Chapter 15: The City of a Thousand Stars

A vast azure river stretched across the sky, scattering dazzling, magnificent light in all directions.

The layout of Starfall City centered around a towering, straight skyscraper, with other buildings radiating outward into the distance.

At the heart of this grand tower stood a brilliant beam of light piercing the sky. Upon reaching its apex, the beam transformed into a cascade of luminous rain, forming a hemispherical light shield that enveloped the entire city, isolating it from the Abyss.

This "hemispherical light shield" was essentially a highly advanced iterative firewall, designed to block memetic viruses and malicious programs, significantly mitigating the dangers posed by the Abyss.

On the city streets, Song Shi rose to steady his soul, which had just suffered a psychic shock from falling into the Abyss.

Because of the presence of psychic energy, the Abyss could not be regarded merely as a “net domain.”

It was also a “redundant psychic energy aggregate” formed by the accumulation of countless negative emotions day after day.

For one to delve into the Abyss, they had to confront not only the lingering technical hazards—memetic viruses, deranged artificial intelligences, malignant programs—but also the oppressive impact of the redundant psychic energy aggregate.

Both challenges were equally lethal.

The former was self-explanatory; the latter targeted the soul. Failure to endure it could lead to mental disorders in mild cases, dementia in severe ones—and in the gravest instances, the corruption of the redundant psychic energy could deform the physical body into a monstrous aberration.

For this reason, the Abyss beyond the net domain firewall was divided into regions based on “depth,” corresponding to the level of descent.

Generally, the greater the depth, the higher the danger—and with it, the greater the opportunity.

The most notable was technology: during the Seven Earth Wars, vast amounts of technical data sank into the Abyss. Ordinarily, after all these years, such materials should have become obsolete, but the existence of artificial intelligence changed everything.

Many of these AI, driven mad and hidden within the Abyss, were once research-oriented. Over the years, they continuously evolved, analyzing these technical archives. While much of their output was lackluster, there were always usable fragments.

Some even salvaged “black box” level technologies so advanced that even major corporations could not decipher their principles, only their effects.

In this era, technology equaled wealth, and technology equaled power.

Starfall City itself was situated within the Depth 1 region of the Abyss.

Beneath the endless glazed light lay a city that appeared haphazardly stacked like building blocks, with no planning and uneven elevations.

Song Shi looked out.

Unbound by physical laws, the architecture here was limited only by imagination—though to avoid wasting computational resources on trivialities, Starfall City imposed restrictions against excessive extravagance. Yet the surroundings remained a spectacle.

In the distance, brass steam airships hovered midair, their exhaust pipes continuously belching black smoke, sails billowing in the wind.

Drawing his gaze back, nearby, a craftsman’s workshop glowed with firelight amidst flowing lava. The constant hammering of a blacksmith seemed to echo within, yet a sign outside declared it to be merely a virtual bar.

On the other side of the workshop, a massive conveyor belt displayed not sushi but three-dimensional projections of various weapons, each with price tags.

Most prevalent, however, were the bustling pedestrians hurrying by.

In the state of “virtual reality,” information people received was transformed into near-realistic visuals for ease of comprehension, preventing their minds from being overwhelmed by raw network data.

Here, many faces appeared blurred.

This was the embodiment of the “anonymous service”—the lifeblood of Starfall City as a trading community. It automatically provided anonymity, including but not limited to IP addresses and personal identities.

Of course, individuals could choose to display their true visage or a fabricated face if they wished.

Next, Song Shi planned to find an informant and acquire some gear...

“Hey! My friend, interested in a chat?”

To Song Shi, Starfall City was already well-known territory. Just as he pondered his next move, a voice interrupted.

“Hey! Friend! Nobody else is around! I’m talking to you!”

A man wearing a brown felt hat suddenly appeared from nowhere. He patted his double-breasted jacket, gave a mock military salute, and then extended his right hand toward Song Shi.

He did not obscure his face, revealing a man in his early twenties, with brown eyes, a high nose bridge, sharp features, and a rounded face—a typical Nordic appearance.

Although the anonymous service concealed information and appearances and voices could be freely customized within the net domain, since both his voice and appearance were male, he could be regarded as such.

Song Shi looked at him but did not shake his hand.

Unfazed, the felt-hat man smiled and withdrew his hand.

“I say... friend, this is your first time here, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

Song Shi raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make that face.”

The man pointed upward. “By the way... you know where this place is, right?”

“Starfall City.”

“Oh, so you know.”

He sounded a bit disappointed but quickly added, “You know, Starfall City’s anonymity service isn’t foolproof. Sometimes, even trivial things can expose someone’s true identity.”

“I’ve seen many such cases—it’s really unfortunate,” he sighed deeply. “I mean, friend, you wouldn’t want others to know your real identity, would you?”

“Hm?”

Song Shi raised an eyebrow again. “You mean...?”

“Friend! My good friend! That’s exactly why I’m here!”

The man clapped his hands enthusiastically, beaming.

“The rules of Starfall City, how to avoid mistakes, the local situation—I can answer all your questions. For example, don’t you want to know how I figured out you were a newcomer?”

“Oh, so you’re a newbie instructor—”

Song Shi’s expression brightened with understanding. “Great! I need exactly that! What do you want? Money?”

“Oh, don’t be so formal—we don’t talk like that among friends. Four thousand credit points!”

The felt-hat man held up two fingers seriously. “But it’s not really ‘four thousand credit points.’ Friend, first let me teach you a rule.”

“Since you’re here in Starfall City, you should understand what this place is about. I can tell you clearly: most transactions here don’t use credit points directly.”

He flipped his wrist, producing a card resembling a credit card.

“Digital currency—is that familiar to you?”

Song Shi certainly knew what that was.

Digital currency was a virtual currency encrypted and created through decentralized blockchain data, employing cryptographic techniques to ensure security and immutability.

Simply put, it was a form of illicit currency.

Though essentially a string of encrypted data codes, it was widely accepted and often used for black-market trades, tax evasion, and risk avoidance.

“No worries if you don’t have any. This place has exchange centers that can convert credit points into digital currency. Trust me, I’ve used them many times—it’s very safe, with only a 5% fee,” the man said, his smile growing brighter.

“The exchange offers an ‘anonymous intermediary platform.’ Our credit points go into a black box, and both parties just reach in to take what they need. From start to finish, no one knows the other’s identity.”

“So, as long as I pay you four thousand credit points...” Song Shi nodded repeatedly, smiling.

“You can learn how to use a timer to confirm if someone’s a newcomer, and maybe you’ll even get a free timer program?”

“Exactly... uh?”

The man’s smile stiffened.

“No matter what sacred veneer you put on it, Starfall City is essentially a net domain. Technically, everyone here registers a ‘temporary pass.’ Starfall City handles this for us to facilitate net domain management. Most people don’t know this, nor do they need to.”

“But since it’s a registration, it requires time.”

“For first-time visitors, Starfall City conducts a series of complicated verifications and data uploads before issuing a temporary pass. Returning visitors skip these steps and register directly.”

“Of course, compared to Starfall City’s vast computing power, the time difference is negligible—about 0.15 seconds, which humans can hardly discern. But a meticulous timing program is different.”

“Also, to facilitate management, each Starfall City has only a few entry points.”

Song Shi tapped the ground. “You lurk near the entrance, use a timing program to record when each person’s ‘proxy program’ appears, then compare the results with average times. If the expected variance is too large, you can be sure they’re newcomers and try to make a quick profit.”

The proxy program was the virtual avatar people used online.

“After all, many people accidentally fall into Starfall City’s green user status by clicking strange things.”

Song Shi chuckled. “If they’ve heard of Starfall City before, that’s one thing. But if not, just revealing it’s located in the Abyss and giving them a scare, you can easily extort some money.”

“Heh, an anonymous community with almost no risk—truly a no-cost business.”

For many, the Abyss beyond the net domain firewall was known only through official notices and some forums filled with dubious rumors. Without exception, all mentioned it as an extremely dangerous place.

Hence, many regarded the Abyss as a terrifying realm that devoured recklessly. Those who suddenly found themselves trapped within would inevitably panic.

A little intimidation here and there could squeeze out some profit.

Of course, if unlucky enough to meet a stubborn or penny-pinching fool, that was just bad luck.

“Ah, so that’s how it is. Learned something new today,” the felt-hat man said, raising both hands in feigned realization.

“Hey! I just remembered I have something to do. Let’s catch up another day...”

“Eh, friends don’t say that.”

Song Shi was quick, grabbing the man who was about to slip away, his tone friendly.

“My friend—”

“Actually, I do want to ask you a few things about this place.”