The corruption was not static. It was expanding.
Lin Tao dug through the nested share-out tables of the Archon Engine. Then, he discovered that the old family leases were not merely sitting dormant in memory. They were programmed with looping spreading loops. Hungry compounding algorithms designed to increase their spiritual intake with every passing century.
In software systems, Lin Tao analyzed, a cold sweat breaking out across his back despite the chilled cathedral air, a memory leak that grows linearly is dangerous. A memory leak that grows faster and faster is fatal. Within eighteen months, the total share-out demand will exceed one hundred percent of physical capacity.
When that happened, the land-wide running system would experience a total kernel panic.
The a deep hum refresh cycle would collapse. The earth-shaking plates—held in stable tension by magnetic repulsion fields—would slip their moorings, triggering size-nine earthquakes across seven provinces at the same time. The southern continent wouldn’t simply experience a famine. Its landmass would fracture, plunging millions of mortals into boiling magma trenches.
“This isn’t just theft,” Lin Tao said, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. “It’s a self-running suicide pact.”
Tie Shan looked up from the foot of the dais, his dark eyes sharp. “What did they do?”
