Chapter 339 — History Advances in Silence

"Very good," said the shadow above the platform with approval, the starlight on its surface seeming to surge. "What is the time-iteration level at present?"

"The 'thousand years' of Sandbox 166 took twenty-six days in the real world," replied a black-robed female bishop with a bow. "At present we have encountered a bottleneck in time iteration. Excessively high iteration levels consume enormous computational power, and the deeper we accelerate, the harder it becomes to guarantee the sandbox's stability. Earlier, Sandbox 132 successfully entered the highest iteration state, running through 378 years within a single day—but the information transmitted from within the sandbox was nothing but chaos and madness. All the test subjects, after disconnecting from the network, became nightmare spawn..."

"We need to strike a balance between the level of time iteration and stability," the shadow above the platform—the Pope of the Eversleepers—spoke calmly. "Do not be impatient. Before this world is devoured, humanity still has hope. Among our brethren there remain many talented people waiting to be discovered. We do not walk alone."

Talented people—the first that came to the minds of the bishops present was that member of the Long Dusk Sect at the "Nightmare Mentor" rank who had suddenly risen to prominence, displaying extraordinary gifts in the entirely new phenomenon of the mental network.

"The emergence of the mental network is greatly advancing our plans. Some who were once obscure may reveal their unique talents before this new thing," the Pope's wise voice echoed in the bishops' minds. "The concept of the database has proven to play an extraordinary role in managing the sandbox system, and according to my simulations, optimizing the network architecture will further raise the efficiency of the mental network. You must pay close attention to such talents—do not let them be buried and wasted."

The bishops rose as one and bowed respectfully. "Yes, Your Eminence. We obey your will."

...

In the snow-covered mountains of the Northern Ansu, the Grand Duchess of the North, Victoria Wilde, stood in a study hung with a vast map of the North, gazing quietly at the whole of the Ansu territory depicted upon it.

The windows of the study were tightly shut, and the howling northern wind and snow were barred outside—yet around this duchess, faint snowflakes still drifted into being from empty air now and then, as if she herself were the incarnation of winter.

At that moment the study door was pushed open, and the maid Maggie—black-haired, black-eyed, plain of feature—entered. In her hands she carried a wax-sealed tube stamped with the pale-gold emblem of the Moen royal house.

"Vicky, a secret letter from Saintfrost Perch."

The duchess turned and glanced at the black-haired woman, outwardly a maid but in truth a friend and advisor. "Is there a white ribbon or a gold one tied to the griffin's neck?"

"Gold."

"Then it seems this is the will of 'His Majesty the King.'" The duchess spoke indifferently. With a light wave of her hand, the wax-sealed tube opened of its own accord, and the secret letter within flew out and landed in her palm.

Victoria unfolded the secret letter and read every word on it with care, then allowed herself a faint smile.

"The magic transmission towers on the border between Ansu and Typhon have been restarted."

(Everyone, a quick word: in a couple of days I'm heading to Shenzhen for a science fiction convention, and I'll be away for quite a few days, so updates will be affected for a while... Still, I should be able to keep up the one update each morning.)