Nine-year-old Nangong Wentian crouched in the corner of the back kitchen, staring unblinkingly at the worn screen of the "Star Core."
Lines of characters flickered on the screen—a function he had spent three whole months to achieve: a network connection.
It sounded simple, but it was difficult to accomplish. The interface standards for the Orb Public Network were public, but access devices required authentication. He didn't have a legitimate access device, so he had to figure it out himself. First, he scavenged an old network card from the junkyard, removed its chip, and studied its communication protocol. Then, he used his own circuit board to simulate the network card's signals, gradually probing for access.
Failure. Failure. Failure.
On the seventy-third failure, he almost wanted to give up.
But on the seventy-fourth attempt, the long-awaited line of characters finally appeared on the screen:
CONNECTED TO OBNET
WELCOME TO ORB PUBLIC NETWORK
At that moment, he almost shouted out loud.
"Wentian?" Xiao Guang's voice came from the doorway. "What's wrong?"
Nangong Wentian took a deep breath, calming his emotions. "It's nothing. Come in and close the door."
Xiao Guang slipped inside and crouched beside him, staring at the screen. At thirteen, Xiao Guang had grown quite a bit taller, but his gaze at the "Star Core" remained filled with the same awe and curiosity as the first time he saw it.
"Is this... the network?" he whispered.
"Mhm."
"Can we see things from the outside now?"
"Mhm."
Xiao Guang swallowed, not daring to ask more. He knew this was something amazing, but he didn't know just how amazing.
Nangong Wentian began to operate.
The keyboard was modified from a scrapped calculator; the keys were stiff and required considerable force to press. He typed commands one by one, instructing the "Star Core" to search for public network information.
First, the news.
The PLANT Chairman gave a speech, calling on the Earth Federation to cease trade sanctions. The Earth Federation responded, demanding that PLANT open its genetic research institutes for inspection. The Orb Foreign Ministry issued a statement, urging both sides to exercise restraint.
Nangong Wentian read each item, his brow gradually furrowing.
Just as he remembered, the situation was deteriorating. In C.E. 59, the conflict between PLANT and the Earth Federation had become public, with trade wars, diplomatic battles, and propaganda wars escalating daily. Orb, caught in the middle, maintained a facade of neutrality but was under increasing pressure.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang asked quietly, "what does it say?"
"News."
"What kind of news?"
Nangong Wentian was silent for a moment, then said, "News about war."
Xiao Guang froze. He had heard the word "war" before but never imagined it had any connection to his own life. The orphanage was in this remote fishing village, far, far away from any conflict.
"Will... will there be war here?" he asked.
Nangong Wentian did not answer. He didn't know how to answer. He knew what would happen in the future—Bloody Valentine, the First Cosmic War, the fall of Junius 7, countless deaths, countless people displaced.
But he couldn't say it.
"I don't know," he finally said. "I hope not."
Xiao Guang nodded and didn't press further.
Nangong Wentian continued browsing.
After the news came market information. This was his main goal—he needed to understand Orb's economic situation and find a breakthrough.
Public data from the Orb Stock Exchange. Raw material prices. Import and export statistics. Corporate financial reports.
He examined each item with extreme care.
Two hours later, he reached a preliminary conclusion:
Orb's domestic manufacturing industry was experiencing a crisis.
The reason was PLANT's trade blockade. PLANT possessed the most advanced space technology and genetic engineering, but they also needed Earth's resources. Once the trade war began, both sides imposed sanctions on each other, and neutral nations like Orb, which relied heavily on imports and exports, became the biggest victims.
Prices of high-end materials skyrocketed. Aviation-grade aluminum alloy rose by 40%. Titanium alloy increased by 60%. Special ceramics doubled outright.
Small and medium-sized enterprises were suffering. Some large factories were forced to reduce production, while others went bankrupt outright. Workers lost their jobs, the market shrank, and the economy fell into depression.
But one type of enterprise was thriving—
Military contractors.
Morgenroete's orders were booked for the next three years. Morgan Reti Corporation's stock price quadrupled. Those small factories supplying the military were making huge profits.
Nangong Wentian stared at the data, lost in thought.
War was coming, he knew. But before the war arrived, there was one thing he could do—
Make money.
Not for himself. To save more people in the future. War required supplies, rescue efforts needed funding, and reconstruction demanded resources. Without money, nothing could be done.
But how?
He was a nine-year-old child with no identity, no background, and no capital. His only asset was the technology stored in his mind.
He needed a breakthrough to monetize it.
He began searching again.
This time, it was the technical patent database. Orb's patents were publicly available and free to access. He went through them one by one, looking for gaps in the market.
Civilian aluminum alloy technology was mature but costly. Military titanium alloy performed well but was monopolized by Morgenroete. Specialized steel relied on imports and was exorbitantly priced.
Was there a material that performed close to military standards but cost only as much as civilian-grade?
Yes.
A titanium alloy/ceramic composite formula from the UC Era flashed through his mind. It was the armor material of the RX-78-2, far surpassing similar products in this world. But the problem was, that formula required Minovsky Particle-assisted smelting, which wouldn't work in this world.
It needed simplification.
Change the composite structure to a pure alloy, replace particle assistance with conventional heat treatment, adjust...
He closed his eyes, accessing the "Star Core" database in his mind. Countless data streams flowed by as he began filtering, combining, and optimizing.
Xiao Guang watched beside him, not daring to make a sound. He knew Wentian was thinking and shouldn't be disturbed.
A full half hour later, Nangong Wentian opened his eyes.
"Xiao Guang," he suddenly said, "we're going to do something in the future."
Xiao Guang was taken aback. "What?"
"Make alloys."
"Alloy?" Xiao Guang scratched his head. "What's that?"
Nangong Wentian pointed at the broken bowl in the corner—the one he had made last year, still in use without any damage.
"That bowl is made of plastic. Plastic is cheap, but it breaks easily. If it were made of alloy, it could last a lifetime."
Xiao Guang seemed to understand but not fully. "So... we're going to make alloy bowls?"
"Not bowls," Nangong Wentian shook his head. "Something much more impressive. But I can't talk about it now."
Xiao Guang nodded and didn't press further. He was used to Wentian only speaking half of what he meant, knowing he'd find out eventually.
Nangong Wentian turned off the Star Core and stood up, stretching his stiff legs. He had been squatting for too long, and they had gone numb.
"Let's go," he said. "Time to eat."
The two walked out of the back kitchen. The sunlight outside was a bit harsh, and Nangong Wentian squinted, his mind still lingering on the data.
High-end materials relied on imports, energy costs were soaring, and small to medium-sized enterprises were struggling to survive...
This was a crisis, but also an opportunity.
If he could develop an alloy with good performance and low cost, he could break into the market. With money, he could buy better equipment, build a better lab, and accomplish greater things.
Then, when war came, he would have the ability to save more people.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang suddenly asked, "what are you thinking about?"
Nangong Wentian turned to look at him. At thirteen, Xiao Guang still had the innocence of youth on his face, but his eyes were far steadier than those of his peers.
"Thinking about the future," he said.
Xiao Guang grinned. "What's the future like?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment, then pointed toward the distant blue horizon. "See over there?"
Xiao Guang nodded.
"That's what the future looks like."
Xiao Guang followed his finger. On the horizon, a few white clouds drifted leisurely, and a cargo ship slowly passed by, leaving a long trail in its wake.
He watched for a while, then turned back and said earnestly, "No matter what the future is like, I'll follow you."
Nangong Wentian looked at him, warmth swelling in his heart.
"Alright," he said.
The two walked side by side toward the cafeteria. Behind them, inside the wooden crate in the back kitchen, the Star Core's screen was still lit, displaying the last search record—
Atlantic Federation trade delegation arrives in Orb, seeking new energy cooperation.
It was a piece of news he had stumbled upon earlier and casually noted down.
At the time, he didn't know that this piece of information would come in handy many years later.