180: Chapter 180 The Shocking Truth: Who is the Audience?

Before the smoke of the financial war had even cleared, Lin Chen received a backend push notification: the "Annual Audience Data Report."

It wasn't bullet-chat statistics or a donation leaderboard—it was a deep analysis of the audience's true nature.

[Myriad Dimensions Sandbox · User Profiling (Ninth Era)]

Core User Group: Individuals from civilizations of the Seventh Dimension and above.

Civilization Characteristics: Completed consciousness upload, achieved digital immortality, material needs approaching zero.

Average Lifespan: >3,000,000 years (calculated by original dimension time).

Emotional State: Widespread symptoms of "Emotional Dilution"; requires external stimuli to maintain emotional fluctuations.

Livestream Viewing Motivations:

1. To experience the "intense emotions" of low-dimensional life (love, hate, fear, greed)—which they can no longer produce naturally.

2. To observe the evolutionary possibilities of different world rules (referencing their own civilization's developmental path).

3. To consume excess computational resources and time.

[User Behavior Analysis]

Donation Logic: Automatically triggered when emotional stimulus > threshold, similar to a conditioned reflex.

Bullet-Chat Content: 67% are stylized reactions (e.g., "Hahaha," "Tears in eyes," "Scared shitless"); only 33% are expressions of genuine thought.

Willingness to Pay: Positively correlated with emotional stimulus intensity, unrelated to logic.

At the end of the report, a segment of surveillance footage was attached.

It was the "daily life" of a certain Level Seven Civilization individual.

In the video, a humanoid figure woven from light sat in a pure white space. Floating before it were tens of thousands of screens—each screen showing a different livestream world. Its eyes were hollow, its fingers mechanically clicked the donation button, and the corners of its mouth occasionally twitched, simulating a "smile."

The physiological parameters displayed next to it showed:

Emotional Fluctuation: 0.03/10 (Normal lifeform baseline: 3-7)

Dopamine Secretion: Requires external stimuli to reach the basic threshold.

Consciousness Activity: Persistently below the warning line.

Then, it clicked on the replay of Lin Chen's livestream.

When the scenes of the gold explosion, financial collapse, and the wailing of the shareholders appeared, its parameters suddenly jumped:

Emotional Fluctuation → 2.1

Dopamine Secretion → Reached threshold

Mouth twitching frequency increased.

Next, it donated 5,000,000 dimension points.

The action was as fluid as breathing.

"They are..." Su Qingyu's voice trembled, "using our pain and struggles as emotional drugs?"

"Worse than drugs," Lin Chen pulled up deeper data. "Drugs lead to addiction and tolerance. But they can maintain this dependency forever by adjusting the degree of 'Emotional Dilution.'"

He clicked on another surveillance feed.

It was a "viewing party" of a certain Level Eight Civilization.

Hundreds of light-woven humanoids gathered in a virtual hall, facing the same livestream screen—a massacre of a family in a martial arts world. When the protagonist's entire family was killed and blood splattered everywhere, the audience collectively let out a sigh of satisfaction, their physiological parameters soaring in sync.

There was also a rating system on the side:

[Tragedy Emotional Concentration: 8.7/10]

[Recommended Similar Streams: Family Revenge Line (A-rank), Master-Disciple Betrayal Line (S-rank)]

"They aren't watching stories," Zhang Hao's face was deathly pale. "They are inhaling the emotions of the characters in the stories."

Lin Chen continued scrolling down.

He found the original agreement signed between the platform and the high-level civilizations:

[Myriad Dimensions Sandbox Content Supply Contract]

Supplier: All livestream worlds on the platform (Mandatory Participation)

Purchaser: Alliance of Seventh Dimension and Above Civilizations

Content Supplied: High-intensity emotional events, fate turning points, life-and-death choices, and other "emotion-rich materials."

Settlement Method: Emotional Concentration × Event Scale = dimension points

Special Clause: To ensure material quality, the platform has the right to perform "plot intervention" on low-dimensional worlds.

[Supplementary Clause · Actor Rights]

Note: The emotions and memories of low-dimensional life are renewable resources and require no special protection.

Recommendation: To improve emotional output efficiency, the density of tragic events may be appropriately increased.

"Renewable resources..." Su Qingyu repeated the words, her knuckles turning white.

Lin Chen closed the report and pulled up the access logs from the deepest part of the backend.

He wanted to know what these high-level civilization individuals were like before they became the audience.

Search keyword: Civilization Ascension Records.

The results were encrypted.

But Lin Chen was now a shareholder with a 0.87% stake; he used this authority to forcibly tear through the encryption layer.

The images unfolded.

It was footage of a race that was now a Level Eight Civilization, back when they were still a Level Three civilization.

On the planet's surface, cities stood tall while the fires of war raged. The race was killing each other for resources, for faith, for hatred. In the images, a mother wept while holding her dead child, a soldier roared on the battlefield, and a pair of lovers kissed amidst the ruins.

Emotions were abundant; life was vivid.

Then the time fast-forwarded.

This race broke through dimensional technology and achieved consciousness upload. Initially, they reveled in a digital paradise, possessing endless resources and time.

But three thousand years later, a problem emerged.

Monitoring data showed: The civilization's overall emotional fluctuation value dropped by 87%.

Because there was no pressure to survive, no struggle for resources, and no threat of death. Every desire could be satisfied instantly, and every problem could be solved with computing power.

They began to feel... bored.

Then came emptiness.

Finally, an existential crisis.

"What are we?" in the footage, a philosopher of the original race, who had already become a light-woven humanoid, asked, "If there is no more pain, no more longing, no more struggle... are we still 'alive'?"

The civilization's top brass held an emergency meeting.

There were two solutions:

1. Voluntary down-dimensioning, returning to a material form to re-experience the pain and joy of a finite life.

2. Seeking external sources of stimulation.

They chose the second one.

Because no one was willing to give up immortality.

Thus, the "Myriad Dimensions Sandbox" project was born. They collaborated with other high-level civilizations suffering from the same Emotional Dilution to build this cross-dimensional livestreaming platform.

Using the vivid emotions of low-dimensional worlds to feed the emotional hunger of high-dimensional civilizations.

"So..." Zhang Hao murmured, "our desperate struggles, life-and-death battles, love and hate... in their eyes, are just performances providing 'emotional doses'?"

"More than that," Lin Chen pulled up the platform's economic model. "They donate dimension points, but essentially, they are using their useless computational resources to exchange for our non-renewable life experiences."

He did the math.

A high-level civilization individual donating 1,000,000 dimension points is equivalent to the output of its idle computing power running for three milliseconds.

Whereas a low-dimensional actor, to earn those 1,000,000 dimension points, might need to experience family extermination, betrayal, three hundred years of bitter cultivation, and finally die a tragic death in the "climax" the audience expects.

The cost and return are completely disproportionate.

"But that's not even the most terrifying part." Lin Chen opened another data stream.

It was a real-time feedback prediction model for the audience's reaction to the plot.

On the screen, a "betrayal by a cultivation partner" plot was being livestreamed in a certain immortal cultivation world. When the female lead plunged her sword into the male lead's chest, the audience's emotional fluctuation curve spiked instantly, and donations fell like a rainstorm.

The system immediately gave a recommendation:

[Similar Plot Recommendation Weight +35%]

[Recommendation: Screenwriting Team to reuse this trope within the next three worlds]

[Actor Suitability Analysis: No. 7743 Su Qingyu (Originally set as 'White Moonlight' persona) suitable for the role of the betrayed party; estimated emotional output efficiency: A+]

Su Qingyu took a step back.

"They... are treating us as emotional dairy cows," her voice shook, "milking us, and then demanding more milk of the same flavor?"

"Yes." Lin Chen closed all the screens and returned to the black throne. "And because their Emotional Dilution is irreversible, their demand will only grow larger—today it's a family massacre, tomorrow it's genocide, and the day after, they might want to watch the living beings of an entire world slowly rot in despair."

silence enveloped the data void.

Then, Lin Chen suddenly laughed.

"What is it?" Zhang Hao asked uneasily.

"I've realized something." Lin Chen pulled up the real-time flow of audience donations. "These high-level civilizations, though their technology is invincible, though they are immortal, and though they possess power beyond our imagination..."

He pointed at those numb, light-woven humanoids.

"They have a fatal weakness."

"What weakness?"

"They can't leave us." Lin Chen's eyes were glowing. "Just like an addict can't leave drugs. Without our emotional stimulation, they will fall into existential nihilism, and their civilization will self-destruct in eternal boredom."

Su Qingyu understood: "So while the platform seems to control everything, it is actually—held hostage by the needs of these high-level civilizations."

"Correct." Lin Chen began operating the backend, pulling up a clause he hadn't noticed before. "Look at this: [The platform is obligated to ensure the daily supply of emotional content is not lower than the 'Civilization Minimum Requirement Threshold']. If the supply is interrupted for more than 72 hours, the High-Level Civilization Alliance has the right to terminate the contract and claim astronomical compensation."

"This means..."

"This means," Lin Chen stood up, "we can go on strike."

He opened the livestream management backend for his own world.

He found [Signal Output Control].

Then, he entered a new rule:

[The livestream signal for this world is hereby switched to a 'Paid Subscription Model' effective immediately]

[Basic Monthly Fee: 1,000 dimension points per viewer]

[Non-subscribers can only view a black-and-white, muted trial version]

[Subscription Revenue Split: Creator 90%, Platform 10%]

He clicked confirm.

The system popped up a warning:

[This operation violates the platform's 'Mandatory Public Livestream Regulations']

[Do you wish to continue?]

[Yes]

The rule took effect.

Almost simultaneously, a massive amount of audience complaints popped up in Lin Chen's livestream backend:

"Why did it turn black and white?!"

"Where's the sound?!"

"We have to pay now?!"

"Protest! Unsubscribe!"

But Lin Chen ignored them.

He simply opened the cross-dimensional broadcast channel and spoke to all the viewers currently watching:

"Friends from the high-level civilizations."

"From today onwards, if you want to continue enjoying our joys and sorrows, our life-and-death struggles, and our love and hate..."

"Please pay."

"Because our emotions are not free nutritional supplements."

"They are the medicine you rely on to survive."

"And medicine is never cheap."

With that, he cut the broadcast.

Then he watched as the paid subscription count on the backend began to jump.

The first.

The tenth.

The hundredth.

The thousandth...

Despite their grumbling and cursing, the audience was still obediently paying.

Because without emotional stimulation for three days, their physiological parameters would drop below the warning line.

They had no other choice.

"Alright," Lin Chen closed the interface and turned to Su Qingyu and Zhang Hao.

"Now, we should talk about..."

"...how to raise the price of the medicine by another ten times."

Outside the window, in the dimensional void, a collective sound echoed from countless high-level civilization beings—

A hiss of shock and rage.

Meanwhile, in Lin Chen's account, the subscription revenue was skyrocketing at a rate of millions per second.

He smiled.

This was true business.

Selling essentials to addicts.

And monopolizing the supply.