21: Chapter 21 Various Opinions

By now, the group chat had already exploded once—from shock to self-persuasion, and then to collectively treating the truth like a joke for revelry; the entire process took less than three minutes.

The corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Qin Feifei's pinned message was still floating at the very top: "@Yang Hang, the number one tycoon, mighty!" Below it was his own reply; that joke, "I know, you may withdraw," had successfully steered the conversation off course.

Now the whole screen was filled with "hahahaha."

"If only Yang Hang were really the Lord of the Fate Altar."

"+10086."

Yang Hang put down his phone and leaned back into the chair. No one believed the truth—this was the best cover.

A group message popped up again. Qin Feifei's message surfaced, her tone carrying that characteristic sense of finality typical of a counselor: "Alright, there should be a bottom line to jokes... Merit is earned by oneself, not waited for."

People in the group started shouting "break it up, break it up" and "time to go fishing."

The messages gradually died down.

Yang Hang exited the alumni group interface and leaned back into the recliner again.

Most of the ice in the lemonade had melted, and a thin layer of mist condensed on the walls of the cup. He placed the cup on the armrest holder and closed his eyes.

As for his younger sister, she was skeptical but wouldn't make a scene for now.

As for the alumni group, he had easily defused it with a single trick: "telling the truth as if it were a lie."

As for the rest of the Yanhuang Civilization survivors, aside from those who had personal contact with him, there was no need to worry about exposing his identity at all.

With over 1.4 billion people, there were just too many people with the same name!

While the entire Fate Platform was going crazy over that nine-digit number at the top of the rankings, a few people shifted their gaze to second place.

On the Fate Platform, that nine-digit name hung there like a sun, so blinding that it was hard to open one's eyes.

But some people shifted their gaze elsewhere.

Second place, President Shen Qing. 610,000.

This number, in normal times, would be enough for anyone to achieve legendary status in one battle. Unfortunately, this batch had produced a monster, making 610,000 look like pocket money.

In the comments section, someone asked under President Shen Qing's post: "Is it the same name? She only posted two posts; how is this possible?"

When this comment was pushed to the top, President Shen Qing was also frowning as she browsed the rankings, staring at the incredible speed of the top spot.

First place. Yang Hang. 552,876,543.

Second place. President Shen Qing. 612,847.

She didn't bother to look at who was in third place.

Only one thought was spinning in her mind—550 million divided by 610,000, what does that equal?

She calculated it twice.

Nine hundred and six.

Nine hundred and six of her.

Nine hundred and six hit posts like hers. Nine hundred and six times the influence that resonated with hundreds of millions of people simultaneously. Nine hundred and six times the production efficiency.

Three days.

Impossible.

President Shen Qing shifted her gaze from the numbers to the sea. The setting sun was sinking, and the waves were dyed a flowing orange-red. She stared at that orange-red expanse for a long time, her gaze unfocused.

It wasn't posts. It wasn't teaming up. It wasn't hunting. It wasn't any known path.

Then there was only one answer left.

The Cause and Effect Fate Platform itself.

If this platform wasn't a standard feature of the System but was created by someone—then the merit the creator obtained from it should be directly proportional to the scale of the platform's operation.

1.3 billion users. Each person consumes one karmic point every day to maintain access. Even if only a tiny fraction is taken as a cut...

Multiplied by 1.3 billion. Multiplied by three days.

550 million.

The number jumped out on its own, like an equation already written, just waiting for her to fill in that final multiplication sign.

"The Fate Platform has an owner."

She whispered it, as if confirming something. The sea breeze blew into the cabin, lifting the loose hair by her ears, but she didn't bother with it.

Strangely, this thought didn't bring fear, or even vigilance.

It was a very subtle feeling—like discovering that the building you live in actually has property management, and the building you thought was wild and abandoned actually has someone in charge.

But this wasn't important.

With the gap between 550 million and 610,000, she was probably just an ant in the other person's eyes; this could already be called the difference between a god and a human.

She continued to ponder.

If the top of the rankings was the Lord of the Fate Altar, then the fact that Yanhuang Civilization had the Fate Platform wasn't "good luck," but rather "someone is there."

Other factions didn't have this person, so they didn't have a Fate Platform.

Without a Fate Platform, there was no information exchange, no strategy sharing, no team collaboration, and no location-based rescue.

With 1.4 billion people in Tianzhu, their merit was 180 million.

1.4 billion people, three days, 180 million.

What did this mean?

It meant that the number of people who died over there in these three days was in the hundreds of millions.

And here in Yanhuang Civilization, relying on the posts on the Fate Platform, most people at least had water to drink and food to eat, and very few died.

This gap would only grow larger and larger.

President Shen Qing withdrew her gaze from the sea and landed it back on that name at the top of the rankings.

The corners of her mouth moved slightly.

Relief.

When this word emerged in her heart, she herself felt it was a bit strange. She wasn't the type of person who would feel relief. She was used to calculating accounts, calculating gains and losses, calculating pros and cons, and calculating which side she should stand on.

But this account didn't need to be calculated.

The gap between 550 million and 610,000 wasn't a distance; it was protection. It was an umbrella held up over the heads of 1.3 billion people.

She withdrew her thoughts and scrolled down the comments.

The debate was still ongoing. Some insisted that it was just the same name, while others insisted that the merit System had problems. But there were also a few reasonable ones:

["Her post helped hundreds of millions of people stabilize their mindset; doesn't that count as help? Merit recognizes actual influence, not the number of posts."]

President Shen Qing gave it a like.

Then she replied: "That might be the reason. Actually, I didn't do much, it was just a coincidence."

The tone was very calm. The sense of proportion was just right.

It could be considered an admission of her identity, but the attitude was handled just right, so as not to make people feel annoyed.

President Shen Qing scrolled through the Fate Platform posts for a while longer before exiting to reality and turning her gaze to the sunken sea treasure chest in front of her, which had just been reorganized and not yet opened.

She reached out her right hand, her fingertips resting on the edge of the chest lid.

The next moment—

Golden light exploded.

It wasn't the dark copper color of bronze, nor the cold, silvery white of silver. It was a pure, intense gold that almost set the entire cabin on fire.

The light gushed out from every groove of the chest, projecting dense golden runes onto the inner walls of the cabin. Even the sea surface outside the deck was illuminated with a faint golden halo, and the seawater for dozens of meters around seemed to have been plated with a thin layer of gold.

President Shen Qing's hand recoiled.

It wasn't out of fear. It was an instinctive need to steady herself—she crouched down, supporting herself on the deck with her right hand, while shielding her eyes with her left.

The light gradually receded.

The chest revealed its true appearance.

It was pitch black, its surface covered with golden patterns, and liquid-like light flowed within the patterns.

President Shen Qing's heart skipped a beat.

She took a deep breath, adjusting her breathing to a steady state. Reason told her to be calm, but her hand gripping the edge of the deck had white knuckles.

A line of text appeared in her field of vision.

["Congratulations on obtaining a Gold-tier sunken sea treasure chest!"]