Chapter 794: Shadows of a Forgotten Era

Although it might sound a bit absurd, Lu Xin rarely interrupted matters beyond his expertise.

So he simply edged closer to Master Li and watched without protest.

Dr. Zhang and Dr. Wang eyed him warily, yet dared not stop his actions.

Through the screen on the controller in Master Li’s hand, Lu Xin saw that after the electronic flies entered the Research Institute, a series of distinct scenes were instantly drawn out.

It wasn’t that each electronic fly captured a single image; instead, countless electronic flies danced in the air, simultaneously illuminating one area and presenting a three-dimensional view from multiple angles.

It was akin to a reconnaissance version of 3D projection technology.

Lu Xin observed intently on the screen, as if he had stepped into the Research Institute himself.

He pictured himself slowly walking through that desolate, abandoned place, carefully surveying every detail.

It was clear that the Research Institute was vast and chaotic; the courtyard was overrun with weeds and thick layers of dead leaves, yet inside the main building, a gloomy atmosphere prevailed, with green hues subtly outlined on the display.

Lu Xin saw a series of tightly closed room doors flashing by on the screen.

The deeper the view went, the more disheveled piles of documents and rusty metal racks emerged.

Once inside the building, the electronic flies divided into three groups.

They entered from various directions, their soft blue glow illuminating the pitch-black Research Institute.

In other areas, they merely swept over briefly before converging on the West Wing of Area A mentioned by Dr. An.

They seemed to feature an intelligent obstacle-avoidance capability, maneuvering flexibly through the long-abandoned complex.

They infiltrated every crevice, quickly entering the dark building through doorways, windows, and other openings.

As they observed meticulously, they recorded every detail of the terrain, along with every image and bit of text they encountered.

The entire process was executed with incredible detail and precision.

Even a single sheet of paper drifting by on the floor was captured accurately, with its text rapidly restored.

An old, dusty sign for the Psychic Experimentation Detention Room hung on the wall, while iron chairs hooked up to cables were haphazardly piled along the corridor, accompanied by iron racks holding scalpels, leather gloves, and duckbill leather coats.

Even without witnessing the scene firsthand, one couldn’t help but feel a slight chill run down the spine.

Yet as Lu Xin watched the faint images gradually emerge on the display, a look of sudden confusion crossed his face.

For some reason, as he focused on the bizarre lines outlining the space,

he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Instinctively, he widened his eyes and scrutinized the various colored lines and the rapidly sweeping scenes, searching for more evidence—when, in the moment his breath caught, a sudden shock hit him.

“Wait a moment…”

He even forgot that he had no authority over Master Li, instinctively saying, “Let’s take another look at that sheet of paper.”

“Look at what?”

Master Li, clearly displeased, but upon seeing Lu Xin, quietly replied, “Alright.”

He tapped a few commands on the control panel, and the images swiftly rewound, halting on a piece of paper affixed to the wall.

When the image froze, they realized the paper wasn’t simply pasted—it was nailed to the wall.

Beside it, a bright red handprint stood out.

Although described as paper, it resembled an ID more closely, complete with a plastic film overlay.

Due to its age, the film had fogged over, making it difficult to decipher its content even up close.

But with a delicate operation, Master Li selected the paper, and data analysis quickly restored its contents.

As Lu Xin studied the page, an indescribable horror began to well up inside him.

The information was simple—it resembled a discarded ID found in the corridor:

HHIII013: Lu Tianming

Beneath the photograph was an image of a man with unruly, nest-like hair, wearing a white coat and displaying a lazy expression.

Judging by his appearance, it was unmistakably Lu Xin.

……

……

“Whoosh!”

In that instant, Lu Xin felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

It was that man again…

The one named Lu Tianming, encountered in the Qinggang investigation, had reappeared.

Could it be that he was part of the Research Institute?

A surge of excitement—and a hint of fear—washed over him as he quickly turned to Dr. An.

Earlier, Chen Jing had mentioned that she didn’t know this man, and Professor Bai had also been unaware, having studied at the Research Institute in the past.

Yet, the appearance of this ID here proved he was from the old Research Institute.

It wasn’t surprising Professor Bai didn’t recognize him, since he had trained and studied at the Central City Research Institute.

But Dr. An had mentioned that she had once been here—could it be that she remembered someone named Lu Tianming?

Turning around, she too looked on with a startled expression.

Clearly, she had seen the ID featuring a photo identical to Lu Xin’s, and was visibly taken aback.

Catching Lu Xin’s gaze, she immediately understood his question, taking a deep breath as her eyes flickered:

“I’ve never seen this person before…”

“……”

Furrowing his brow, Lu Xin was about to speak when Dr. An interjected, “But I have seen this ID before…”

“Only those involved in the Higher-Dimension Life Research Project wear such high-level IDs…”

“……”

“……”

“Higher-Dimension Life Research Project…”

The term left Lu Xin momentarily baffled.

After a brief pause, he looked steadily at Dr. An and said in a flat tone, “What is it?”

Dr. An stared deeply at him, seemingly lost in thought.

After a moment, she whispered, “The ‘HH’ on this ID represents Higher-Dimension—it’s shorthand for Higher-Dimension Life.”

“The numeral III following it indicates that it’s associated with the third phase of the project.”

“……”

Her gaze never left Lu Xin’s face as she continued slowly, each word measured: “What I know is that this project was once among the earliest topics at Red Moon Research Institute.”

“And as of now, it is exactly what the Old Director told me before he left.”

“Yet even his account didn’t come off as sharing concrete data—it was more like rambling about the Pre-Civilization Era: its significance to mankind, the order and culture of that time, the memories of a comfortable life, and even notions of destiny—all seemingly preordained and odd…”

“……”

As she spoke, she unconsciously furrowed her brow, as if lost in a haze of confusion.

After a pause, she resumed, “In short, he mentioned that during the Pre-Civilization Era, there was a meteoric leap in just two or three hundred years. Both artificial intelligence and genetic engineering achieved feats that were unimaginable by previous generations. It was an era that combined every achievement—a time beyond what anyone before or after could envision.”

“Just like…”

Abruptly, she paused and asked Lu Xin, “Can you imagine an era where everyone is well-fed and clothed, where joy is readily accessible to all, and where every person can at least appear dignified and fair?”

“This…”

Listening, Lu Xin suddenly felt overwhelmed by confusion.

Wasn’t this exactly the ideal life he had once dreamed of?

“Before the Red Moon Incident, it was precisely such an era.”

Dr. An murmured, “It was a life so beautiful, almost beyond imagination—a life that no one had ever truly envisioned.”

“But no one ever knew…”

She paused and whispered, “The people of that era lost their joy.”

“This…”

Lu Xin was visibly shocked, countless words on the tip of his tongue, and finally he simply blinked.

“Lost their joy? What does that mean?”

He couldn’t understand: “How could such a life be devoid of joy?”

“In that era, there was no hunger, no war, and no oppression—everyone was treated with respect.”

Dr. An sighed softly, “Even lifespans and longevity were almost wiped out thanks to breakthroughs in genetic engineering. In a sense, aside from dying of old age or sudden accidents, hardly anything could claim a life in that era. But it was also when more and more people began falling into emptiness and confusion.”

“At first, more people preferred solitude over socializing.”

“And later, that melancholic isolation gradually spread throughout society as more and more individuals fell into loneliness.”

“They could no longer feel true happiness; their faces would only muster a faint smile when greeting someone…”

“They spent most of their time alone at home, slumped on their sofas.”

“Every now and then, they’d suddenly toss aside their phones, step onto a balcony, and then quietly slump down…”

“……”

“It’s like…”

Lu Xin suddenly shuddered, almost on the verge of uttering the words ‘mental pollution.’

“At that time, the Red Moon Incident had not yet occurred.”

As if sensing what Lu Xin was about to say, Dr. An gently interrupted him, “But this widespread, collective sense of loss caught many people’s attention. Some analyzed it from a societal perspective; others tried to offer psychological solace, even urging a return to nature or stirring conflicts so that humanity could reclaim its intuition…”

“Yet amid all this, a few bizarre voices emerged.”

“For instance, some seemingly mad individuals believed this was merely the beginning of a cycle.”

“They thought that God had already been revived…”