Chapter 400: Dialogue |
On the morning of May 4th, at nine o'clock, a coordinated cyberattack hijacked half of the Federation's television stations during their morning news broadcasts. The scheduled programs vanished, replaced by a single image: White Crow, clad in a long white trench coat, standing at a lectern to deliver a declaration on behalf of the Balance Church.
“I stand before you today not as a religious leader,” she began, “but as a representative for the interests of every impoverished and unjustly treated region across the globe. I carry the aspirations of the common people, their yearning for a life of equality and freedom. I am here to speak with you as the leader of a mature political entity...”
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Viewers, frozen in shock at first, began to cry out in terror, as if an elephant had just smashed through the fence at a zoo. But it wasn't long before some of them realized this particular "elephant" posed no threat to them.
They stared at their screens, transfixed as if by some bizarre spectacle, eager to hear what the infamous leader of the so-called terrorist resistance was actually saying.
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...
In a freshly cleaned temporary meeting room, three floors below ground in the Weird Investigation Bureau's North Capital headquarters.
When Fu Jue pushed the door open, he found someone was already waiting for him, seated by the coffee table. The man looked up as he entered, placed a tablet on the table, and casually spun it around to face him. The screen was replaying White Crow's speech.
The man who had arrived early appeared to be in his early sixties. His salt-and-pepper hair lay in a disheveled mat against the back of his head, and his face was etched with the benevolent wrinkles of a common retiree you might see strolling through a park. His eyes, however, were alarmingly bright.
He spoke slowly, articulating each word with precision. “On the stage of this final act, where monsters of all kinds run rampant, the ambitious should be taking their turns, one after another. Instead, we have someone singing and dancing in a frenzy, trying to drag the audience into this insane production. That is something I cannot condone.”
“Mr. Hayes.” Fu Jue inclined his head toward the old man and took a seat opposite him, his voice serene. “The world is on the verge of a reboot. This final game will decide more than just the fate of humanity; gods and ghosts will be swept up in the suffering as well.
“The Ancestral God is fated to reawaken, its tendrils of cosmic law consuming everything in their path. Even by pooling all our power, we cannot raise our civilization's chance of survival above eighty percent. To engage in infighting on the brink of such a cataclysm is, without question, an act of irrational folly.”
“That is where we find our common ground,” the old man said. “Your review is officially concluded. Though many among us fear you have already fallen, just as your identity card suggests, and that you will lead humanity into an abyss from which there is no return.”
This was none other than Councilman Brooke Hayes, the one who had requested this meeting with Fu Jue. He was the current patriarch of the North American Hayes family, a former chairman of the Federation Council, and one of the few politicians with enough influence to sway the highest echelons of the Weird Investigation Bureau.
He had entered the Weird Game thirty-six years ago, back when players were few. Though his own talents were mediocre, he had managed to secure a respectable rank on the leaderboards. More importantly, he'd had the foresight to join the Ark Guild and openly support the creation of the Weird Investigation Bureau.
After the Bureau's founding, his focus gradually shifted to the real world. He eventually used the Bureau as a springboard into politics, and on the surface, he ceased to involve himself in the affairs of the Weird Game.
But there was no denying it: as a veteran from the game's earliest days, his influence and power, hidden deep beneath the surface, were not to be underestimated.
Fu Jue regarded him, his eyes behind his glasses reflecting nothing at all. “There are twelve hours until the Final Instance. You wouldn't risk a meeting at such a critical moment just to debate metaphysical concepts like morality.
“Time is of the essence. The Weird Investigation Bureau has already wasted far too much energy on trivialities. As a rational leader, you have no reason to add to that waste.”
“As ‘perceptive’ as ever, President Fu.” The old man deliberately used an archaic phrase, raising his hands to sketch quotation marks in the air. “Perhaps you could enlighten me. Before you arrived, what was your assessment of the purpose of this meeting?”
Fu Jue replied calmly, “Your son, Vader, died in the Holy City instance. While you never publicly showed him much regard, or even allowed him to associate with Kyushu, demanding accountability for his death is only natural. Onlookers will readily accept that as your public motive, filling in the blanks themselves.
“Your true objective, however, is the opposite: given the current situation, any intelligent person would conclude that power must be centralized. The only question is who will wield it.”
The old man was silent for a long moment before letting out a dry, rasping cough. “Impressive, as always, President. To be frank, just a week ago, most of us were prepared to place the full authority of the Bureau and Kyushu in your hands, just as we did twenty-two years ago. Humanity is a species that loves to repeat its mistakes, no different from army ants.”
He picked up a teacup resting upside down on the windowsill, revealing a dried ring of tea stains beneath it. An ant was trapped, tracing the dark circle over and over, destined to remain there until it collapsed from exhaustion.
“To the gods, humans are merely oversized ants, living precariously between their fingers, foolishly celebrating their fleeting moments of luck.” The old man suddenly extended an index finger, using his nail to scrape a small break in the ring of tea stains.
The ant paused at the break in the circle. Its antennae twitched for a moment as if it had finally found its bearings, then it scurried through the gap and sped across the smooth tabletop.
A faint smile touched the old man's lips. “But sometimes I wonder... if we were to choose a different path, might we surprise those gods on high?”
“I am not concerned with your thoughts,” Fu Jue stated. “Regardless of the past or the future, for the duration of the Final Instance, I will seize absolute control over every branch of the Federation.”
“That's impossible,” the old man said, shaking his head. “Last night, I had Vader's body autopsied. We found traces of Puppet Thread inside him. How strange... the bright, flawless President is one and the same as the vile and villainous Puppet Master. I should find it unbelievable, and yet... it somehow feels perfectly normal...”
Fu Jue's expression remained unchanged, his gaze fixed on the ant now scurrying frantically across the table. “You knew about my skills, yet you still dared to meet me alone. You must have come fully prepared.”
“Indeed, President. And this will be the last time I call you that.” The old man began to laugh. “I chose the North Capital deliberately, to lower your guard. This room was sealed from the outside the moment you stepped through the door. In half an hour, it will be flooded with concrete—a procedure you should be familiar with.
“Admit it. No matter how powerful we become in the game, in the real world we are still only human. After today, you will be contained. You'll become Containment Subject S-11. Not even a god can escape this place. After all, we've contained a god before.”
“Very well. I understand.” Fu Jue gave a slight nod. With a flick of his wrist, a pistol materialized in his hand.
The old man, expecting a desperate fight, shot up from his seat and backed away from the table. But Fu Jue remained seated, calmly raising the pistol to his own temple.
His rimless glasses caught the light, glinting coldly. “I know you can see everything happening in this room,” he said, his voice flat. “So now... I will speak to humanity as a third party.” The old man's expression grew solemn, his eyes fixed on Fu Jue's face as if he'd just realized something terrible.
Fu Jue raised his gaze to the surveillance camera on the ceiling, his tone unwavering. “I am the Puppet Master, holder of the Fallen Savior and Silent Dictator identity cards. I am also Fu Jue, the number one player on the Weird Game's leaderboards. For the past twenty-two years, I have visited Bureau branches across the world, and I have infested more than fifty percent of all Weird Investigation Bureau investigators with my Puppet Threads.
“In that time, I have resolved thirty-nine A-level incidents, two hundred thirty-seven B-level incidents, and one thousand eight hundred twenty-six C-level incidents. The total number of other incidents involving my puppets exceeds ten thousand. These supernatural events are scattered across the globe, and with the countermeasures I have put in place, I can trigger them all remotely at any moment. Their combined intensity is sufficient to annihilate human civilization in a matter of hours.
“Alternatively, the moment my heart stops beating, every supernatural threat I have ever personally suppressed will be unleashed. The nearest of these is the ‘Ever-Burning Fire,’ which will erupt from the Daxing'anling forest and spread toward the North Capital.”
Data related to Fu Jue was instantly transmitted to the tablet in the old man's hands. There was no time to verify the specifics, but the numbers of A, B, and C-level incidents he claimed to have handled matched their records perfectly.
The old man was certain of one thing: Fu Jue was not bluffing. And even if he were, it was a gamble no one dared to take.
“You're insane! Fu Jue, this is treason!” the old man roared. On the other side of the screen, the other council members listened to Fu Jue's static-laced declaration, each of them cursing him under their breath.
Fu Jue held the pistol steady in one hand. With the other, he materialized a black-and-white identity card between his fingers. On its face, the white-robed figure nailed upside down to a cross opened eyes as black as night. It was like a ferocious lion kept by the gods on Mount Olympus—at once grand, beautiful, and terrible.
“Rather than allow humanity to drive itself to extinction through its own stupidity after I am gone,” he declared, “I will personally annihilate it the moment I die.”
Half an hour later, Fu Jue and Councilman Hayes walked out of the meeting room side by side.
Councilman Hayes left the North Capital branch headquarters with a grim face, while Fu Jue took an elevator down to the fifth basement level, passed through a silvery alloy wall, and entered the sixth.
He stopped before a door with a display screen that read [SEA GOD's CORPSE], scanned his retina, and pushed the door open.
A giant, deep yellow eyeball hung high overhead. Phantom tentacles stretched through the space, stirring up a sea breeze thick with the smell of salt and brine.
Fu Jue took a card from his pocket, bent down to place it in the center of the floor, then straightened up and nodded to the presence behind the wall. “Lu Li, when the Final Instance begins, you will return to the game, just as I promised.”
...
On the afternoon of May 4th, the real world descended into chaos.
A Federation spokesman held an emergency press conference to denounce the Balance Church's acts of terrorism, only to be devoured mid-sentence by an indistinct black shadow.
The existence of ghosts was now fully exposed, making all past attempts to maintain a peaceful facade seem pale and powerless. Suddenly, everyone knew: monsters were real, and they were the kind that killed...
Fear spread through the populace. Word of Jiang City's fall began to leak out, the official information blockade proving utterly useless. More and more information about the supernatural circulated from person to person.
People began hoarding food and water. Others, with darker intentions, proclaimed the arrival of the apocalypse, gaining a considerable following of pessimists in just half a day.
On the game forums, Fu Jue simply announced his return to the Kyushu Guild, and that as its president, he would gather the most elite forces to enter the Final Instance. A series of smaller guilds, such as Alice and Eagle, would also be merged into Kyushu.
This news didn't attract much attention. For years, players had tacitly considered the smaller guilds to be branches of Kyushu, and Fu Jue its de facto leader. The title of president seemed like a mere formality.
But a few well-informed players understood exactly what it meant: the Federation's internal struggles had finally come to an end. Fu Jue would become the undisputed representative of humanity, with control over all official factions.
The sky over the Sunset Ruins was a murky yellow. The plaza, tangled with the roots of the giant World Tree, was deserted. Knowing the Final Instance was imminent, the players had all cleared out, lest they be swept up in the coming storm.
Yu Jinsheng sat at the base of the Babylon Tower, leaning back against its cold, hard foundation as if it were a tombstone.
He was pale, as if he had just survived a life-or-death crisis, though his clothes were still neat, likely straightened by his own hand.
The World Tree burst into brilliant golden light, painting the sky and ground as bright as day. Yu Jinsheng opened his fan, half-covering his face as if to shield himself from the blinding future.
Beneath the four ink characters reading “Defy Heaven, Change Fate,” he let out a soft sigh and materialized a black-and-gold identity card in his hand.
He held the card, studying it for a moment with a wry smile. “President, I can't foresee the end of this game.
“By all rights, this should be where I bow out and save my own skin. But you just had to pave that road right to my feet. If I ran away now, it would be a tad irresponsible of me, wouldn't it?”
Black patterns extended from the surface of the identity card, burrowing like tentacles into the blood vessels of Yu Jinsheng's arm. He waited calmly, his smile growing even more bitter.
“I'm just a coward who's afraid of dying. Getting dragged into this chess game was a fluke. I've done my best to play the part you all needed, but I've never felt like I owed anyone anything, or that anyone owed me.
“You all see me as so important, and it leaves me terrified and exasperated. So let this be the last time I risk my life for you all. I'll place one final, massive bet, and wish you all the best in achieving your desires.”
The outline of the identity card dissolved into mist, finally vanishing from Yu Jinsheng's hand.
At the same moment, a new line of text appeared in a blank space on the Stele of Revelation. The name [Yu Jinsheng] was etched there, shining brightly in the celestial light.