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Chapter 54
Cameron’s blood pressure soared to 180.
“Professor Thorne, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Nielsen strode in briskly from the door, shaking hands tightly with the Bishop of the Round Table sitting in a wheelchair, displaying impeccable manners that completely belied the small incident he had just encountered with Cameron outside the venue. “Congratulations on winning this year’s Peace Prize.”
This was a small meeting room outside the awards ceremony venue, with journalists not yet in position. The Bishop of the Round Table, covered with a blanket, sat in a wheelchair, accompanied only by Pardes and a few students.
“I am also honored to meet you, Mr. Director-General.” Although he must have been well aware that Nielsen did not like to meet him, he showed no sign of it, smiling as he said, “I have been looking forward to discussing the proposal for peaceful coexistence with you, hoping it will be implemented during your tenure.”
Nielsen would be crazy to allow this proposal to be implemented during his tenure, but fortunately, political promises were not always kept. “Of course, I also hope so. The International Supervision General Administration is the statutory body regulating global evolutionists and safeguarding human rights—”
He paused, lifting his head sharply to glance upward.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Director-General?”
Whether he was being overly sensitive or not, there seemed to be an extremely subtle and barely perceptible energy fluctuation in the distance above his head, but it disappeared in an instant.
Nielsen’s brows were slightly furrowed.
Was it just his imagination?
“…It is our top priority,” he said, lowering his head and turning to the Bishop of the Round Table, continuing while gesturing with his other hand behind his back.
—There seems to be something wrong with the security on the rooftop; send someone to check.
His several A-class subordinates behind him remained calm and quickly dispersed, stepping back out of the room.
“You’ve had a long journey; it must have been tiring,” Nielsen said with a smile, showing no sign of abnormality and gesturing with his hand, “Please.”
Meanwhile, on the rooftop terrace of the hotel.
Rong Qi stood at a height, facing the biting wind, gazing down at the venue below, which was carpeted in red. He watched until Nielsen’s figure disappeared through the gates, feeling somewhat regretful.
“If they can’t make a decision after so many days…”
Behind him came the hurried footsteps of the A-class subordinates rushing up to conduct patrols. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice Rong Qi’s presence, as if they couldn’t perceive his existence at all or sense the powerful aura of his abilities.
“Clear!” “Clear!”
“All clear!”
The well-trained security personnel searched every corner, visibly puzzled but unable to do anything. They reported their findings through the walkie-talkie and quickly retreated to search the entire building.
Rong Qi stood at the edge of the terrace, shrugged his shoulders, and sighed with a relaxed yet wistful demeanor:
“Then I’ll have to give you a little push, Mr. Director-General.”
***
Nielsen was able to be elected as the first Director-General, and despite facing countless impeachments during his five-year term, he remained steadfast. This was not only because, prior to the arrival of a bug-like law of causality, ‘The Tyrant’ was recognized as the most terrifying S-class ability in terms of attack power globally.
The most important point was that he had a family background even before evolution, making him a seasoned and adept politician skilled in concealment.
Despite inwardly rejecting every provision of the proposal for peaceful coexistence, Nielsen remained polite and patiently listened to every suggestion the bishop made regarding the proposal. The two of them discussed matters until noon in a cordial and friendly atmosphere, and Nielsen personally led the bishop and his party to a pre-arranged dining room.
“Thank you, Mr. Director-General, for taking the time to listen to our suggestions amidst your busy schedule.”
The bishop was sitting in his wheelchair as he looked up at Nielsen. Despite Nielsen’s towering height of over six feet, the old man showed no signs of feeling inferior; his eyes held only sincerity and hope. “The last thing evolutionists can afford is to engage in war with humanity. We have over eighty thousand C-class and D-class evolutionists, absolutely unable to withstand the precision nuclear strikes of humans. If war breaks out, we will quickly fall. Only peaceful coexistence can ensure our presence alongside humans on this beautiful planet.”
The young students of the Round Table all wore expressions of concern, except for Pardes, who remained indifferent.
“…”
Nielsen looked down at the approving faces around him, a surge of impulse pressing against his throat, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “What if, after several generations of peaceful coexistence, the population of evolutionists suddenly decreases dramatically?”
The bishop paused for a moment. “Do you mean entering a population bottleneck?”
Nielsen realized his mistake and remained silent.
“A population bottleneck would require a sharp and drastic reduction in the number of evolutionists within a very short period, but it seems highly unlikely at present,” the bishop chuckled suddenly. “In the past five years, evolutionists marrying humans have had about a thirty percent chance of producing evolutionist offspring, and our overall population is gradually increasing steadily. Unless there is a terrifying genetic mutation in the future…”
“What if a genetic mutation leads to reproductive isolation?”
The bishop was taken aback.
“What if our descendants became reproductively isolated from humans?” Nielsen stared intently into the old man’s cloudy eyes, attempting to mask his words as a joke, but the slight tremble in his gray-blue pupils betrayed his true emotions. “If reproductive isolation is imminent, what will become of the Earth?”
“…” The bishop was stunned, and after a moment, he let out a short, almost incredulous laugh.
“Forgive my presumption, Mr. Director-General. There is no evidence whatsoever to suggest that evolutionists will become reproductively isolated from humans. It’s simply absurd—”
The bishop’s words suddenly halted.
Nielsen was taken aback, then he realized that not only the bishop but everyone in the room, including his A-class evolutionist subordinates, had fallen into a state of immobilization like puppets.
What’s happening?
Nielsen’s mind instantly sounded the alarm bells, and he was about to bolt out of the room when, in that critical moment—
A gentle and pleasant voice came from behind: “Do you remember what I said?”
“!”
Nielsen suddenly turned around, his pupils shrinking, only to find Rong Qi standing at the door!
“How did you get in?!”
Nielsen instinctively took a half-step back, but then Rong Qi disappeared into thin air. At the same time, that devilishly gentle voice resounded from behind again:
“I told you, if you don’t want to repeat the tragedy, stand with me. Do you remember?”
“What are you doing here?!”
Nielsen conjured a dagger of solid ice in his hand and turned around to stab Rong Qi directly in the throat, only to pass through what seemed like an insubstantial shadow. In almost an instant, Nielsen pressed forward step by step, while Rong Qi retreated with swift steps. Suddenly, Rong Qi transformed into several afterimages, each emanating a condescending tone of pity:
“—You’re welcome, Director-General. I’m here to help you make the final decision.”
Before his words were even finished, splut!
Nielsen stabbed Rong Qi’s chest with his dagger, and blood sprayed out wildly!
In that moment, Nielsen realized something, and he felt as if he were falling into an abyss.
He saw Rong Qi’s blood-covered body turn into some kind of fluid, layer by layer, flowing away and disappearing as if he had never appeared before.
And the object Nielsen’s dagger pierced wasn’t Rong Qi at all; it was the bishop’s throat in the wheelchair!
As if a strange illusion had been lifted, everyone around suddenly woke up from their stupor and witnessed this horrifying scene:
“B-Bishop?!”
Nielsen’s pupils dilated sharply. The bishop’s expression was one of disbelief, and a torrent of blood gushed from his wrinkled mouth. His head then slumped lifelessly; his eyes were opened, devoid of any sign of life.
He was dead.
In front of everyone’s eyes, he died at the hands of Nielsen.
Pardes turned to Nielsen, unable to believe what he was seeing, trembling as he uttered two words: “…Director-General?!”
Clang!
The supernatural dagger slipped from Nielsen’s hand, turning into nothingness, and he staggered back a half step.
His mind was buzzing, and his first instinct was to deny it wasn’t him, to say that just moments ago it was Rong Qi standing there, and he had been manipulated. But years of experience in the political arena had cultivated a powerful, deep-seated instinct in him that kicked in at this crucial moment.
At this point, saying anything would be futile. Nielsen had been in a state of turmoil for some time, and now he had completely fallen into Rong Qi’s trap.
The immediate priority wasn’t to stand here futilely trying to explain. That would only lead to him being taken away like a scapegoat, with all his connections severed by political enemies, completely losing any chance of self-rescue, and falling into an abyss from which there was no return.
“Help… help!” Parde finally managed to squeeze out a trembling voice, staggering away amidst the screams of the young students, disregarding everything as he shouted, “Come, someone! Help! Help—”
Snap!
Nielsen’s face was as calm as water. With a snap of his fingers, his psychic abilities were instantly activated. Everyone present blacked out simultaneously, losing consciousness.
Thud, thud, thud. One after another, people collapsed to the ground in successive echoes.
“Director-General?” Only his trusted secretary remained standing, though barely, needing to lean on the edge of the table to stay upright. Looking at the bishop’s tragic death in front of him, he could barely form coherent words. “Why… why…”
Nielsen’s voice was stern: “I’ve been outplayed by that man named Rong. Now is not the time for words.”
He decisively waved his hand, and his powers formed a barrier that rapidly expanded in all directions until it enveloped the entire room like a protective shield.
A-class ability, Cage of Logic.
It was a combination of a physical barrier and logical intersection ability. Outsiders couldn’t enter the small area locked by this ability, and at the same time, the ability automatically simulated scenes based on causal logic to show to the outside world. The duration could last up to three hours.
“Call someone to keep an eye on Cameron. Don’t miss anything he does. If he notices this room, notify me immediately.” Nielsen straightened his clothes and walked away, his voice cold. “Inform the dock to prepare the ship. We’re setting sail for Saint Carter’s Fort immediately.”
His secretary followed behind, still flustered but now with a clear mind, realizing something. “Are you planning to go—”
“To block that winning card.”
Nielsen’s voice was calm and low, but his pupils were like a sky covered with dark clouds, revealing the faintly terrifying visage of a storm lurking behind the clouds.
***
Outside the hall, amidst the fragrance of perfume and the elegance of attire, the luncheon was about to begin.
Cameron warmly shook hands and conversed with an ambassador, who hurriedly approached him. In the atmosphere of jest and friendliness, they laughed heartily and exchanged pleasantries, posing for a photo with smiles plastered on their faces before parting ways. As he turned around, Cameron’s gray-green eyes showed no trace of emotion.
Ants, he thought.
Evolutionists view humans as ants, and even the so-called evolutionists themselves, whose social behaviors regressed to genetic instincts, were nothing more than ants. The vast majority of people in this world were rabbles, blindly following, ignorant, easily swayed by emotions, and filled with righteous indignation. Cameron had known for a long time that, as long as you could make them believe they were the only ones sober in a crowd, they would mistakenly think they had grasped the truth that only a few could see. If you could make them believe they were thinking independently, they would obediently and skillfully, like army ants, emit any sound you wanted them to emit to the outside world.
But there was no way.
Cameron navigated through the crowd of elites with a champagne glass in hand, raising toasts to the guests along the way and stopping occasionally to smile for photos with various old friends.
Since you couldn’t build a rocket and launch yourself into outer space to enjoy solitude as you dreamed of as a child, you could only live on this bustling Earth, making choices between two groups of ants, letting one group live while killing the other.
“Mr. Cameron.” At that moment, a trusted aide hurried through the crowd and stopped behind him, his voice somewhat tense. “The situation with Nielsen doesn’t seem right.”
Cameron turned his head slightly.
“The perimeter personnel responsible for surveillance reported that Nielsen just left from the back door and got into a car, but over in the dining room, Nielsen is still entertaining the bishop and his party. We suspect some kind of supernatural ability.”
A flicker of concern crossed Cameron’s brow. Without hesitation, he immediately strode through the crowd toward the side entrance of the banquet hall.
His aide gestured to the surrounding area, and security personnel from the Security Council immediately converged from all corners, following Cameron out of the banquet hall and heading straight for the upstairs dining room where the Bishop from the Round Table was being entertained.
However, at the end of the corridor, a group of inspectors from the General Administration came rushing toward them. Almost as soon as they laid eyes on Cameron:
“—What are you doing?” “Stop right there!” “Don’t move!”
Ordinary people wouldn’t react so quickly in this situation, but Cameron’s intellect was unmatched. At the moment he encountered the group of evolutionists, he quickly ran through their identities, equipment, and every detail from head to toe in his mind. His heart raced, his expression changed in an instant, and just as the security guards rushed forward, he agilely slipped through the gap and seized the opportunity to glance into the dining room through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Through the crack in the curtains, Nielsen sat at the head of the long table, surrounded by people chatting amiably as they dined.
Everything seemed perfect, with no hint of anything amiss.
“Mr. Cameron! You cannot intrude into the International General Administration’s luncheon!” Several evolutionists forcibly dragged him back, shouting sternly, “Come one. Get them out of here!”
Amidst the chaos, Cameron nearly stumbled, but he had no time to spare. His gaze swept over every corner of the dining room, landing on the wrinkled lips of the bishop, then turning to Pardes and the lips of several young students.
In an instant, Cameron’s pupils contracted. He finally discovered the flaw from their lip movements—
These people were speaking German.
German was Nielsen’s native language. How could suddenly everyone in the room be proficiently conversing in German?
The conflict between the two groups escalated rapidly: “Get out!” “Someone!” “Get out immediately!”
Unperturbed by the pushing and shoving, Cameron reached out and swiftly drew the specialized gun from the waist of one of the evolutionists, aiming it at the floor-to-ceiling window without hesitation—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The glass shattered with a crash, breaking the cage of logic.
The next moment, the gruesome reality of the room was revealed before everyone’s eyes.
There was no jovial atmosphere, no luncheon gathering. People lay scattered across the floor, unconscious. The bishop from the Round Table slumped in his wheelchair. His whole body was covered with blood, his throat pierced through; he was unmistakably dead!
“Help… help…” Pardes struggled to crawl across the ground, his mind hazy from barely resisting the supernatural ability.
“The… the Director-General… killed… killed the bishop…”
Shouts and screams erupted instantaneously.
Chaos reached its peak as Security Council members tried desperately to rush in, while General Administration inspectors futilely resisted. Only Cameron stood there, his heart sinking to the depths, a chilling sensation rising within him—
Nielsen wasn’t in the dining room.
Where had he gone?
***
Meanwhile, on the other end of the island.
The Beach Hotel.
Bai Sheng walked out of the hotel’s entrance with one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his trousers.
The sunlight reflected off his expressionless, striking profile. His slender, straight nose resembled a finely carved blade, and a shadow of coldness lingered at the corners of his lips.
Below the hotel steps sat a black Mercedes-Benz, sent by the organizers to pick him up. The driver stood politely by the car door, waiting for him.
Rarely would Bai Sheng bother with his appearance as he does now. His hair was impeccably groomed, and his black tailored suit and matching leather shoes exuded a sense of refinement and sophistication. The texture and cut of the fabric were of the highest quality, while the silver-gray handkerchief and tie complemented each other perfectly, emanating an aura of aloofness and dominance.
Compared to his usual relaxed and friendly demeanor, always ready to laugh and chat with anyone, he seemed like a completely different person.
In truth, Bai Sheng had been so restless that he had no desire to attend the luncheon. As an S-class, he enjoyed the freedom to socialize as he pleased. No matter how grand or formal the occasion, he went if he wanted to and didn’t if he didn’t, and no one would dare question or force this S-class into any etiquette obligations.
Yet, at the last moment before heading to the banquet, he couldn’t suppress the genuine desire in his restless heart.
He wanted to see Shen Zhuo.
As one approached such moments, it became all the more essential to maintain respect for others’ decisions. However, rationality and emotions were indeed two different matters. The young wolf collided head-on with the first mate he had ever desired, and his heart was ablaze, his heartbeat suppressing a fervor he had never experienced before. With no prior experience to guide him, he could only stumble forward, following his instincts.
Even if it meant showing vulnerability or yielding, even if it required seizing the opportunity.
Just seeing each other was enough, calmly looking at each other was also acceptable.
Bai Sheng descended the hotel steps, silently exhaling and nodding to the driver who opened the car door.
At that moment, his phone rang, displaying an unknown number.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was speaking English very quickly, bombarding him with questions: “Shen Zhuo isn’t answering his phone. Is he with you?”
“…”
Bai Sheng’s memory was sharp enough to recognize the voice within half a second; it was the high-ranking official from the Security Council, Elton Cameron. But the question was so unexpected that Bai Sheng didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no. Instead, he asked back:
“Who are you?”
“Don’t play dumb, S-class.” There was background noise on Cameron’s end, indicating he was walking briskly as he spoke. “You already know who I am. Listen to me: From now on, Shen Zhuo must not leave your sight for even a second. Whatever happens, no one should take him away. I’ll send a helicopter to pick you up and get you off this island.”
“…” Bai Sheng sensed something and furrowed his brows slightly. “What happened over there at the venue?”
Cameron glanced back as he hurried through the crowd under the protection of his entourage.
The dining room was already surrounded by journalists, and chaos reigned as the evolutionists blocked all exits.
Amidst the panic, everyone searched frantically for Nielsen, unaware that he had long left the venue.
“Nielsen went to find Shen Zhuo,” Cameron said coldly through clenched teeth. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s about to do something very detrimental to Shen Zhuo. Do you understand what I mean?”
There was no response from the other end of the call. Just as Cameron was about to reiterate, Bai Sheng’s answer came, tinged with incredulity:
“…What did you say?”
Cameron keenly caught his meaning, abruptly stopping in his tracks, almost unable to believe his ears. “You’re not together?!”
In that instant, the reaction from the other end gave him the answer.
“You two are stuck together like conjoint twins every day, so why on earth did you choose today of all days to learn to walk independently?!” Cameron roared mercilessly, almost having his blood pressure rise from the anger due to these insignificant ants. “Where is Shen Zhuo now?!”
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