Chapter Twenty-Four: Nodes of Memory

"Commander, I have already relayed your orders, not only to the administrators of these Metaverse guilds but also to other influential figures in society. We will ensure their protection as well."

Before long, Zhao Hu returned once more.

After listening to his report, Ye Guangyu nodded slightly.

Zhao Hu hesitated, then continued, "I just tried to contact the president of Galaxy, Xia Xiyun. But it was Elder Xia who answered... After I explained the reason for my call, he refused in no uncertain terms and told us not to bother Xia Xiyun again."

He paused briefly, then added, "I also reached out to a few other guild presidents whose groups haven’t had trouble yet. Most of them are unwilling to help us recruit for the Space Corps."

The conference room fell silent.

Ye Guangyu remained calm.

"Go on."

Zhao Hu gathered his thoughts and continued, "There are mainly two reasons. First, in recent years, official pressure on Metaverse games has been intense. Mainstream media often criticizes Metaverse gamers, so they may harbor some resentment."

Ye Guangyu said nothing. He understood the deeper reasons quite well.

Was the government truly worried that young people would ruin themselves by playing too many games?

Of course not.

In reality, productivity was already so high that even if these people worked hard, they might not create much social value. Allowing them an outlet for their energy was actually beneficial for social stability.

But the problem was that Metaverse games were too realistic, and most were violent. Once these players grew accustomed to violence in the Metaverse, they often brought those habits back into the real world.

Society wasn't just composed of the ambitious and the apathetic—there were also the extremists. The Equality Sect was a prime example.

In recent years, more and more of the apathetic have been turning radical, largely because of the influence of Metaverse games.

That was why the authorities had no choice but to clamp down.

"Of course, resentment is only a secondary reason. The main reason is that they simply can't shoulder such a heavy responsibility."

Zhao Qiang looked helpless.

That was the crux of it.

Guild presidents were just leaders in a game. If they encouraged their players to enter the Virtual World, and those players died there, how could they face their families?

Such psychological pressure was not something the average person could bear.

"So, we’ll have to think of another way..." Ye Guangyu said softly.

Zhao Hu nodded slightly, then added, "By the way, Chen Nian seems to be awake. Do you still want to see him?"

Ye Guangyu waved his hand.

"Forget it. No need. I’ve read his file—he’s deeply attached to the Celestial Dome Guild, and many guild members call him ‘Big Brother.’

The other presidents have all refused. Someone who knows the dangers of the Virtual World firsthand, and who cares so much for his guild, would never agree.

Meeting adjourned. Carry out the other plans for now."

...

Meanwhile, in a lounge at Space Corps Base One.

Chen Nian lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling.

He’d slept for seven hours and was feeling much recovered.

Next, he needed to investigate the matter of his other self.

First, he planned to sort through all his memories, then confirm details with people from that time to see if there was anything wrong.

His earliest memories were of life at the orphanage.

He had grown up there from a young age.

In his recollection, the orphanage was a place full of warmth, especially the director, who had shown him great kindness.

He remembered clearly that the director often hosted live-stream sales to earn extra money for the orphanage.

Because of this, many merchants would send over samples.

The children at the orphanage naturally benefited from these samples.

So, when it came to food and drink, he’d never been at a disadvantage compared to other kids.

Later, after making a fortune in the Metaverse, he donated enough to completely renovate the orphanage. At the donation ceremony, the director had been moved to tears, saying Chen Nian had truly made something of himself...

"I should give the director a call," Chen Nian murmured. He reached for his phone.

He quickly noticed he had no signal.

After a moment’s thought, he realized why.

As a member of the advance team, he was privy to sensitive information—like the base’s coordinates—which still had to remain confidential.

So, blocking phone signals was perfectly reasonable.

But no matter what, he was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery of his other self today.

Without hesitation, he pressed a button by his bed.

Soon, a Space Corps soldier entered.

"Hello, is there anything you need? Just let me know."

"I’d like to make a phone call," Chen Nian said directly.

The soldier hesitated, then handed him a new phone.

"Please use this one."

"Thank you."

Chen Nian took the phone without inspecting it for any special features.

He wasn’t about to leak any secrets, so he had nothing to worry about.

He dialed the director’s number, and before long, the call was answered.

"Hello, who is this?"

The director’s voice sounded aged.

"Director, it’s me, Chen Nian," he replied.

There was a clear pause, then the director spoke anxiously, "Chen Nian! I heard you joined that advance team—everyone at the orphanage is talking about you. Are you alright?"

"Don’t worry, Director, I’m fine," Chen Nian replied warmly, smiling.

"Oh, you really have made us proud! Everyone says you’re a hero now! You’re one of ours, from this orphanage. I feel so honored!"

Hearing the director’s praise, Chen Nian fell silent for a moment, then got to the point.

"Director, I called not just to let you know I’m safe, but to ask you something."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Director, what kind of child was I? Did I ever act strangely?"

"Well... What makes you ask this all of a sudden? Let me think..."

The director seemed to be recalling the past. After a moment, he laughed, "If it were someone else, honestly, after all these years, my memory would be vague. But you left a deep impression. When you first came to the orphanage, you loved to read. You know, it was odd. You were only four or five, but you could read for ten hours a day—isn’t that crazy? How many words could you possibly have known at that age?"

Four or five?

That age struck Chen Nian like a bolt of lightning.

He had always thought he’d come to the orphanage as an infant.

But it turned out he’d arrived at four or five.

Strangest of all, he’d never noticed anything odd, nor had he ever tried to recall what happened before the age of five.

Clearly, the problem lay there.

"Studious. And after that?" Chen Nian pressed.

"Well, you wore yourself out and fell ill. The doctor said you couldn’t go on like that, so I found a psychologist to help you..."