“Last December in Chicago, at the Hancock Tower, the west wall between the thirteenth and fifteenth floors was destroyed by a shockwave. This was because Chu Zihang used a weapon supposedly still ‘in testing’ from the Gear Department—the ‘Breath of Light and Dust.’ It was originally intended as a reliable, portable single-soldier combat device, akin to a handgun… but for some reason, it caused a high-intensity shockwave. The weapon was re-forged after the mission and hasn’t been redeployed since.”
“He’s just too much!” Finger ran his fingers through his messy hair.
The atmosphere was tense. Although they considered themselves experts at “cleaning coal,” the paparazzi were feeling disheartened in the face of such a mountain of criminal records. Once something gets picked up by the media, it’s hard to contain. The influence of public media is just too vast; they can’t recall millions of newspapers for destruction, nor can they brainwash the entire world.
“Let’s just outright deny it! The pervert who was hanged, the collapsed Cape Town stadium—what does any of that have to do with Chu Zihang?” One of the paparazzi stood up, slapping the table hard, filled with a do-or-die determination. “He was merely there on a mission—it’s all just a coincidence! All of this is a coincidence! The CIA did this before—they sent agents to instigate a coup in some South American country, but when they came back, they said it had nothing to do with them—they were just on vacation, even bought cigars!”
“Naive!” Finger reprimanded, his face stern. “We can deny it, but the problem is, the hearing isn’t decided by us. The final say lies with the council of tenured professors. Those old scholars and mystics—if they believe Chu Zihang was involved, our denial will be useless.”
“The best way to prove Chu Zihang didn’t do these things is to prove someone else did them.” One of the paparazzi clearly had some legal knowledge. “To prove a suspect is innocent, the best way is to identify the real culprit.”
“You mean framing someone?” someone asked.
“You could put it that way, but it’s a crude term,” the legal-savvy paparazzi said, a little embarrassed.
“Forget refinement! Who cares if it’s elegant or not! As long as we win the argument, that’s all that matters. This is a debate—just some wordplay,” Finger said. “But you’ve got a point.”
“The problem is, these aren’t things an ordinary person could do—clearly, they’re related to hybrids or dragons,” one of the underlings frowned. “If it wasn’t Chu Zihang, then it had to be some other lunatic. There aren’t many suitable scapegoats.”
“I know a group of people! They’re perfect!” Finger slapped his thigh, his eyes gleaming.
On the screen, the download progress bar had surpassed 95%. Soon, all the hidden files on Norma’s storage would be fully backed up onto Parsi’s hard drive array. No one could stop this backup, because no one’s authority could override the White Card. With the White Card, Parsi was like a god within Norma’s network, while other users were like ants—crawling around, unaware of the divine gaze above.
Suddenly, traffic to and from the central control room began increasing again. It seemed that after regrouping, the paparazzi had fervently thrown themselves back into work, unaware that all the incoming and outgoing data was being monitored by Parsi.
Parsi attempted to switch to their interface to see what those paparazzi were up to.
“Hello there, I don’t know who you are, but unfortunately, your access must be terminated. My apologies, but it can’t be helped—a higher authority has given the order.” Suddenly, a highly detailed 3D simulated character appeared on the screen. It was a girl, wearing a white nightgown, as if she were floating in the air. Her long hair flowed, and she wore a sweet smile. The contrast between her and the crude interface was stark—like a high-definition beauty from a PS3 game popping up on a Nintendo NES. For a moment, Parsi leaned back, as if overwhelmed by the pressure of her beauty.
He instinctively pressed “esc.” It was an emergency operation—terminating remote control.
He thought he was being hacked, but quickly realized that he couldn’t possibly be hacked. Right now, he was like a god—who could invade a god’s sanctuary?
The “esc” key didn’t work. As the girl bowed, the entire screen went dark, leaving only the dark red progress bar—it had reached 98%. But instead of progressing, it started retreating rapidly. Parsi reached out, trying to pull the data cable connecting the hard drive array, but it was too late—the progress bar returned to zero. Everything he had downloaded was remotely erased. The White Card popped out of the slot with a “snap.”
He had been rejected.
He felt a shadow cast over him. They had done ample research before coming here, collecting a lot of information. They were, after all, directly under the School Board, and thought they understood this campus well enough. But since stepping into this place and meeting that legendary vice principal, things hidden in the dark had begun to surface. He was now surrounded—he had to break through.
Parsi sat in the dark for a few minutes, then picked up the White Card and rushed out of the room.
Chu Zihang slowly opened his eyes, seeing a figure standing by his hospital bed in the darkness.
Chu Zihang silently looked at him without much surprise. He had sensed the person’s approach, and the man hadn’t even tried to hide his presence. This special care unit could only be accessed by people with special permission, but this person evidently hadn’t gotten it. He was like a thief, only one who politely knocked on the door before entering.
“Hello, sorry to disturb your rest. May I turn on the light?” the figure asked.
Chu Zihang nodded.
The figure turned on the bedside lamp, and Chu Zihang finally saw his face clearly. It was a delicate, soft face, but most people would be distracted by his strange eyes rather than his facial structure. One eye was ocean blue, and the other a light gold—like a prized Persian cat. When Chu Zihang made eye contact, he felt as though he were staring at a Persian cat: calm, gentle, even friendly, yet highly perceptive.
Cats are enigmatic creatures, and Chu Zihang couldn’t quite read this person’s gaze either.
“My name is Parsi, secretary of the investigation team. I’m here to investigate you,” the man introduced himself.
“Hello,” Chu Zihang said.
“I need a sample of your blood; it will help us study you.” Parsi took out a vacuum tube, sealed in a plastic bag, and inserted it into Chu Zihang’s hand. The vacuum automatically drew one milliliter of blood into the tube. Parsi removed the tube, performing the entire action with the efficiency of a responsible doctor—professional, composed, and carrying an undeniable air of authority, as if everything was for your own good.
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