Chapter Seven: Radio Waves-I've Set Up the System(Mu Heng)

Fan Bei hurried back to Room 304 and pushed open the door to enter the living room.

In the silver-white living room, Dabai was facing the corner, carefully pawing at the newly acquired wooden dog sculpture, his mouth emitting low whimpers. Meanwhile, the iron ball lay beside him, utterly neglected.

This scene struck Fan Bei as odd. Previously, whenever he brought new toys for this creature, Dabai would tear into them with excitement, gnawing and licking until, within three days, the toys fell apart. The only exception had been the iron ball, which had survived unscathed. As for the wooden dog sculpture—a reward for a temporary task—Fan Bei had assumed it would meet the same fate, yet now it seemed it might endure far longer.

He observed for a moment, noticing nothing amiss, and soon turned his thoughts toward how to send Dabai out to fight monsters and collect treasures.

His previously drafted task chain included the mission “After Dabai’s initial strength improvement, eliminate the evil spirits.” Yet the “task guidance” was rigid, requiring completion of over a dozen rounds before triggering, and maintenance or modifications consumed his mental energy.

After pondering for a while, Fan Bei decided to wait. There was no need to rush. At this stage, his situation resembled planting a divine tree seedling—still rooting and sprouting. To expose it prematurely to storms would only ruin its promising future.

His current mental energy reserve stood at 851 points, with a daily net consumption of 100 minus 4.2, totaling 95.8—a little over eight days of endurance left.

It would be best to wait until Dabai made some progress. Still, watching Dabai, who had just been diligently training, now begin to play after his initial achievements, Fan Bei felt a surge of impatience, though he was powerless to change it.

If he pushed Dabai too hard, the creature threatened to abandon the system. Though giving up was unlikely, Dabai could become passive and slack off; bioelectric shocks weren’t a cure-all. If punishment exceeded a certain threshold, its effectiveness diminished drastically.

Patience—it was all he had.

Once he accumulated another 9,000 mental energy points, he swore to find an industrious, upbeat human host who worked eighteen hours a day. He would never again settle for a lazy dog who worked three hours and played two.

And when the “host-managed” manufacturing option became available in the future, he would impose a restriction requiring the host’s body to work tirelessly for twenty-four hours without rest…

But that was the future. For now, he could only endure.

He glanced up at the living room clock—it was already five in the afternoon. He still had to cook for this canine lord. The thought left him thoroughly disheartened.

Fan Bei entered the kitchen, mumbling to himself. The sound of chopping vegetables grew loud enough to startle Dabai, who twitched and then pretended not to notice.

By six o’clock, dinner was ready—rich and nutritious.

Driven by the task, Dabai obediently came to eat, never forgetting to wrap one dog leg around the wooden sculpture, as if cradling his own child…

After dinner, however, he still followed the task’s compulsion, heading out for a walk, exercises, and meditation.

———

The next day.

Fan Bei entered his study early, switched on the light, and reopened the radio to continue listening to the “fizzing” broadcast at scheduled intervals.

He turned the dial slowly, switching between channels, hoping to glean more information from the outside world.

Both for his personal life and the development of the book “Father of Systems,” he urgently needed external communication.

Dabai still needed a few days to grow strong enough to earn money. These days were precious—he had to plan ahead and find the next host for his system.

After listening for a while, Fan Bei was pleasantly surprised, though his feelings were mixed.

“Attention, all remaining survivor shelters!”

“We have established a fully enclosed copper fortress at latitude XX, longitude XX. If you wish to join this absolutely safe place, please use your shelter’s radio and call us on frequency XX.”

“Provide your shelter's exact location, and we will dispatch a rescue team. Join us, let’s fight the evil tide together and rebuild civilization.”

These announcements played on repeat, sometimes with poor signal, sometimes crystal clear.

Fan Bei’s mixed feelings stemmed from two crucial omissions: no mention of the shelter’s remaining supplies or the personal arrangements for survivors.

This was vital. Having operated a shelter independently for five years, Fan Bei understood intimately that even a fortress for a few hundred people would consume vast resources daily.

The authorities could not possibly ignore the supplies left in shelters, yet the message made no mention of them—an alarming sign.

He could easily imagine that if he revealed his shelter’s location, it would not bring a rescue team but a gang of bandits intent on stripping him bare.

The outside world seemed indeed to be improving, civilization rebuilding. Yet as circumstances improved, human nature might not.

He was far from naïve—a man whose combined lifetimes amounted to fifty years, though his body was young and his mindset followed suit.

Better to consider the worst-case scenario than the best; the former might cost him opportunities, but the latter could cost him his life.

After some thought, inspiration struck him. If he could receive their radio transmission, it meant a connection had been established, albeit passively.

But for the fictitious white book “Father of Systems,” their radio waves were a material medium for spreading the system!

If that failed, he could take a small risk and actively call them with his radio, sending out his own signal.

As long as he was careful and kept the contact brief, it would be hard for them to pinpoint his radio’s physical location—after all, this world lacked futuristic technology.

He had learned how to use the radio as soon as he entered the shelter; he even had an old radio set in his bedroom, though he’d never used it.

For safety’s sake, he preferred passive listening over actively calling out.

With this in mind, he picked up a black ballpoint pen and recorded the coordinates, radio channel, and call frequency in a blue-covered diary.

He then took the diary and stood before the silver-white wall, where a giant world map hung.

“Latitude XX, longitude XX—my shelter’s here at the green dot; the distance between us…” Fan Bei drew a line in the diary with his pen.

He returned to the desk, set down the diary and pen, found a ruler in the drawer, measured the length of the line, and compared it to the map’s scale. The straight-line distance between the two points was:

143 kilometers!

Neither far nor near. No wonder he could pick up their radio; while many shortwave stations could broadcast for thousands of kilometers, getting a clear signal was difficult.

With these tasks done, Fan Bei continued turning the radio dial, searching other bands.

For some reason, surprises kept coming—he discovered another new channel.

“Shelters willing to accept our rescue must hand over ninety percent of their remaining supplies for unified management. Individuals may keep a small amount of personal belongings and must sign a personal contract prohibiting actions harmful to our city.”

“Our location is latitude XX, longitude XX, call frequency XXX.”

Compared to the previous channel, this one was far more candid; but who could say whether it concealed ulterior motives?

Fan Bei found himself caught in a dilemma, then chuckled wryly.

Foolish—his inability to choose stemmed only from not being able to trust them.

Yet, what if their leader became the recipient of his system…

He smiled quietly to himself.