Chapter 239
Chapter 239
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 239
Chapter Title: 100. Evil Yaksha (1)
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Message from unicorn18: It'll take some time to review. Just sit tight. Launching a plane isn't easy work, you know.
Sending over the data didn't mean we were heading straight to Jeju Island.
I hadn't assumed we'd be going immediately either.
Of course, I hadn't handed over the entire disk.
Not that Unicorn had ever asked for it.
This disk was my lifeline.
Even if I had no idea what was on it.
Anyway, with Jeju's decision taking time, we had a chance to analyze the data left by the mysterious Chinese scientist.
It was Cheon Young-jae who'd demanded we interpret and examine it.
"We've got nothing better to do, so dig into this stuff. Aren't you curious why those bastards were so desperate for it?"
He had every right to say that.
After all, he'd thrown himself into the fray on a battlefield with slim odds, risking his life.
Since we weren't moving out right away, Ha Tae-hoon let Rebecca and her daughter stay in the cabin they'd built.
The fighting had died down for now, but the Chinese were fueled by grudges and sheer tenacity.
We couldn't slack on vigilance in case of any pursuit.
While Cheon Young-jae volunteered for watch duty, Ha Tae-hoon and I started poring over the thousands of files using translation software and online dictionaries.
"......"
To be honest, I had no clue what any of it said, and staring longer wouldn't help.
It was like handing a book to a caveman and telling him to figure it out.
Ha Tae-hoon wasn't much better off, but he knew more Chinese than me and had gone to a four-year university.
Having money meant even failures came with second chances.
It was a stark contrast to a dirt-poor Defender like me scraping by on day labor and odd jobs.
Anyway, after scanning several files, Ha Tae-hoon cautiously offered his hypothesis.
"This seems related to newborns and Awakeners."
"Newborns? Awakeners?"
I blinked in confusion.
Newborns and Awakeners.
I saw about as much connection between them as a fountain pen and a computer mouse.
When I clearly showed I wasn't following, Ha Tae-hoon scratched his head and elaborated.
"Well... how do I put this? The data shows a ton of kids with Awakener aptitude were born in China."
"That goes without saying. Probably dozens of times more than here. Sheer population aside, the erosion hit them way harder than Korea."
"Find anything yourself?"
"Just a bunch of headache-inducing DNA analyses and chromosome crap. No clue."
"Keep digging. If the Chinese were so obsessed with this, there must be a reason."
So we dove back in—or tried to—but I was still mindlessly scrolling through images of numbers, letters, and simplified Chinese characters, not even sure what I was analyzing.
"Hold up."
I called for a break first.
"Maybe we should ask the internet."
"The internet? You mean that satellite one? The Starlink network... made by Melon Mask, right?"
"Haven't heard that name in ages. Everyone just calls it Viva! Apocalypse! now."
"Oh. Same thing?"
"You know it?"
"I dabbled in Failnet for a bit."
The internet was full of idiots and attention whores, but a tiny fraction were actual sages.
Even our Korean board—minus lowlifes like Seonbi and Dongtanmom—was a gathering of white-collar guys with real education and status.
Consensus was only about thirty percent stuck around, but that still left room for experts.
And the English board had even more users and elites—might get better answers there.
So I uploaded an image of research data packed with equations and chemical formulas that was beyond deciphering.
After Melon Mask's survival went public, the upgraded translation feature showed why he dominated IT.
Even I was stunned by my own posts.
Combining big data, AI, and GPT like that—if rifts hadn't appeared, language barriers might've vanished within a decade.
Mentioning Chinese research drew some aggro—comments piled up.
No big upvotes or views, but at least some folks were trying to interpret it.
I considered posting to the Korean board too but held off.
No real need.
Honestly, who on there was smarter than me anymore?
From how things had gone, real scientists probably never existed there.
With crowd wisdom as backup insurance, Ha Tae-hoon and I kept grinding through the indecipherable text.
Around afternoon, the communicator buzzed.
"Car heading this way from afar."
Ha Tae-hoon and I jumped up, grabbing our guns in sync.
Cheon Young-jae's voice followed.
"Nah, no big deal. Just a passerby? Looks like a refugee."
We exchanged glances and chuckled.
We were on the same wavelength.
Worried about Chinese troops, sure—but mostly sick of this incomprehensible data.
We took a short break, then resumed.
Checked the English board again that afternoon.
Early morning US time, but in apocalypse times, day and night blurred.
Nights were riskier anyway.
If raiding a bunker, I'd pick night over day too.
New comments beyond the first batch.
"Huh."
I hadn't expected much.
But this sounded plausible.
Noted the username and skimmed other research files in a new tab.
Upload sequentially? Or the ones that seemed key?
One by one should be fine.
Of course, could be bullshit.
Internet experts spouting half-heard crap to fool people? Daily occurrence.
No rule saying Americans were immune.
Expert or not, I searched the user's posts like a true net denizen.
"......"
This guy's vibe was off.
But his environment looked rough too.
In a world where even scientists go mad to survive, venting crazy like this made sense.
Especially that gangsta beatbox.
Unwatchably horrific.
Still, don't let go of hope.
He could be a deranged genius scientist.
I was rummaging for the next upload when...
"Hey. This."
Ha Tae-hoon, who'd barely spoken beyond "let's eat," piped up.
"Find something?"
"Document log. All text."
"Oh. Nice?"
For illiterate grunts like us, sentences beat raw data any day.
"What’s it say?"
"Uh. One sec."
He leaned into the monitor, then grimaced and cursed.
"Fuck. This is bullshit."
"Why?"
"Written in Cantonese."
"Cantonese?"
"Hong Kong dialect. All colloquial, no formal script."
"Can't read it?"
"Nope. Vocabulary's totally different. Beyond me."
"Hang on."
I grabbed the file from him and uploaded it straight to Viva! Apocalypse!—as a secret post, of course.
My posts showed up like that online, but secret ones were invisible to others.
Added when Vivabot took over as admin.
Criticized as useless in a sea of exhibitionists flashing diaries, but you could invite registered friends.
No one to share with here, though.
I posted purely for the translation.
Viva! Apocalypse! supported tons of languages.
Even dead ones like Mayan now, so Cantonese from Hong Kong? No brainer.
Sure enough, it listed.
Requested Cantonese translation on the spot.
Spinning gear, then the text shifted to Korean.
"Whoa."
Ha Tae-hoon, watching, let out a gasp.
"This is like MamaGo on steroids. Way better features."
"Melon Mask made it."
"No kidding?"
"Fun fact: I've messaged him personally."
"For real?!"
I grinned and showed him our historic exchange.
"Whoa... Melon Mask. Dude really went to space. Thought it was a rumor."
Sipping coffee with a subtle smile.
Slurp—
Best decision joining Viva! Apocalypse!
One of my life's top choices.
While gold diggers like Ha Tae-hoon lived like cavemen in the dark, I enjoyed near pre-war culture and global networking.
Proud Vivarian, eyes on the translated text.
Slurp—
Ha Tae-hoon sipped coffee, reading along.
But this guy speed-read faster than me.
"Huh?!"
Before I finished the first line, he blurted in confusion.
"This..."
I caught up late.
"......"
Not research notes.
Not an evaluation or output.
What we saw was a message from a scientist known as "Wang Xibang."
Opening like Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, the anonymous scientist's document calmly laid out a truth we hadn't imagined—but vaguely sensed.