Chapter 97: The Final Fireworks – A Grand Reunion!

“Protocol Program No. 3? Doctor, how could you let Kalolin install such a blatantly inhumane program?”

“Inhumane? Tian Dao, this is practically standard for every Artificial Stellar Envoy. If there weren’t such a protocol in place, no one would dare trust an AI companion by their side.”

“But Stellar Envoys aren’t machines—they’re people. I don’t think this program is good for Kalolin at all.”

Hearing Tian Dao’s words, Doctor didn’t seem particularly concerned.

After all, a personal protocol program required the Envoy’s own consent.

Without their agreement, no one could implant such a deep-rooted, near-core-level directive into their mind.

“Tian Dao, if you think this program is problematic, you can simply ask Kalolin to delete it herself.”

“After all, the protocol’s sole purpose is to ensure she follows only your commands.”

“And those commands naturally include the ability to erase the protocol itself.”

“Still, I’d suggest you check with Kalolin first. Some things aren’t just about what you think—they must also respect the person involved.”

“After all, that’s a lesson you taught me.”

“…I see.”

“Wait—Kalolin! You’re actually keeping a brainwashed program that lets someone else control you? Are you seriously that dumb as an AI?”

Tian Dao stared, stunned, at Kalolin’s unwavering refusal to delete Protocol Program No. 3.

He had assumed that once he explained it, she’d immediately agree to erase the so-called “idiotic program.”

But to his surprise, she not only refused firmly—she insisted it was their private agreement.

She wouldn’t allow anyone, not even Tian Dao, to tamper with it.

Tian Dao was speechless.

How could anyone willingly keep a fatal vulnerability for another?

Kalolin, however, seemed to read his mind.

She tilted her head slightly and asked, “Tian Dao… will you ever harm me?”

“Why would I harm you?” he replied without hesitation.

“Then it’s settled.”

“…Huh?”

Staring at the utterly bewildered Tian Dao, Kalolin smiled gently.

“Maybe to you, Protocol Program No. 3 feels like an invisible chain.”

“But to me, it’s not a chain—it’s a bond.”

“I can’t promise I’ll always understand your thoughts, but I want to always stand by you, doing what’s right.”

“That’s the very purpose of this third protocol.”

“It ensures I’ll always remain on your side, and never do anything that could hurt you.”

“For me, that’s enough.”

“And besides… as long as you don’t use it, does it even matter if it’s deleted or not?”

“…”

Looking at the naive, serene Kalolin, Tian Dao exhaled slowly, then pointed at her with a sigh.

“Just wait, Kalolin. Just wait. You’ll regret this someday.”

With that, he turned and stormed off.

But as she watched his retreating back, Kalolin didn’t feel anger.

She only laughed—louder, brighter than ever.

“Regret? Tian Dao, I know I’ll never regret this.”

“And even if I do… it won’t be because you did something wrong.”

“It’ll just be because I don’t yet understand your thoughts.”

“Because I believe you’d never hurt me.”

Once, Kalolin had been certain she’d never regret her choice.

She’d never question any decision Tian Dao made.

But now, she had to admit—she did regret it.

And then, the moment she saw the holographic projection trigger the activation of her “Protocol Program No. 3,” she finally understood.

Tian Dao hadn’t just seen this future.

He’d prepared for it.

That included, unbeknownst to her, having already activated the third protocol once before.

And he’d set a condition so precise—even a hologram could trigger it.

Otherwise, a simple projection wouldn’t have been enough to activate such a deeply embedded protocol.

Now, watching Kalolin shift into her Mechanical Personality due to the protocol’s activation, the figure of ‘Tian Dao’ spoke with quiet remorse.

“Sorry, Kalolin.”

“I promised I wouldn’t use this program… and yet, I broke my word.”

“But if I didn’t, I couldn’t guarantee that the hologram alone would make you understand—and accept—what comes next.”

He took a deep breath, his expression turning solemn.

“Trust me, Kalolin. I never do anything without a plan. I never do anything that would hurt you.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to my real body right now… but I believe there’s still hope.”

“Because besides seeing that ‘Perfection’ future… I also saw a faint, but brilliant light.”

“A light named… Miracle.”

“But I always prepare for the worst. So until I’m certain I’ve caught that light… forgive my recklessness.”

With that, the figure issued a clear command.

And the command shocked Kalolin.

It shocked everyone watching.

Because Tian Dao had activated Protocol Program No. 3 not to control her—but to temporarily seal all memories of him.

And the method was… unique.

Instead of deleting the memories, he first sealed them.

Then, he filled the void—the blank space in Kalolin’s mind—with scenes from the original story: Chen Xing and Yun Meng’s arcs.

All moments without Tian Dao.

Kalolin’s original personality resisted, but the protocol bound her.

She could only watch helplessly as the memories of their battles, their shared smiles, the quiet moments—each one slipping away like sand in the wind—were replaced by unfamiliar scenes, devoid of Tian Dao.

But it didn’t stop there.

Tian Dao, still unsatisfied, commanded the Mechanical Personality to pick up her phone.

And then, one by one, she began deleting every photo involving him.

Every trace of him in her life was erased.

And this time, she couldn’t stop it.

When she finished, Tian Dao—though knowing she wouldn’t remember later—abandoned his guilty expression.

His face returned to its familiar arrogance.

The same unshakable confidence, the pride of one who ruled sky and earth.

And then, in a tone perfectly matching his nature, he spoke.

“Kalolin… believe me. When I’m certain I’ve caught that Faint Light,”

“no matter where you are in the future… no matter how hard the path may be… I will find you.”

“And I’ll apologize to you in person.”

“That’s my promise to you.”

The words faded.

Kalolin, following the command, moved forward—expressionless—toward the depths of the Quantum Transit Chamber.

Only when her silhouette vanished from the control room did Tian Dao’s hologram speak again.

This time, the camera angle twisted unnaturally—locking onto his face, as if the words weren’t meant for anyone in the scene… but for you, the audience watching from beyond the screen.

And suddenly, it clicked.

“Kalolin… Miracle is rare. But I believe I can catch it.”

“Not for any reason—just because of the name: Tian Dao Siming.”

“And until that miracle comes… let me give these ill-intentioned fools one final fireworks display.”

“Want to steal the secrets of the stars?”

“Then prove you’ve got the guts to hold on to it.”

“Because once you’ve reached out… you can’t just pull your hand back.”

With that, the hologram dissolved into the air.

And a cold, mechanical voice echoed through the entire underground base.

[Base Self-Destruct Protocol Activated]

[05:59]

[05:58]

[05:57]

Though the scene on screen was filled with sorrowful farewells, the reaction from the Dimensional Audience was the exact opposite.

They didn’t cry.

They laughed.

They laughed so hard, they nearly fell off their chairs.

Champagne? Not needed.

Because if Tian Dao was really leaving… why would he say all that?

No.

This wasn’t an end.

This was a signal—a message from the Stars production team, protecting their own.

And once that truth sank in, the mood in the chat exploded.

The celebration had begun.

> “All rise! This move is out of this world!”

> “Is this the awakening of the victorious declaration? Tian Dao, you’re still got it!”

> “Haha! I knew it! With a character this iconic, this popular, this full of memes—the team would be insane to kill him!”

> “Brothers, open the champagne!”

> “Put that away! Who gave you permission to start the feast? Haven’t you seen—he’s coming back!”

> “Season 2: The Husband’s Fire-Burning Phase is booked!”

> “I don’t care about the rest—brothers, see you in the next season!”

> “Uh… does anyone care about the real protagonist here? Isn’t Kong the main guy?”

Amid the laughter and chaos, the camera slowly pulled back—high into the sky.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Then, in a storm of fire and explosions, Yujin Base—the most pivotal location of Season 1—was consumed in a dazzling, radiant explosion.

A final, magnificent firework.

Though The Prequel of the Stars: Embers still had one episode left, everyone knew it would only serve to tie up loose ends and drop hints for Season 2.

The true story of Season 1 was over.

And the reaction?

The Dimensional Screen was a sea of messages—proof that, as Tian Dao had once said, audiences don’t like tragedies.

Meanwhile, back in the studio, the Stars team sat in front of their screens, silently wiping sweat from their brows, then exhaled deeply.

Thank goodness.

Their family was safe.

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PS: Today’s update is done. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be making up the missed bonus chapters for monthly votes and alliance leaders.

There’s too much owed—can’t keep piling it up.

As for this Season 1 finale, after careful thought, I decided not to make it overly sad.

We already had enough sorrow earlier.

A happy ending? That works too.

Honestly, I’m not a fan of tragedies myself. Hehe.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end