmosphere in the room. He wanted to jump off the tower and end it all.

Qi Youfeng also estimated Nian Nian's patience, and soon expressed his intention to say goodbye, leading Nian Nian back to the ground.

Walking out of the elevator with them was a friend of the city lord, who was specially called by him to help Qi Youfeng solve the resettlement problem every year.

This also made Nian Nian even more depressed. He could only continue to pretend to be a taciturn NPC, stand there and let him judge him, and resist the urge to beat this person to death.

"Let me take a look," the dwarf tried to stand on tiptoes and looked at Nian Nian's face. "What's going on with this mask? Is it disfigured?"

"No, I'm just afraid of attracting too much attention along the way." Qi Youfeng said with a smile, his tone was very gentle.

"Well, that's good. I can also be regarded as your guide. I will accompany you around the dwarf territory, and finally send you to the City of Usher. I just want to go there to do some business."

This guide is called Tristan, an ordinary dwarf knight who claims to be a senior trader, but according to his own business scope, he is just a middleman who buys and resells.

The human race's raw materials are bought at low prices, and the finished products of dwarf craftsmen are sold at high prices. The main stage of this business is the unconcerned commercial hub of Usher.

"Aren't the dwarves rich in mineral resources? Wouldn't it be troublesome to sell them like this?" Qi Youfeng asked knowingly.

"Haha, that's where the fun is, there's no trouble." Tristan generously avoided the crux of the problem.

"This is interesting. I also know many players who like to do business." Qi Youfeng nodded understandingly.

"That's just right. If you have a chance, why don't you introduce us to each other." Tristan was very interested in this kind of like-minded person.

"They are all in the Feathers Forest and may not leave in a short time. If there is a chance, I will let you get to know each other." Qi Youfeng responded.

"Jesus Forest..." Envy and jealousy flashed in Tristan's eyes, "You have to remind them to bring more good things out. After all, this is the chance to pick up money."

"Thanks for the reminder." Qi Youfeng smiled.

"Then shall we leave Stein directly, or stay here for a few more days?" Tristan asked dutifully.

"Are there any good sightseeing places around here?"

Qi Youfeng pretended to be curious and looked around, looking for the Duke.

Tristan probably didn't know that there were actually three people in their group, and he had no intention of confessing this before Lieer showed up.

"There is a hot spring nearby. If you are interested, you can check it out."

Tristan looked at Nian Nian wrapped in a cloak with confusion.

Nian Nian rolled her eyes from an angle that he couldn't see, and didn't bother to remind him that NPCs also have a sense of shame. No, they are more moral than some players.

At the very least, NPCs would not waste food by eating and vomiting, and they would not actively send women to places like the City of Usher for "relocation."

"Are your dwarfs running out of resources?"

Qi Youfeng pointed out the inside story straightforwardly, twisting Tristan's wanton smirk into an embarrassing muscle twitch.

"No, how is such a ridiculous thing possible?" Tristan cleared his throat and suggested, "Why don't you go and rest first, and we can set off early tomorrow morning?"

"So the city lord is planning to expand eastward because he is interested in the vast land and abundant resources in the east? Perhaps, this is actually the intention of the entire dwarf race?"

Qi Youfeng continued without blinking.

"so--"

Another voice came from behind the three people, plain and awe-inspiring:

"So the dwarves have come up with the idea of ​​the City of Usher, and while they are secretly plotting the wealth and path of the City of Usher, they are actively trying to please the one who owns the City of Usher, me?"