167: Chapter 167 Reasons

As the sharp pain at the back of his neck gradually faded, PD snapped his eyes open amidst a heavy wave of dizziness.

There was no damp, dark dungeon as he had imagined, nor were there any foul-smelling torture devices.

What met his eyes was actually a tastefully decorated, luxurious office.

A thick, handmade wool carpet covered the floor, and a brilliant crystal chandelier hung overhead.

If it weren't for the fact that he could still see the fog-shrouded, ruin-like streets of Shinjuku through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, PD might have even thought he had accidentally disconnected his gaming neural link and returned to the real world.

In front of the office desk, a white-haired elderly man dressed in an exquisite tailcoat was playing with a cane in his hand, his back turned to PD as he admired the night view outside.

"Is this... the top floor of that Gun Barrel Building?"

PD rubbed his sore neck and sat up from the leather sofa.

Since the connection to his Command Spells was temporarily blocked by some powerful barrier, he couldn't call for help from his Servants outside.

Hearing the movement, the white-haired old man slowly turned around.

Although his face was identical to that of the Shinjuku Archer who had been by PD's side all this time, his temperament was completely different.

The old man who had been stripped of his "evil" had eyes filled with wisdom and kindness;

but the elderly man before him had sharp eyes as deep as the ocean, and his entire being radiated a suffocating, terrifying aura of control, as if he viewed everything in the world as mere chess pieces.

This was the truly perfect mastermind of crime, an outright leader of villains.

"Welcome to my command tower, Master of Chaldea."

The old man bowed slightly, performing an impeccable gentlemanly salute, a calm and unhurried smile playing on his lips. "Or rather, this is our first official meeting in this demonic realm."

PD suppressed the nervousness in his heart and looked straight into the other's eyes:

"Since you kidnapped me, it's probably not just to invite me for tea, right? The Count said you want to use this building as a gun barrel to blow up the Earth. Why on earth are you doing this?"

Facing PD's blunt exposure of his plan, the old man not only remained unfazed, but a flicker of admiration even flashed in his eyes.

"Edmond Dantès? That avenging demon wandering in hell indeed has an extraordinary sense of smell. He is right. This building is the ultimate execution device I have prepared for this planet."

The old man walked to a blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and lightly tapped on the dense, dizzyingly complex mathematical formulas and gravitational parameters.

Those equations, cascading down like a waterfall, occupied an entire wall.

"Master of Chaldea, what reason do you think is needed to destroy this planet?"

The old man's voice was low and magnetic, carrying a strange, bewitching power. "Is it hatred for humanity's atrocities? A wild fantasy to establish a new order? Or is it to cater to some unspeakable, great existence?"

PD didn't answer, only staring at him coldly.

This was also the common question shared by the viewers in the livestream room.

"Hehe... Actually, it's not that complicated."

Looking at the shimmering formulas around him, a hint of pure, almost childlike fanaticism emerged in the old man's eyes.

"During my lifetime, I was a mathematics professor. My entire life has been spent pursuing the most perfect logic and the most flawless equations. In the process, I happened to calculate an interesting topic—"

The old man gently traced his fingertip across the model representing "Earth" on the blackboard.

"I calculated exactly how much kinetic energy, how sturdy a conceptual weapon, and what precise orbital inclination would be required to pierce this planet's core and trigger a chain collapse."

He turned his head and looked at PD, his smile becoming hair-raisingly creepy at this moment.

"Because I calculated it, I became curious."

"As a rigorous scholar, I urgently want to verify through a practical test whether this set of formulas on my blackboard... is actually correct."

Hearing this utterly absurd reason,

PD opened his mouth wide, completely dumbfounded.

The viewers in the livestream room, who had been speculating about some massive conspiracy, were left even more speechless.

"Holy crap?! Just because he calculated it and wants to see if he's right, he wants to blow up the Earth?!"

"What kind of god-tier villain logic is this? This is a pure madman!"

"Others destroy the world for revenge or ambition, but he's doing it to... submit an academic paper?!"

"This old man is terrifying. His evil has absolutely no emotional coloring; he is completely treating all of humanity as guinea pigs!"

Seeing PD's shocked expression, the old man put away the chalk with satisfaction.

"Now then, having answered your questions, let us talk about official business."

The old man walked over to the sofa opposite PD and sat down. "I have no intention of taking your life. After all, provoking Chaldea would bring no benefit to my upcoming 'experiment'."

"In exchange, I hope you will order your Servants to cease their resistance and immediately withdraw from this Shinjuku Singularity."

"Do you think that's possible?"

PD sneered. "Whether you want to submit a paper or whatever, Chaldea's duty is to protect humanity. How could I just stand by and watch you set off the Earth like a firework?"

"Do not be so quick to refuse. I know your backbone as humanity's final Master."

The old man crossed his hands over his knees, looking completely confident of victory. "This is merely a proposal. You can take your time to consider it later."

He stood up and adjusted the bowtie of his tailcoat.

"In about ten minutes, someone you absolutely would not expect will break through the blockade to rescue you."

"Once you both escape safely, you can contact that omniscient and omnipotent Lady Da Vinci to properly discuss the pros and cons of this deal."

Just then, the mahogany door of the office was pushed open.

Yan Qing, who had reverted to his original appearance, leaned against the doorframe and whistled at the old man:

"Professor, there's a minor situation on the Phantom Demon Alliance's side. You need to go there personally."

"Understood."

The old man nodded, then turned to look at PD. "Well then, I wish you a pleasant wait. If you find yourself bored..."

He pointed his cane toward the far end of the office, at a bulletproof glass door sealed by a heavy magical barrier.

"There is still a prisoner locked up there whom I caught by chance earlier. He is quite an interesting fellow; you can have a chat with him."

With that, the old man and Yan Qing strode out of the office, not even leaving a single guard behind.

"Someone unexpected coming to rescue me? And he specifically left a prisoner to keep me company? What on earth is this old fox up to?"

PD cautiously walked up to the heavy bulletproof glass door.

On the other side of the glass was a cramped confinement cell.

The lights inside were off. Aided by the faint light from outside, PD could vaguely see a figure with his back turned, holding a piece of plaster scraped from who-knows-where, frantically scratching words onto the wall while muttering incoherently.

The man wore a dirty, retro suit with a medieval ruff collar, and his hair was as messy as a bird's nest.

"Hey, buddy inside, were you also captured by that mad professor?" PD tapped on the glass.

"Hearing the sound, the prisoner who was writing and drawing on the wall suddenly whipped his head around.

By the light filtering in from the corridor, the moment that face became clear, not only PD but also the tens of thousands of viewers in the livestream room froze for a second, before immediately filling the screen with gasps of surprise!

It was a middle-aged man whose eyes held a trace of morbid fanaticism and dramatic tension.

Looking at PD outside the glass, far from showing any fear of being imprisoned, he looked as if he had laid eyes on some superb material. He slammed both hands against the bulletproof glass, staring intently at PD, and burst into a fit of theatrical laughter.

"Oh, oh, oh! This bewildered gaze! This unyielding posture despite being trapped in a cage! Truly magnificent, it is simply the perfect tragic opening!"

The middle-aged man spread his arms wide, as if standing in the center of the stage at the Globe Theatre, shouting aloud in an exaggerated, operatic tone:

"Welcome to this stage of villains, Master of Chaldea! I am Caster, William Shakespeare!"

"As you can see, I, a poor writer without the strength to truss a chicken, am being forcibly imprisoned here by that detestable mathematics professor, reduced to a heartless word-processing machine to summon 'Phantasms'!"