94: Chapter 94 Zero Casualties vs. 1.71 Million: Who's Slapping Whom in the Face?

Lighthouse Country, the lights in the conference room were humming.

Six people sat on both sides of the long table, their expressions so gloomy they could wring water out of them.

Three documents were spread out on the table.

The first: The Santa Monica Beach on-site investigation report.

The second: A summary of the testimonies from 327 survivors.

The third: Satellite thermal imaging reconstruction map.

On the map, three huge residual heat source traces appeared on the Santa Monica coastline.

In the column for peak temperature readings, only a line of cold text was written: "Exceeded sensor range."

The Secretary of Defense flipped the thermal imaging map over and slammed it heavily onto the table.

Out of sight, out of mind.

"Speak."

The intelligence officer cleared his throat, his voice dry.

"According to the on-site investigation and cross-referencing of survivor accounts... yesterday evening, an anomaly appeared in the sky, followed by three unidentified biological entities that launched indiscriminate attacks on civilians, lasting about forty minutes."

He turned a page.

"Subsequently, three individuals of unknown identity appeared at the scene."

"One of them was wearing silver-white full-body armor, with an emblem of flames and stars on the chest."

"This individual used a cold weapon... a long sword, releasing a large-scale energy wave that eliminated the three creatures in one strike, while simultaneously splitting the coastal sea surface for hundreds of meters."

"Afterwards, the three disappeared."

He closed the file.

In the conference room, you could hear a pin drop.

The Secretary of Defense stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound.

"Monsters? Paladins?"

He braced himself against the edge of the table, veins bulging on the back of his hands.

"I would rather believe that these three hundred people collectively hallucinated! Mass mental trauma caused by extreme fear of disaster!"

No one replied.

"Even if we take a step back, even if it wasn't a hallucination."

He took a deep breath, his eyes becoming dangerous and sharp.

"Then it was a weapon demonstration by China!"

The intelligence officer opened his mouth but didn't dare to make a sound.

"What earthquakes, what monsters, they were all created by them! Those three so-called 'transcendent humans' are their latest exoskeleton mechs!"

"They deliberately created the disaster, then sent people to 'save' the day to show their power to the whole world! This is intimidation! It is naked military blackmail!"

He pointed to the copy of the early warning email from two weeks ago on the table.

"This email is the best evidence! Only the creator can predict it in advance!"

The intelligence officer lowered his head.

This logical loophole was big enough to drive an aircraft carrier through.

But he didn't dare say it.

Because the truth was more terrifying than the conspiracy theory!

If they were truly "monsters," it meant that human conventional weapon systems were completely ineffective.

And Lighthouse Country hadn't even sent out a single evacuation text message.

"Now."

The Secretary of Defense's voice dropped half a degree, falling into a dangerous calm.

"How do we suppress public opinion? How do we reverse the image of government inaction? How do we—cast this all away?"

At the end of the table, the White House Press Secretary spoke, their voice very soft.

"First, announce it as a sudden geological disaster, a natural disaster, force majeure, and post-disaster reconstruction will be funded by the federal government."

"What about the death toll?"

The spokesperson tapped their fingers on the table twice.

"...Fuzzy processing."

The statement was released forty minutes later.

Black text on a white background, claiming to be "deeply saddened by the sudden geological disaster on the West Coast and will fully carry out search and rescue and post-disaster reconstruction."

No mention of monsters.

No mention of China's warning.

No mention of the death toll.

The citizens didn't buy it.

Twitter's comment section flooded with eight million comments within fifteen minutes.

"China told you two weeks ago! What did you do!?"

"My son is in Santa Monica! I still can't reach him! The official statement tells me it's a 'geological disaster'!?"

"Zero casualties vs. corpses everywhere! This is the gap! This is the outcome of the 'farce' you mocked for two weeks!"

Someone cross-edited footage of China's entire fourteen-day evacuation process with the ruins of the West Coast.

Private cars giving free rides to the station — unmanned vehicles stuck on the highway.

The aunt in an apron holding a sign to pick up people — that pink bow children's shoe on the beach.

The cheers of 1.4 billion people at zero hour — Jason's frozen face before the live broadcast was interrupted.

This video was played 3.7 billion times in six hours.

Lighthouse Country officials tried to suppress the survivors' testimonies.

The military sealed off Santa Monica, and all survivors were gathered in temporary camps, forbidden from accepting any interviews.

But an independent journalist named Emily still managed to interview a survivor through special channels and published the content on her personal blog.

In the article, she described in detail the doomsday scene in the words of the survivor, as well as the three figures who descended like gods.

"...They called her a 'Paladin,' a woman wearing silver-white armor with a totem of flames holding up stars engraved on her chest. She used a glowing sword to split the sea and eliminate the monsters..."

"But most psychologists believe that this is a collective hallucination caused by typical 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.' Survivors, in extreme despair, fantasized about the existence of a savior."

At the end of the article, Emily wrote:

"Officials said the death toll is 'being counted,' so I counted it for them."

"Just along Santa Monica Beach and Palm Avenue, the remains and belongings I personally confirmed are at least 1.71 million."

"This does not include those swept away by the sea, those corroded beyond recognition by black fog, and those shoes and school bags that will never be claimed by anyone."

The blog was viewed 90 million times in two hours.

The server crashed three times.

There was no mockery in the comment section.

"1.71 million..."

"I don't believe in monsters and knights. But I believe in that number. 471."

"Two weeks ago China said it and we laughed, now 471 people are dead, who should be responsible?"

Most people didn't believe in monsters and Paladins.

Collective hallucination caused by PTSD was the most mainstream explanation.

But no one dared to mock that number.

China.

The sentiment on the internet, from the pleasure of being vindicated, went through silence, and finally settled into something deeper.

The top Weibo comment had two million likes.

"I don't dare to think, I really don't dare to think. If our officials had also chosen to ignore it—Hangzhou's 13 million people would be the second Santa Monica."

The second top comment had 1.7 million likes.

"I have no regrets entering China in this life."

The third top comment was very long, written by a Hangzhou resident.

"When we were evacuated, some people complained about the trouble. Now seeing the footage on the other side, I just want to say—thank you."

"Thank you to the high-speed rail attendant Xiao Zhou, thank you to the bus driver Old Sun, thank you to Master Old Zhang who hammered track spikes for a day in the Fuyang Section,"

"Thank you to every traffic police officer who stood at the intersection for fourteen days. You saved the lives of our 13 million people."

Jingzhou, Torch Base.

Su Chen sat on the stone steps of the altar, with his notebook spread on his knees.

The system panel hung quietly in the corner of his vision.

"Current Points: 16,000"

"Current Authenticity: 8,400 / 10,000"

"E-Rank Exotic Beast Crystal: 9"

"System Level: LV2"

"Upgrade Condition: Authenticity reaches 10,000 → Unlock LV3"

He was still 1,600 points of authenticity away from reaching level three.

Su Chen's pen tip drew a table on the paper.

"Current combat configuration—"

"Su Chen: Tier 3: Fire-Bearer. Core output / Ultimate trump card."

"Liu Yuyan: Tier 2 Paladin. Melee main force / Shield."

"Lin Xiaoman: Tier 1 Mechanical Ascension. Intelligence / Support / Containment."

"Henry: Tier 1 Holy Healing Apostle. Medical / Support / Tank."

He drew an upward arrow next to both Lin Xiaoman and Henry's names.

Tier 2 upgrade cost, 3,000 each.

6,000 for both.

This investment had to be made.

He flipped to a new page and wrote down two names.

"Section Chief Han Zheng."

The pen tip paused for a second, then drew an X.

No.

A perfect tool person should stay in the most convenient toolbox.

His position in The Seventh Division was more valuable than becoming a member of Kindling.

"Wang Hao."

Another X.

His value was the "Kindling Descendant" script itself, a walking live advertisement and relic trigger.

His combat power was far less important than his symbolic significance.

But it wasn't the time yet, he still needed an opportunity, an opportunity for real change.

He believed it would come soon.

Su Chen leaned back on the stone steps, the back of his head resting on the cold stone bricks.

Four people.

Barely enough to guard one city.

Guard two? Three? Ten?

The catastrophe in three years, the whole world falls simultaneously.

Not enough.

Far from enough.

"Need new people."

Su Chen muttered to himself, his gaze passing through the golden dome of the base, casting toward the endless void.

"At least three, with practical combat foundations, not bound by existing forces, and with an opportunity to 'be changed'..."