Chapter 104: The Shortcut of the Illusion System

PS: If you’re ruthless, I’ll add an extra chapter!

On the fourth floor of the Azure Base, a special manufacturing area, a pair of peculiar shoes was being crafted—shoes several times larger than normal.

A robot stepped forward and, like a human, slipped its feet into the shoes.

Once the shoes were on, a button was pressed on the robot’s hand, and the entire machine slowly began to float.

Boom!

Rising less than two meters, a sudden burst of electric sparks flashed from the shoes, and the robot plummeted to the ground, crashing heavily.

Zhu Lan watched the experiment silently.

“Boss, this is the seventeenth thousand four hundred sixty-ninth failure. Without enough manpower, I can’t figure this out alone. Unless we upgrade the computational program!” the Red Queen reported.

Zhu Lan shook his head. “Hurry and summon Kong Yan! Forget about enhancing your computational program for now; there’s no suitable replacement host for you. We’ll wait a while.”

The Red Queen said nothing and continued to direct the robot to carry on with the anti-gravity tests.

After several rounds of observation, Zhu Lan stopped watching. Such repeated trials could drag on indefinitely. So far, thirty-four robots had been scrapped and rebuilt.

They possessed crucial data on anti-gravity, but lacked some of the ordinary materials. Though finished anti-gravity products existed, many of the materials were impossible to manufacture. Reverse engineering was a daunting task.

Materials had always been a significant constraint on Azure Base’s development. Though fantasy technology seemed omnipotent, it could only manifest finished products. Films never disclosed the exact compositions of materials, as that would waste time and bore the audience. Instead, they simply hinted at some mysterious substance. It was that simple.

For Zhu Lan, however, the difficulty multiplied. He could manifest finished products but couldn’t reverse-engineer them.

It was like giving a piece of Ford’s specialized aircraft carrier steel to a great nation like China. Even if they tried to reverse-engineer such advanced steel, it would be far from simple. The process involved countless complexities. Possessing the finished product alone didn’t guarantee the ability to reproduce it.

Zhu Lan had advantages most countries lacked—namely, the two intelligent systems, the Red Queen and Kong Yan. With their assistance, his reverse engineering could be significantly accelerated. But it still wasn’t enough. By intelligence standards, the Red Queen wasn’t advanced. She was merely a biological assistant computer, not a dedicated research AI. Zhu Lan had once contemplated upgrading her with new programs and better chips to enhance her computational power and expand her capabilities. Unfortunately, those super-intelligent computers were beyond what Zhu Lan could achieve at present.

Descending to the third floor, Zhu Lan entered his experimental area.

He had long been attempting to manifest various objects, such as space warships.

The experimental space was as large as a basketball court. Even a massive ship weighing tens of thousands of tons could fit comfortably. The walls were movable, specially designed so that, if necessary, most of the third floor’s space could be freed up. At that point, even a 100,000-ton aircraft carrier could be placed inside.

“It actually succeeded?” Zhu Lan exclaimed in surprise as a huge vehicle appeared before him.

It was a car—a space rover, identical to the one the protagonist drove on Mars in the recently released film, *The Martian*.

When the film first premiered, Zhu Lan had tried to manifest it, but failed immediately, unsure why. At first, he thought the film’s world wasn’t fully consistent, being new and unestablished. But he soon realized *The Martian* lacked nothing—the world it portrayed was remarkably complete.

Yet, the reason for his earlier failures remained a mystery.

Zhu Lan had tried many newly released films, but most attempts failed. Only a handful of movies this year could be successfully manifested.

Among those successes, many had fully developed worlds, leading Zhu Lan to suspect a correlation. But some less complete films also yielded successful manifestations, puzzling him further.

Repeated trials left Zhu Lan baffled about the standards employed by the fantasy system.

Now, with the success of the Mars rover, Zhu Lan saw another possibility.

*The Martian* had only just been released; its box office soared. Perhaps this was the key.

“It’s time to begin!”

When Zhu Lan first obtained the fantasy system, he understood it targeted virtual worlds—films, TV dramas, animations, and even their contents.

He tried extensively, but only films, TV shows, and animations with vast, complete worlds and huge fan bases could sometimes be manifested—and even then, failure was frequent.

He still hadn’t uncovered the cause of these failures. Many TV dramas yielded no results, although Zhu Lan’s mental force could capture the intended objects. Yet some unseen force seemed to sever his mental connection abruptly—a mystery he couldn’t solve despite consulting many experts online.

Zhu Lan discovered that TV and anime objects could be manifested; the fantasy system’s activation truly captured them mentally.

The system operated through mental force as a medium. When Zhu Lan wished to manifest something, his mental force connected to the film’s world, scanning the object’s form, then the system manufactured it. This was the system’s modus operandi.

Previously, many scans succeeded, but the system stalled during manufacturing. Sometimes, the mental link was cut off entirely, leaving Zhu Lan perplexed.

But now, he had a better idea: create his own world.

Since only films could be captured, Zhu Lan could produce a movie, embedding the desired objects, then release it. After sufficient viewership generated enough virtual energy, this world would materialize. The film would thus become a targetable source for the fantasy system. Zhu Lan could design anything, film it, and, fueled by enough virtual energy, transform fantasy into reality.

Until now, Zhu Lan hadn’t pinpointed what made a film capturable by the fantasy system. Now he could confirm:

First, it must have a complete worldview.

Second, it must generate sufficient virtual energy.

This virtual energy, or willpower, sometimes called fantasy power by Zhu Lan, arises when enough people watch the film. Their collective willpower brings the world’s worldview into tangible existence, enabling the film to become a capturable target.

Zhu Lan once made a rough estimate: about a billion viewers was the threshold.

In the future, research on a technology might take three to five years, even decades. But Zhu Lan could simply create it, film it, and manifest it directly, reducing the timeframe to six months or a year at most.

His goal was the cosmos. To avoid unnecessary trouble, Zhu Lan could design first—if manufacturing proved impossible, he’d include the design in a film. Once the film gained capturable status, he could manifest it. With strong enough mental power, even an entire space fleet could be summoned.

Space-themed films were plentiful, but most settings dated back to the mid-20th century. Zhu Lan sought modern space vessels, especially battle ships, which were rare. Yet he could design and fabricate a fictional spacecraft for his film, eliminating the need for actual manufacturing.

Previously, Zhu Lan had been uncertain what form of film the fantasy system recognized. Now he was certain.

Thus, he could launch a film production plan, greatly aiding his cosmic ambitions.

With TV dramas and animations unavailable for manifestation, Zhu Lan could create everything he needed himself, saving time on manufacturing or research. Of course, he would not abandon manufacturing and research altogether; dual strategies were the surest path.

Though resolved, Zhu Lan did not act immediately. Filmmaking required extensive preparation.

Script selection, director choice, props—these were not matters to be hurried.

He set aside the idea for now, opened a nearby computer, and locked onto a TV drama’s world.

Unfortunately, his luck seemed spent. Neither TV dramas nor animations yielded success.

He tried over a dozen dramas of various genres—historical, war, action, romance—but couldn’t even manifest a simple blank sheet of paper.

He turned to animations, from high-tech mecha to simple romance, but still nothing.

“Still a bit better than before,” Zhu Lan said with a smile, watching a mecha anime play.

Though manifesting failed, he was not discouraged; instead, he felt encouraged.

Just now, he sensed his mental force had captured the intended object, even if the final result failed. This was a marked improvement.

He concluded the failures still stemmed from insufficient mental power.

This sensation was similar to his earlier attempts to manifest the Red Queen and the steel battle armor—only the anime manifestations were fuzzier.

But Zhu Lan was certain: his mental force lacked the strength to fully manifest them.

“I need to try harder!”

Understanding this, Zhu Lan ceased further attempts and left.

The room had long been cluttered—everything from blank sheets of paper to tanks filled one-fifth of the space.

As Zhu Lan departed, dozens of robots entered to clean up, moving useful items to the dissolution chamber to be recycled into materials for other devices, and discarding the useless as waste.

(To be continued.)