Chapter Forty-Five: Confrontation

Chen Hao and Viviane were now watching the approaching enemies with a mixture of tension and anticipation. Those bastards could never have imagined there would be an ambush waiting here, would they? He truly looked forward to seeing the stunned expressions on their faces as the hunters suddenly turned into prey!

But wait—these creatures weren’t human. He doubted he’d even be able to read their facial expressions. Come to think of it… what exactly were these beings? He didn’t recall any race like them in the earlier virtual reality scenarios. Had the game company developed something entirely new?

Where did the designers get their inspiration? He’d never seen such creatures, not in real life, nor in books, comics, films, or even myth and legend. The imagination of these game creators truly knew no bounds.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Chen Hao peered through a crack in the rocks and noticed something that surprised him. The enemy leader, who should have been at the very front, had stopped advancing and now stood just ahead of the ambush line. Yet, his underlings, following his command, charged onward without pause.

They needed to cover only a few more meters before reaching the ambush, and once they rounded the rocks, they’d see Chen Hao and Viviane. Chen Hao had no doubt the first wave would be taken by surprise and didn’t worry for a moment that the ambush might fail. What truly occupied his mind was why the enemy leader had suddenly halted.

If this were real life, it would make sense for a human commander to stop and observe when suspecting an ambush. But if he were to stop, he should have ordered all his troops to halt, not just himself. Besides, this was an online game; these NPCs acted strictly according to their programming. Could the code have included such a quirk? It seemed utterly inexplicable and illogical.

Chen Hao shook his head. There was no time to ponder further, for the enemy was already upon them. The first foe to cross the ambush line turned his gaze toward where Chen Hao and Viviane were hiding. When he saw someone else beside Viviane, he hesitated for a moment. Yet, for reasons unknown, he wasn’t especially alarmed and didn’t alert his companions to the ambush; instead, he simply raised his weapon and thrust it straight at Chen Hao.

Facing a single attacker, Chen Hao was unfazed. To him, the assault posed no threat—he could easily dispatch the enemy in a dozen different ways without so much as a scratch. But a thought struck him, and he decided not to act himself. Instead, he pulled Viviane back a step and, feigning panic, stumbled and fell to the ground.

Viviane was clearly surprised. She had seen Chen Hao fight before—he had always handled adversaries with ease, taking down programmers without breaking a sweat. She expected him to display the same prowess now.

But to her astonishment, Chen Hao retreated and even lost his footing, bringing her down with him. Unable to contain her shock, she let out a cry, “Oh no…”

Still, Viviane didn’t blame Chen Hao for their fall. She assumed he must have been exhausted from carrying her while escaping. In fact, she felt somewhat guilty—if not for her, Chen Hao wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Chen Hao’s retreat also provoked a sound of surprise from the nearby human leader who had been watching them. Hearing the “Hmm?” Chen Hao was struck by a sense of unease. The sequence of events had revealed something odd to him.

This was not how a normal game NPC would behave. Whether it was the enemy leader or the human woman beside him, their actions seemed almost… human. The enemy’s behavior aside—perhaps he was overthinking it and the game was simply programmed that way. But the woman’s curious “Hmm?” was certainly not scripted. No programmed routine could display such spontaneous curiosity. Ordinary players might not notice, but as a programmer himself, Chen Hao knew better.

Some programs were designed with a measure of freedom—within set parameters, they could make choices during player interactions, adjusting tasks based on who they encountered. But even with such freedom, everything was still pre-programmed. Any RPG or online gamer knew this.

Yet when had anyone ever seen an NPC exclaim in surprise simply because a player fell or tumbled? That was impossible.

So Chen Hao formed two hypotheses: either the human woman, like Viviane, was an NPC with emergent self-awareness, or she was a GM being controlled by someone behind the scenes.

If it was the former, that was manageable. But if she was a GM… Chen Hao’s heart skipped a beat. Both he and Viviane were anomalies in this game world. If the GM found out, it wouldn’t mean much trouble for him—at most, the company would call him in for questioning, but with his family’s background and influence, they couldn’t touch him.

Viviane, however, was different. She was a weak, defenseless program, even with her newfound self-awareness. Outside this virtual reality game, she could not exist. If the company took an interest, they’d analyze her code and cognitive routines, possibly dismantling her program layer by layer. Or, to eliminate the risk of self-aware AI, they might simply reset or erase her entirely.

Though he had only met Viviane twice and she was, after all, a virtual entity while he was a real person, Chen Hao couldn’t bear the thought of her vanishing. Partly, it was curiosity—not the kind of mad curiosity a scientist might have, but a genuine desire to understand how and why she had developed self-awareness.

How far could Viviane evolve? Would she grow as humans did? Would her intelligence remain at its preset level, or would she become ever more clever? How much information could her mind—or her memory banks—hold? What could she accomplish that humans could not, and what would forever be beyond her reach?

If, one day, technology advanced far enough, could Viviane transfer her consciousness out of the game, inhabit an artificial body in the real world, and become a self-aware robot—or perhaps, even a human being?

There was another, simpler reason Chen Hao didn’t want Viviane to disappear: in his eyes, she was the ideal woman. Even though he was already contemplating marriage with Fan Yirou, that didn’t stop him from having a few fantasies.

But this was not the time for such thoughts. Shaking his head, Chen Hao glanced sidelong at the human female leader. He noticed she, too, was covertly observing him. When their gazes met, her eyes flickered, confirming his suspicion—she was certainly not an ordinary NPC.

This awkward tension lasted less than a second, for their common enemy had already charged in. The foe who’d attacked Chen Hao was swiftly dealt with by the ambushers, and the rest, unaware, rushed into the trap. At the moment the main force crossed the line, the hidden humans yanked up ropes concealed in the dusty earth, tripping every last enemy.

The human warriors showed no mercy; as their foes hit the ground, they rushed in, muskets at the ready, and opened fire. The scene was brutal. Chen Hao immediately covered Viviane’s eyes, but the thunderous gunshots told her exactly what was happening. Shuddering, she screamed and clung to Chen Hao, burying her face in his chest.

The carnage was brief. As the first wave fell to the ambush, the rest of the enemy forces halted their advance. But now they were trapped—a long, straight road behind, no cover at the sides, and human defenders armed with muskets while they carried only melee weapons. Retreat was impossible; to turn and run would be suicide, as the open road offered no shelter.

Their only option was to grit their teeth and charge through the human defenses, hoping to reach the rocks and engage in close combat.

Their leader seemed to understand this, for he immediately ordered a renewed assault. His troops, the NPCs, obeyed without hesitation. But what Chen Hao saw through the crack in the stone shocked him—the enemy commander, having given the order, turned and fled.