When Herta returned to the main control console, her entire aura had changed.
The irritation and low pressure stemming from the bottleneck period were swept away, replaced by a near-manic fervor, as if she had found the ultimate answer to the universe.
In her purple pupils, data streams surged at an unprecedented speed, as if billions of stars were being born and dying within them.
“Glowing little pig…
collision…
becomes a golden big pig…” She muttered to herself, her fingertips turning into blurs on the light screen.
The old algorithmic framework, which Ruan Mei had ridiculed as “simple numerical stacking,” was mercilessly deleted in its entirety.
On the blank editing area, a brand-new logical chain poured out as if divinely inspired.
[Target emotion analysis: excitement 95%, desire to create 100%, cognitive subversive ecstasy 80%.] The system’s voice rang in Lilith’s mind, [Host, you’ve really done it this time.
You seem to have…
hit her G-spot—I mean, her inspiration point.] ‘Shut up!
I’m sleeping!’ Inside Herta’s private lounge, Lilith forced herself to maintain steady breathing, but her perked-up little ears betrayed her nervousness.
She could faintly hear the sounds of Herta frantically tapping on the light screen from the main control room outside; the sound was filled with delight.
Herta no longer tried to build a rigorous, linear superposition model based on A + B = C.
She introduced a brand-new underlying concept— “curio annihilation and creation.” When certain specific “curios,” or those “glowing little pigs,” met in the Simulated Universe, they no longer simply provided their respective numerical bonuses.
They would “collide,” “annihilate,” and sacrifice themselves to “create” a brand-new “super curio”—that “glittering golden pig”—whose effects were completely unpredictable but whose strength absolutely far exceeded the sum of their parts!
This approach completely departed from traditional programming logic; it was more like simulating a kind of chaos, a miracle, a law from the moment of the Big Bang.
This is what the “Simulated Universe” should look like!
An hour later, the first version of the test algorithm was built.
Herta launched the simulation without hesitation.
On the light screen, light points representing “curios” wandered in the virtual universe.
The moment two light points set with the “collision” entry made contact—”Pop!” There was no violent explosion; the two light points vanished instantly, replaced by a brand-new icon radiating brilliant golden light that was born in their place.
Herta immediately called up the attributes of this “golden pig.” [curio · Event Horizon] (Pseudo): When the player possesses more than three blessings from different Paths, all blessing effects are increased by 200%.
Herta’s breathing stalled for a moment.
Not 20%, but 200%!
This was no longer simple numerical inflation; this was a qualitative change!
It was a crushing victory at the level of rules!
She immediately adjusted the parameters to let three other different “little pigs” collide.
[curio · Doctor’s Robe] (Pseudo): Every time the player possesses a “curio,” damage dealt increases by 50%.
Ecstasy!
Unparalleled ecstasy swept through Herta’s neural center.
She felt as if she were seeing a brand-new universe being born in her hands.
The research progress was no longer “advancing a thousand miles a day,” but jumping by light-years!
At this moment, the strength and playability of the Simulated Universe received an exponential boost!
She conducted experiment after experiment with almost greed, testing different combinations and different collisions, giving birth to all sorts of inconceivable yet incredibly powerful “super curios.” She even forgot about time, completely immersed in this feast of creation she was leading.
It wasn’t until she subconsciously tried to access some underlying data and found her permissions insufficient that she suddenly snapped back to reality.
She turned around, her gaze piercing through the walls of the Laboratory, accurately “looking” at the figure “sleeping” peacefully in the lounge.
At this moment, her perception of Lilith had undergone a cataclysmic change.
This was no longer just a “prophecy.” Predicting the invasion of the Antimatter Legion was merely predicting a macroscopic, predetermined “event.” But what had just happened was a “prophecy” of the end of science, a “prophecy” of the truth of the universe!
This little one was no “prophet”; she was a muse who could bring “inspiration” to her!
A “peer” who could resonate with her wisdom, or even surpass her!
Her value far exceeded the entire Herta Space Station, far exceeding all her research achievements to date!
Herta took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in her heart.
She walked to the main control console and, in front of all the core researchers attracted by this huge commotion, issued a series of instructions in an unprecedentedly solemn tone.
“Open the access rights to the Simulated Universe backend database to Ms.
Lilith up to S-level.” “List the authorship of all algorithms related to ‘curio creation’ as shared between myself and Ms.
Lilith.” The researchers were in an uproar.
S-level access was almost equivalent to Herta herself!
And shared authorship—this had never happened in Herta’s history!
Herta ignored their shock.
She walked to the door of the lounge, pushed it open, looked at the little one who was still “fast asleep,” and announced in a clear and solemn voice that everyone could hear: “From today on, Lilith is the ‘First Tester’ and ‘Muse of Inspiration’ for the Simulated Universe.” This title, like a thunderbolt, exploded in the minds of all the researchers.
This was no longer a guest, no longer a pet, not even a research subject.
This was a “partner.” The only existence acknowledged by Lady Herta who could stand side-by-side with her at the pinnacle of wisdom.
…
For three consecutive days, Herta remained in a state of extreme work-related excitement.
She dragged Lilith through countless tests.
Of course, the so-called tests consisted of Lilith “playing” in the Simulated Universe, while Herta recorded data on the side, constantly optimizing the “curio creation” algorithm based on the occasional, incoherent “sleep talk” that slipped out from Lilith.
When the final version of the algorithm was running stably, Herta finally broke free from that state of madness.
Continuous high-intensity work, even for a genius brain, felt like the limit of exhaustion.
This was the first time she had revealed such obvious fatigue in front of an “outsider.” She swayed slightly and walked back into the small private lounge.
Lilith was sitting cross-legged on that huge sofa, holding a thick book about stellar evolution she had dug up from somewhere, reading it.
The soft light spilled onto her silver hair, making her look like an exquisite, fragile doll.
Hearing footsteps, Lilith raised her head, her crimson eyes carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.
“Are you finished?” she asked, her tone as arrogant as ever.
Herta did not answer.
She just walked over with extreme naturalness and, before Lilith could react, performed an action that caused her brain to instantly crash.
Herta bent down, and then…
rested her head on Lilith’s lap, closing her eyes.
The soft hem of her skirt scattered across the sofa, and her gorgeous hair accessory, patterned with stars, gently brushed against Lilith’s lower abdomen.
That brain, hailed as the smartest in the universe, was now resting peacefully on her lap.