Chapter Twenty-Eight: Golem No. 133

As the lines of code stopped scrolling, a figure took shape in the luminous screen—a goblin, with a head of fine, soft ashen-brown curls, sharp blue eyes, and a prominent hooked nose. His black combat suit was matched with a medieval aviator helmet, exuding a distinctly punk style.

A stream of strange syllables poured from the goblin’s mouth.

Sun Licheng stared blankly, bewildered by the figure who spoke incessantly on the screen. Inwardly, he wept, “Brother, please speak Chinese. I haven’t had much schooling.”

The goblin on the screen soon noticed Sun Licheng’s confusion. His voice abruptly shifted, evidently swapping to another language, but…

But Sun Licheng still understood nothing, remaining at a loss.

The goblin tried yet another language. As the number of attempted tongues grew, Sun Licheng’s spirits sank lower and lower, submerged in the self-doubt of illiteracy.

Suddenly, Sun Licheng received a flood of images; the goblin’s intent came through clearly.

“This feels familiar,” Sun Licheng mused, then slapped his thigh and exclaimed, “Isn’t this what it’s like after using Animal Friend?”

He was correct—the goblin was communicating using a method akin to Animal Friend. Though the information imparted this way was vague, Sun Licheng was elated; for the first time, he could communicate with an intelligent being from this world, even if it was just a machine or a projection.

According to the goblin’s introduction, he was a golem aboard this warship, known as Unit 133, responsible for monitoring the ship’s internal defense systems. Golems, as the goblins called them, were artificial intelligences created by embedding chips engraved with magic arrays into crystal spheres, then infusing them with energy. The goblins’ combat robots were referred to as battle puppets. This massive warship was a third-class combat carrier built by the Goblin Empire, completed in the goblin year 510. As for its name, Sun Licheng couldn’t remember anything with more than fifty syllables, whatever it might have been.

The golem recalled that its last battle was the final stand of the Goblin Empire’s air fleet. Nearly 180 warships, including this carrier, faced an army of flying magical beasts led by angels. The combat was brutal—after three days and nights of desperate struggle, this ship finally exhausted its supply of magic crystals, lost its shields, and was brought down.

“So these magic crystals are your power source?”

Sun Licheng took out a red magic crystal and asked Unit 133.

“Yes, the entire ship is powered by a massive magic crystal furnace. To ensure critical systems can keep running in emergencies, many areas have backup crystal ports. Even after the ship crashed, we continued to operate for a long time, but sadly, no goblin masters came to command us further.”

Unit 133 nodded in reply.

“Most likely, all the goblins aboard died in that last battle,” Sun Licheng thought, then pressed on, “So, this is the equipment control chamber—what could you control before? How many systems are still online now? And how long will the crystal I just inserted last?”

“This is the ship’s central equipment control chamber. Most internal defense systems are damaged. I can still control the remaining 28 battle puppets, but they all need new magic crystals to activate. The crystal you just installed should keep the control room operating for 300 hours. However, that crystal contains potent dark energy and will severely corrode the equipment—I recommend replacing it immediately.”

Unit 133 paused, collected information, then responded.

From 133’s explanation, Sun Licheng conjured an image in his mind: the goblin golems were, in essence, this world’s computers. The metal plates engraved with tiny magic arrays were like CPUs, the magic crystals functioned as power supplies, the summoned spirits served as the operating system, and the crystal sphere combined the roles of monitor, keyboard, and mouse. Such a massive airship, with so many systems and personnel, was all managed from the central control chamber, of which this room was just one node. These nodes communicated and exchanged data via special magic arrays.

“It’s just like a computer network on Earth. There might even be grid computing or cloud computing here. At the very least, these golems and battle puppets are artificial intelligences. A philosopher once said that beneath the surface, all civilizations are essentially alike. Now I see how true that is,” Sun Licheng sighed in awe.

At that moment, the blocked hatch shuddered violently. The monsters had returned, launching another assault on the control room.

“Unit 133, can you activate those battle puppets and wipe out the intruders?” Sun Licheng snapped back to the present and quickly inquired.

“Certainly. As long as you supply enough power to the battle puppets, they can fight. However, if you use these dark attribute crystals, their bodies will only last about five days before they lose mobility.”

Unit 133’s answer reassured Sun Licheng.

Under 133’s guidance, Sun Licheng dragged aside a toppled filing cabinet and found the slot for charging the battle puppets. He removed the depleted crystal, hesitated, then placed a twin-wolf magic crystal—the type he had the most of and in large size—into the slot. As for the issue of the puppets breaking down in a few days, he’d deal with that when the time came.

As the crystal became enveloped in light, the sound of metal doors grinding open echoed from outside the control room. The centipede monsters’ roars grew louder, followed by the tumult of battle—the fighting was fierce.

The battle puppets charged the monsters, and at last, calm was restored to the control room. Sun Licheng resumed his conversation with 133.

He was eager to learn the goblin language; to him, this place was a veritable treasure trove. In this world, his own magical power and talent were at the lowest level, but if he could acquire the Goblin Empire’s surviving technology and equipment, his bargaining power would be greatly enhanced. Animal Friend allowed for basic communication, but it was much too crude for his needs.

When Sun Licheng asked if he could be taught the language, Unit 133 was momentarily taken aback, then replied, “I am a control golem, not equipped for teaching functions. I’m sorry, I cannot assist you.”

This response didn’t surprise Sun Licheng; rather than being upset, he began to ponder. In his mind, he recalled the scenes of learning languages in his youth. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

He transmitted a mental image of a spaceship, and moments later, strange characters appeared on the screen, followed by Unit 133 pronouncing a few syllables.

This was Sun Licheng’s new approach: using picture-word association, prompting the golem to explain his mental images with goblin script.

It worked remarkably well, especially since goblin writing was essentially pictographic. Once he grasped the pattern, it was easy for someone raised with Chinese characters to comprehend.

After a while, Sun Licheng was astonished to discover that goblin script was not extensive—only about two thousand basic characters. Though they formed many words, the lexicon was far smaller than Chinese.

“Perhaps because the Goblin Empire rose so rapidly, with little historical depth, their vocabulary is limited. Thank goodness it isn’t an alphabetic script like English, or I’d never manage to learn it this way in a lifetime,” Sun Licheng thought, relieved, and plunged back into study.

…

“That’s it? I’ve finished?” Sun Licheng asked Unit 133 in goblin language. When the golem nodded, he was stunned.

He could scarcely believe his own superhuman learning ability. Even though the goblin language was far less complex than Chinese, its core knowledge and vocabulary still numbered in the tens of thousands. Yet, after some initial difficulties, Sun Licheng made rapid progress and soon could converse fluently with Unit 133.

He asked if all goblins were this clever, but the answer was negative.

“I never had such a gift for learning before—could this be the so-called crossing traveler’s starter bonus?” Sun Licheng scratched his head, muttering to himself in goblin, struggling to understand.

Suddenly, the screen flickered, and Unit 133 vanished. Before Sun Licheng could react, a dazzlingly handsome figure appeared on the screen, bathed in starlight.

This man was tall, with fine, soft golden hair draped over his shoulders, brows like sword strokes, piercing blue eyes, and a flawless, unsmiling face radiating aristocratic pride.

“Sun Licheng, I will answer your question. The reason you learn so quickly is that your body was crafted with divine power—utterly unique. Your brain, in particular, was specially reinforced; otherwise, it would have exploded the moment divinity was instilled.”

He spoke with his head held high, his face exuding an imperious arrogance.

“And you are?”

Seeing Sun Licheng’s puzzled face, the man shook his head, then bellowed in fury, “I am the god who created this body—the great Lord of the Stars! You lowly thief, return my body!”

“What? You’re that zombie?” Sun Licheng was flabbergasted. He could never have imagined that the noble, handsome man before him was the same zombie from the cave—the contrast was simply too great.