Chapter 7: The Price of Dark Blade

The hiding place is an abandoned apartment, the walls are peeling like bones gnawed by time, the window frames are crooked, and the mist seeps in from the gaps, like ghost fingers wandering in the air. Niu Aihua sat in front of a shabby table, the desktop was covered with dust and scratches. She opened the USB drive left by Arnold and plugged it into the tablet. The latest report of "Distillation of Dreams" popped up on the screen. The blue light reflected on her tired face, illuminating the anger and sadness in her eyes. She clicked on the recording, and Arnold's voice was hoarse and heavy, like a whisper from the depths of the grave: "This is the current parasol, don't let them destroy more people."

Technological achievements

The documents show that the "Distillation of Dreams" technology has become Niu Si's trump card, and the results are as dazzling as a string of bloody medals. The new cancer drug "Lucid-9" has been launched, with a cure rate of up to 90%. The core ingredient comes from neuropeptides extracted from dreams, a rare substance that can only be synthesized in deep sleep; room-temperature superconductors have made breakthroughs, and the energy revolution has started. The algorithm relies on dream data optimization, which has solved decades of physics problems; self-healing materials are used in aviation, with doubled strength and can automatically repair in extreme environments. All of them are miracles bred by the "inspiration" of volunteers' brains. The report lists detailed data: new drugs have saved millions of patients, superconductors save hundreds of billions of global energy costs each year, and self-healing materials have reduced the aviation accident rate by 30%.

However, these achievements do not come from the dreams of ordinary people. The document reveals that only the dreams of a specific group of people can produce high-quality data-scientists, doctors, mathematicians, chemists and other highly educated groups. Their brains will still process complex problems in sleep, generate unique associations and creativity, like a machine that never stops. For example, a physicist derived a new crystal structure in his dream and solved the key formula of room-temperature superconductivity; an oncologist constructed a neuropeptide molecular model during the rapid eye movement period, which was accurate to the atomic level and directly contributed to the development of "Lucid-9". There was also an aerospace engineer who designed a self-repairing alloy in his dream, but forgot who he was when he woke up.

Niu Aihua stared at the screen, and every achievement in the file was like a knife stabbing into her heart. She whispered: "Garbage? You exchanged it for human lives." Her voice was low and angry, and her brother's face appeared in her mind. He was a neuroscientist and the first volunteer in Area C. She whispered: "They used our brains for their glory."

The video of Niu Si's speech at the Global Technology Summit was attached to the end of the report. He stood on the stage, the light reflected on his cold face, and sneered: "I am a legend, but the price is just some garbage data. The future of mankind needs sacrifice, and I gave you the future." His voice was low and arrogant, and his eyes burned with paranoid flames, like a self-proclaimed god.

The cost of humanity

The survivors' testimonies are shocking, like pages of blood-stained diaries. A volunteer named Lisa wrote: "I sleep 14 hours a day, and when I wake up, I feel like I have lost my soul. My dreams are full of red umbrellas, like bloody shadows pressing on me. When I wake up, I can't remember who I am, and I even forgot my daughter's name." Her handwriting trembles, as if she is crying. Another person described: "My friend was in Area C. He went crazy after seven days, banging his head against the wall, shouting "Give me back my dream", bleeding all over the floor, like a hollowed-out shell." His handwriting was crooked, as if twisted by fear. Statistics at the end of the report: The brains of the deceased were "drained", neurons were exhausted, memories and emotions were turned into data, and the bodies were burned to ashes and discarded like garbage. The statistics are cold: the total number of volunteers in Area C was 127, 99 died, and the mental disorder rate of survivors was 87%.

Niu Aihua turned to her brother's record, and the words on the screen pierced her eyes like nails: "C-01, the first volunteer, irreversible brain damage, incineration after death." She clenched her fists, her nails pinched into her palms and blood oozed out, her eyes were red, and she growled: "You ruined my whole family." Her voice trembled, and her brother's last appearance before his disappearance emerged in her mind: he sat on the sofa in the apartment, the red dots on his wrists were as bright as blood, and whispered: "Aihua, don't worry about me, they are more terrible than you think." She didn't take it seriously at the time, but now, that sentence is like a knife cutting her heart. She whispered: "Brother, I didn't listen to you, now I can only avenge you."

She took a deep breath, the air was mixed with mold and blood, and whispered: "Niu Si, you took their dreams in exchange for your legend, I will make you have no place to stand."

1. See you in the dark night

The night in Brooklyn is like ink, like black paint splashed on the street, the fog is as thick as cotton wool, swallowing up all the light. Niu Aihua stood in front of the window of an abandoned apartment. The window frame was crooked and the glass was full of cracks. The TV news was still rolling, and the voice was harsh and urgent: "The illegal experiment of the sun umbrella company was exposed, and the world was in an uproar. The families of the victims demanded severe punishment!" She clenched the USB drive, her nails dug into her palms, and the corners of her mouth slightly raised. She whispered: "Niu Ke, your good days are over."

A note was suddenly stuffed under the door, like a ghost in the middle of the night. She picked it up and saw the familiar crooked handwriting piercing her eyes like a needle: "I'm at the end of the alley, the situation has changed." It was Arnold. She frowned, grabbed the electric baton and pushed the door downstairs. The boots stepped on the stairs and made a dull sound, as if knocking on her own destiny. In the alley, the fog was filled, like the coldness of the Hudson River condensed. Arnold leaned against the wall, took off his mask, his face was more haggard than last time, his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had endured countless sleepless nights, and there was a bitter smile on the corner of his mouth.

He whispered, "They didn't stop." His voice was hoarse, like a warning squeezed out from the depths of his throat, and his fingers trembled unconsciously, as if he was suppressing some kind of fear.

"What do you mean?" Niu Aihua looked at him coldly, her hand on the electric baton at her waist, her eyes sharp as a knife, and whispered, "Speak clearly."

Arnold panted, took out a stack of documents from his worn-out coat, and handed it to her. The edges of the paper were yellowed, as if soaked with sweat. He whispered, "Area C is still in operation and the location has been moved. They know you are not dead, so they are anxious." He paused, his voice trembling, his eyes red, "My sister's body was dug out and burned, not even the ashes were left. They said that the family members of the defectors are not worthy of leaving any traces."

Niu Aihua took the document, the cover of which was written "Distillation Plan V2.0", with sloppy handwriting, like a hastily written death notice. She flipped it open and her pupils shrank: "New test site?" Her voice was low and angry. The cabin on the seventh floor appeared in her mind. She whispered: "They still don't give up."

"Yes." Arnold nodded and panted: "Niuske personally ordered that if the seventh floor cannot be destroyed, they will move to another place. They captured more people and even the survivors. He said that with the technology in hand, exposure is just a small matter." His voice trembled, and his fingers clenched his trouser legs, as if he was suppressing pain.

She clenched the document, her nails digging into the paper, and whispered, "How do you know?"

"I stole their communication key." Arnold took out a microchip, the surface was severely worn, as if it had been held in his hand countless times. "I sneaked back last night and almost didn't come out. They found out that I ran away, and now they are chasing me." He smiled bitterly and whispered, "My sister is gone, I live to destroy them."

Niu Aihua stared at him and whispered, "Okay." She turned and went back to the building, her steps were heavy, and Arnold's voice chased after her: "Be careful, they are more cruel than you think."

2. The pursuit started again

Before she finished speaking, the roar of the engine came from the end of the alley, like the roar of a beast tearing through the night, three black trucks rushed into the fog, and the fluorescent words "S.U.C Logistics" on the rear of the truck were dazzling, like the eyes of a ghost. She roared, "Run!" She pulled Arnold and rushed into the depths of the alley, her boots stepped on the wet and cold ground, splashing water, the door of the truck behind her opened, and five masked men jumped down, holding stun guns and daggers, like a group of bloodthirsty hounds.

"They brought a tracker!" Arnold panted, pointing at his wrist. A small bulge appeared under his skin, like a tumor buried in the flesh. "It's implanted, and it can't escape." His voice trembled, and his eyes were full of despair.

Niu Aihua gritted his teeth, took out the lock-breaker, and growled: "Stop!" She held his wrist, and the tip of the knife cut the skin, and blood gushed out, warm and sticky, dripping on the ground like a string of silent tears. She clipped out the chip, and the small piece of metal flashed with cold light. She threw it into the trash can next to her and growled: "Run now!" Her voice was angry and hurried. Jeffers' face flashed in her mind, and she whispered: "No more deaths."

The two rushed into a narrow alley, and the sparks of the electric shock gun behind them rubbed against the wall and burst into sparks, like fireworks in the night sky. A masked man rushed over and stabbed Niu Aihua's back with a dagger, and the blade drew a cold light in the dark. She dodged sideways and hit him on the side of the neck with a stun gun. With a flash of lightning, the man twitched and fell to the ground, with white foam pouring out of his mouth. Arnold staggered and followed, panting: "They have a new weapon, neurotoxin, it's over if you get it." His voice was weak, like a candle in the wind.

The alley was blocked, and three drones fell from the sky, locking their red lights on them like bloodthirsty eyes. She glanced at the fire escape next to her, which was rusty and looked like an escape route to the unknown, and shouted: "Climb!" She pushed Arnold ahead and she followed behind. A masked man swung a stick and hit her. She ducked and rolled away. The stick broke a section of the ladder, and the sound of metal collision was harsh. She grabbed the broken iron and hit the other person's knee, roaring: "Get out of here!"

3. The death of the inner ghost

The ladder led to the roof. When Niu Aihua climbed up, Arnold was already leaning against the water tower, panting like a bellows, his face was as pale as paper, and sweat mixed with blood flowed down. He whispered, "I can't run anymore. You have to listen to me." His voice was weak, as if he was speaking with his last strength.

"Hurry up!" She looked back. The drone was approaching, the red light was flashing, and the footsteps of the masked man came from the fog, like a pack of wolves approaching their prey.

Arnold panted and spoke quickly: "Area C was transferred to the freighter "Noah" outside the New York Harbor. They captured fifty new volunteers, including my sister's colleagues. Niuske said that exposure is a small matter. As long as he has the technology, he is still a god." He paused and growled: "Also, their new drugs and superconducting materials are all obtained by distilling dreams!" His voice was angry and trembling, and his fingers were clenched, as if he was suppressing endless pain.

Niu Aihua clenched her fists and whispered, "What's the price?"

"Dead people." Arnold smiled bitterly, his mouth corners slightly raised, with a hint of despair, "There are hundreds of people like my sister who have died. Their brains have been drained and they don't even have any memories left." He took a breath and continued, "Do you know? They specifically pick on highly educated people, doctors, scientists, mathematicians... The dreams of those people are the real gold mines. Ordinary people's dreams are just fragments, but these people are different. When they sleep, their brains are still solving problems, deriving formulas, and designing molecular structures. Just like my sister, she is a chemist, and she simulated the reaction path of new materials in her dreams, but what was the result? She was drained and didn't even have her name left in the end."

As soon as he finished speaking, a dart shot out from the fog and hit Arnold's chest. The feathers trembled, like the mark of the god of death. He groaned and fell to the ground, with blood foam gushing from the corners of his mouth, like red tears. Niu Aihua rushed over and shouted, "Hold on!" She pressed his wound, blood gushed out from her fingers, warm and sticky, but he grabbed her hand and whispered, "Destroy the Noah... Don't let my sister die in vain..." His voice was weak, his eyes rolled back, his head tilted, and he died.

The drone swooped down, the red light approached, like a bloodthirsty eye. Niu Aihua gritted her teeth, grabbed the documents and chips, and rushed to the edge of the roof. The wound on her leg hurt like a tear. She glanced at the gas tank next to the water tower, took out a lighter to light her coat, threw it at the tank, and roared, "Explode it!" She jumped down, the flames of the explosion soared into the sky, the heat wave hit her face, the drone was overturned by the air wave, and the curses of the masked man were drowned in the roar, like a group of wild dogs that were scattered.

She landed on the garbage dump, her shoulder was in great pain, her leg was bleeding, the garbage bag broke, and the dirt splashed on her face. She got up, panting, and whispered, "Arnold, I owe you a life." Her voice was low and trembling, and Arnold's eyes appeared in her mind, and she whispered, "Your sister will not die in vain."

V. Lonely Flame

In the early morning, the fog dissipated, and the gray outline of the Brooklyn sky was revealed, like a torn veil. Niu Aihua stood on the corner of the street, staring at the direction of New York Harbor. The wind blew her short hair, mixed with the smell of blood and sweat. The red lights of the Sun Umbrella Building were dim, like a behemoth with its head cut off. The news was still rolling: "Niuske denied the accusation, saying that the experiment was legal, and the victims' families protested more." She sneered, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, clenched the chip, and whispered: "Legal? I'll leave you no place to stand."

The phone vibrated. It was a text message from Jeffers. The handwriting was short but powerful: "I'm discharged from the hospital. Go to work." She replied: "Noah, see me." Her finger stayed on the screen for a moment, and whispered: "You have to live and stay with me."

At the end of the alley, three trucks drove by, and the fluorescent words "S.U.C Logistics" on the rear of the truck were dazzling, like the eyes of a ghost peeking in the fog. She looked down at Arnold's file, stroked the cover with her fingertips, and whispered: "Your sister will not die in vain." She turned and walked into the fog, her steps as firm as a knife, like a wounded beast, ready for the last fight. She whispered: "Niuske, your doomsday is coming."