I do not wish to explain my life to others.
Towering bookshelves stretch up into the clouds, row upon row, while compact archives with rotating handles and massive iron cabinets crisscross this seemingly endless space in an intricate grid.
Hello there, thanks for using Tabula Akasha. I'm Huaxu, and I'm here to help you get your mind data uploaded.
All my life, I've stumbled upon too many secrets that just can't be shared outside these walls, and I've seen countless versions of "history" come and go.
I've seen the lies in history, like when the Yazi purged all of Kowloong under the cloak of night.
I've quelled conflicts throughout history, driving out blood relatives who scheme to snatch my power.
I've laid the groundwork for historical progress, launching space fleets with Kowloong's backing.
When all of this is set aside, when "Qu"'s life story unfolds across the tapestry of history...
How will others pick apart my life?
Rows of bookshelves interlock and fold like mortise and tenon joints, fanning out into a boundless ocean that belongs to "Qu."
The library shifts like rippling shadows. From her moment in time, countless versions of Qu crisscross this sea of memory, weaving the life of Kowloong's ruler.
Every thread of her story is softly intertwined and faithfully recorded within Tabula Akasha.
How am I supposed to explain my life to anyone?
I must fight.
Inside Tabula Akasha or outside it—it makes no difference.
<phonetic=The Emperor>The usurper</phonetic> is vile, defiling my lands.
<phonetic=The Emperor>It</phonetic> broke into Tabula Akasha without permission, tampered with time, and twisted the meaning of "war."
<phonetic=The Emperor>It</phonetic> showed me endless visions of the past and future, trying to crush my will and steal my crown.
But I never gave in.
I must keep on fighting, because—
I am the only one who can serve as the "price" Kowloong must pay for its future.
"The final divergence point of the ideal confidence simulation... is your death."
"This unit cannot confirm the accuracy of this simulation, but it is the only approximate solution derived under the influence of uncontrollable variables."
<para\>Time slips by, <para\>dew turns to frost. I've lost count of how many cycles I've been through in Tabula Akasha. But—
Kowloong will not stop here.
I stand among the graves of countless blades and guns.
I will drive out the usurper and protect Kowloong and Tabula Akasha at all costs.
I will seize the threads of fate and hold fast to Kowloong's future.
I shall—
The mountains that shaped Kowloong. The sun that powers Tabula Akasha.
I won't explain my life to anyone—
Only time and Kowloong itself have the right to judge me.
33 minutes to reset Huaxu.
But once Huaxu is reset, it would expose all of Tabula Akasha's data to the Punishing Virus.
Even with Asimov, Villier, and Zavier rebuilding the code together, there's only a 50% chance of taking Huaxu back from Schulz.
Babylonia's Task Force has landed with the domain node—
Hey! Hey! Teddy! Stop them! Now!
If you can't stop them, at least block them outside for now—
The troops that arrived later, they are already setting up domain nodes!
Tell them to take those domain nodes and get out of this city.
A weary figure appears outside the tent, carrying someone on her back, with the equally wounded Pulao by her side.
I'll say it again, tell them to get out of this city.
If Babylonia decides to deploy the Longinus Arsenal against Kowloong, I will take down every single person in Babylonia.
Reset it.
I'll take responsibility.
The ruler of Kowloong returns to her throne.
