296: Chapter 296 Does God Live in the Top Floor?

Chapter 296: Does God Live on the Top Floor? Bang!

Chen Mo slammed his face hard against the glass panel.

The sound of his nasal bone shattering was crisp and clear.

“Ah!!!”

Russell let out a pig-slaughtering shriek, his nose bleeding profusely and covering the entire recognition area.

“I knew you weren't being honest.”

Chen Mo looked at him indifferently. “Your heart is beating too fast, Senator. Your heartbeat is like a petty thief who just stole something—one hundred forty beats per minute, and it even skipped a beat when that red light flashed.”

“That was... that was nerves!”

Russell clutched his broken nose, snot and tears streaming down his face. “You broke my nose! How am I supposed to verify now?!”

“No need for verification.”

Chen Mo raised his right hand, ripped the Smart Terminal off Russell's wrist, and forcibly connected it to his own.

“green text, do your job.”

“Overwriting now.”

The cascade of green code in his mind rushed down. “This guy did trigger a Level Two Alert just now. Gas release in five seconds. But I intercepted his Biometric Key and am forging authorization commands... Done!”

Beep—

The panel, which had been flashing yellow, instantly turned green, signaling passage authorized.

The heavy Titanium Alloy Door made a low hydraulic sound and slowly slid open to the sides.

“How is this possible...”

Russell slumped onto the floor, watching the scene in disbelief. “This is a military-grade independent system, how could you possibly...”

“In this world, if it's connected to a network, there is no absolute wall.”

Chen Mo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the elevator like a dead dog.

This was a fully transparent Observation Elevator.

But instead of scenery, the outside was filled with dense pipes and cables, like the veins and nerves of this giant city.

“Level 200.”

Chen Mo pressed the only button available.

The elevator started.

The overload caused by the ultra-high-speed ascent made Russell involuntarily dry heave.

Chen Mo, however, stood perfectly straight.

He leaned against the elevator wall, looking down at his smoking left arm.

That thing was completely totaled: the metal framework was deformed, the casing melted, and it was dead weight, severely affecting his balance.

“I'm going to take it off.”

Chen Mo suddenly said.

“What?” Russell didn't hear clearly.

Chen Mo did not explain.

He raised his right hand and gripped the connection latch on his left shoulder, a mechanical slot designed for easy maintenance.

But due to the earlier impact and high temperature, the slot was deformed and welded shut.

That didn't stop him.

Chen Mo took a deep breath, gripped the fractured metal humerus with his right hand, and tensed all his muscles.

This was an extremely brutal method.

Ripping it off.

“You're insane...” Russell stared at him in horror. “That's connected to your collarbone...”

Screech—!

The sound of metal tearing, enough to set teeth on edge, rang out.

Veins bulged on Chen Mo's forehead, and cold sweat mixed with blood ran down his face.

Pfft.

Several nerve lines and Artificial Tendons that hadn't fully broken were forcibly ripped apart.

Thud.

The thirty-kilogram piece of scrap metal dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

Chen Mo's left shoulder was a bloody mess, revealing stark white bone and several sparking interfaces.

He didn't even let out a groan.

He merely pulled a roll of Medical Tape from his pocket with his right hand, bit down on it, and crudely wrapped it around the wound a few times, stopping the gushing blood.

“Hoo...”

Chen Mo exhaled a mouthful of stale air and shook his head. “Much lighter.”

Russell huddled in the corner, looking at Chen Mo as if he were staring at a monster, not a man.

“What exactly... is all this for?”

Russell asked tremulously. “For money? For fame? With your skill, you could claim any territory in the Lower City District and be a king. Why come up here to die?”

“Die?”

Chen Mo glanced at him. “Perhaps.”

“You have no idea what's up there.”

Russell seemed to recover from his shock, a strange look—part mockery, part pity—appearing on his face.

“Who do you think lives on the top floor? The big boss? The mastermind? Or the Emperor who rules the world?”

“I don't care who lives there.”

Chen Mo watched the constantly changing floor numbers—198, 199.

“I only care if he's home.”

Ding.

The elevator stopped.

Level 200.

The door slowly opened.

There was no expected hail of bullets.

No fully armed Mecha Troops.

There weren't even walls.

What blew in was a gust of wind.

It carried the earthy smell of soil and the fragrance of green grass.

Chen Mo was stunned.

He stepped out of the elevator, and his feet landed not on a metal floor, but on soft... soil.

Was this really Level 200?

There was no ceiling here; looking up, he could see the deep blue night sky, the stars frighteningly bright.

No, that was a Holographic Projection.

But the projection was incredibly realistic, flawlessly simulating even the air humidity and temperature.

This entire floor was actually a forest.

Real trees, not plastic or metal landscape trees, but old oak trees with rough bark and falling leaves.

The sound of running water could be heard in the distance.

In this Nest City, where every inch of land is precious and even breathing is taxed, the cost of this single floor could probably buy the entire Lower City District.

“This is the Cloud Garden.”

Russell stumbled out, gazing at the scenery with a look of obsession. “God's backyard. Here, there is no smog, no acid rain, no noise. Only eternal tranquility.”

“Disgusting.”

Chen Mo gave his assessment.

He hated this false tranquility.

Every leaf here was nourished by the blood and sweat of the people below.

“Where is the person?” Chen Mo asked.

“Over there.”

Russell pointed toward the depths of the forest, where a small white house was faintly visible. “That is the residence of ‘The Teacher’.”

Chen Mo gripped his gun and walked in that direction.

The forest was very quiet.

Quiet to the point of being eerie.

There were no bird calls, no insect chirps; even the sound of wind rustling the leaves was a looped sound effect.

“Warning.”

green text suddenly popped up. “Environmental scan anomaly. The radiation level here... is zero?”

“What does that mean?”

“In this world full of nuclear waste and industrial pollution, even an operating room has trace radiation. But here... it's as clean as a vacuum.”

green text paused. “Or rather, something is absorbing the radiation.”

Chen Mo stopped.

He felt it.

The heart in his chest was beating slower and slower.

Not failure.

But a sense of... belonging.

Like a child who had been away from home for years, finally smelling his mother's cooking.

The volatile Nuclear Heart suddenly became docile, every beat resonating with a certain frequency in the environment.

“Look.”

Russell suddenly laughed.

He pointed at a large tree ahead.

A person was sitting beneath the tree.

It was a back view.

Dressed in coarse grey linen, with white hair, he sat at a simple wooden table.

He held a Carving Knife and was carving something.

No bodyguards.

No defense towers.

Like an ordinary retired old man doing crafts in a park.

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