242: Chapter 242 Lin Chen saves the Forgotten Ones through lending money; the Inspector suddenly checks the accounts!

The death recording of Inspector 117 was automatically sent to Lin Chen's private terminal 17 minutes after the pale behemoth was destroyed.

In the video, this once-arrogant representative of the Administration Bureau was now curled up in a corner of the data stream, his body being consumed by a purer 'white'—that was not text, but 'total oblivion.'

"Lin Chen... listen to me..." 117's voice was intermittent, "The pale behemoth is only a... superficial symptom... the true Zeroing entity is... is..."

The screen shook violently.

Half of 117's face had already vanished, revealing the empty void beneath.

"It is 'silence'."

"When all stories are forgotten... when no one even remembers the concept of 'being forgotten'... the true Zeroing will descend..."

"That is a place... where even time does not exist..."

The recording stopped abruptly.

The final frame froze on the image of 117 completely disappearing.

Lin Chen stared at the screen, silent for five seconds.

Then he pulled up the real-time monitoring chart of the platform's back-end oblivion data—

The chart had billions of light points, each representing a story currently being serialized.

The brightness of 37% of those points was slowly dimming.

This meant that more than one-third of the stories were losing readers.

At the current rate, in three months, these stories would reach the threshold of 'zero daily active readers' and fall into the Oblivion Graveyard.

At that time, new pale behemoths would be reborn on a scale a hundred times larger.

"So," Lin Chen closed the recording, "destroying the behemoths treats the symptoms but not the root cause. We must stop the stories from being forgotten at the source."

He looked at the head of the newly formed [Forgotten Care Department]—a former protagonist scouted from a dying work, named Chen Mo.

"Your proposal?" Lin Chen asked.

Chen Mo pulled up the proposal: "I suggest launching the 'Classic Awakening Plan'—selecting one hundred finished but declining old works for animation, game adaptations, and crossover marketing. It's estimated to increase their reader activity by 300%."

"Budget?"

"Ten trillion dimension points."

"Too low." Lin Chen shook his head, "I don't want to awaken a hundred works; I want to ensure all stories are not forgotten."

Chen Mo was stunned: "Then... how much budget would that require?"

Lin Chen didn't answer, but instead pulled up the platform's financial data.

Total revenue from the recent doomsday live stream: one hundred quadrillion dimension points.

After deducting costs, shares, and bond redemptions, the net income was about thirty-eight hundred trillion.

He allocated three thousand trillion of it into a newly established sub-account.

Account name: [Story Immortality Fund].

"From now on," Lin Chen announced, "whenever the daily active reader count of any work falls below one thousand, the 'Relief Program' will be automatically triggered."

"Relief Program?"

"Yes." Lin Chen created a new rule, "The system will send a questionnaire to the remaining readers of that work: Are you willing to pay to keep this story in existence? If so, please choose 'micro-subscription' or 'one-time tip'."

"What if the readers aren't willing to pay?"

"Then the fund will provide a backstop." Lin Chen clicked on the backstop clauses, "The fund will inject the minimum energy required to maintain its existence in the form of an 'interest-free loan,' while gaining priority sharing rights to the work's future income."

Chen Mo's eyes lit up: "This means... we're using loans to buy the debt rights of dying works?"

"More accurately," Lin Chen smiled, "we've become the 'Memory Bank' for all stories. The stories borrow from us to extend their lives and repay the loans with future income. If there's no future income—then we use the copyrights to settle the debt."

"But if a large number of stories are dying at the same time, will the fund be enough?"

"That's why we need leverage." Lin Chen pulled up the financial operation interface, "I will issue bonds using the expected income of the 'Story Immortality Fund' as collateral to raise funds from the entire universe."

He quickly designed the bond product:

[Product Name: Memory Perpetual Bond]

[Term: Perpetual (Transferable)]

[Interest Rate: 5% per annum, floating based on total story revenue]

[Collateral: All story copyrights held by the fund]

[Special Terms: Bondholders can vote to decide which stories to save as a priority]

Three minutes after the product went online, subscriptions exceeded one hundred trillion.

"See," Lin Chen said to Chen Mo, "it's not that we lack money, it's that we lack a good story—and 'saving all stories' itself is a good story that investors will pay for."

The operation continued.

Over the next six hours, Lin Chen completed three things:

First, he injected the entire thirty-eight hundred trillion net income into the fund, which, combined with the funds raised from the bonds, brought the total fund size to ten quadrillion dimension points.

Second, he modified the platform's algorithm so that before a dying work triggers relief, it first pushes 'last-ditch retention' personalized content to readers—such as the protagonist suddenly breaking the fourth wall and saying directly to the reader: 'Please don't go, I still want to live.'

Third, he established the 'Oblivion Warning Department,' led by Zhang Hao, using AI to predict in real-time which works were about to fall into the oblivion line and intervene in advance.

Everything was ready.

Lin Chen pressed the start button.

The [Story Immortality Fund] officially began operation.

The first work to be rescued was a niche novel called i open a supermarket in the apocalypse—its daily active readers had dropped to eight hundred, and the Author hadn't updated for three months.

The system automatically detected it and triggered relief.

The remaining eight hundred readers received a prompt:

[The work you are reading is on the verge of being forgotten]

[Are you willing to pay 10 dimension points to extend its life for 24 hours?]

[Yes/No]

78% of the readers chose 'Yes.'

Six thousand four hundred dimension points were credited.

Simultaneously, the fund backstop injected thirty-six thousand dimension points—this was the minimum cost to maintain the story's existence for 24 hours.

The Author's back-end received a notification at the same time:

[Your work has received relief from the 'Story Immortality Fund']

[Relief Amount: 36,000 dimension points (interest-free loan)]

[Terms: After you resume updates, 30% of the work's income will be used to repay the loan until it is cleared]

[If updates are not resumed within 30 days, the system will automatically generate an AI continuation, and the copyright will belong to the fund]

The Author, who had been idle for three months, received this message in the middle of the night.

He looked at the sudden influx of funds in the back-end and the protagonist of i open a supermarket in the apocalypse—the character he once loved but wanted to give up on because the data was too poor.

After ten minutes of silence, he opened the document and typed a new chapter:

"A box of expired instant noodles suddenly appeared on the supermarket shelf. Lin Bei knew his golden finger had finally arrived—though it was a bit late, it was better than nothing."

The update was published.

Twenty-four hours later, the daily active readers of i open a supermarket in the apocalypse rose back to three thousand.

Though still very few, it was at least away from the death line.

The first successful case.

Lin Chen looked at the data and said to Arrogant Dragon, "See, this is the magic of commerce—using money to buy the right for all stories to live on."

Arrogant Dragon frowned, however: "But have you considered, if all stories rely on loans to survive, what if they can't pay it back in the end?"

"Then we restructure the debt," Lin Chen said nonchalantly. "Package the stories that can't pay back into 'distressed asset bundles' and sell them at a discount to audiences who like collecting tragedies. Or, transform them into 'Thriller Experience Halls'—pay to enter and personally experience how a story dies in oblivion."

"...You're truly ruthless."

"If I'm not ruthless, how can we survive in the Zeroing?"

As they spoke, the alarm sounded again.

This time it wasn't an oblivion warning.

It was a surprise inspection notice from the [Cosmic Financial Regulatory Bureau].

"Them again?" Arrogant Dragon's face darkened, "Wasn't the debt crisis resolved last time?"

"This time is different." Lin Chen looked at the notice content, "They are accusing us of 'illegal fundraising,' 'irregular financial market operations,' and 'suspected money laundering'."

Specific evidence was attached at the end of the notice:

Evidence 1: Lin Chen's issuance of 'Memory Perpetual Bonds' was not registered with the Regulatory Bureau.

Evidence 2: The operation of the Story Immortality Fund is suspected of being a 'Ponzi scheme'—using new debt to pay off old debt, which will eventually collapse.

Evidence 3: The valuation of the story copyrights held by the fund is inflated, suggesting financial fraud.

"And," Lin Chen noted the most lethal point, "the one leading the team this time is the Deputy Director of the Regulatory Bureau, the man known as the 'Iron-Faced Judge,' Iron-Faced Judge."

"Is he very powerful?"

"The conviction rate for financial cases he handles is 100%." Lin Chen pulled up Iron-Faced Judge's profile, "He's best at finding flaws in accounting details. And—he's different from those investigators we bribed before; this man is incorruptible."

Before he could finish speaking.

The conference room door was pushed open.

Three people wearing black uniforms with golden scales badges embroidered on their chests walked in.

The middle-aged man in the lead had a cold face and eyes like knives.

It was Iron-Faced Judge.

"Chairman Lin Chen," his voice was flat, "I have been ordered to conduct a thorough investigation of the Epoch Management Group and all its subsidiaries. This is a search warrant."

He unfurled a holographic document stamped with the seal of the Cosmic Supreme Court.

"From now on, all accounts of The Group are frozen, all business is suspended, and no executives are allowed to leave the territory."

"You have the right to remain silent, but all your data records will be used as evidence."

The two agents behind Iron-Faced Judge immediately began their operation—the equipment they carried connected directly to The Group's core database and began copying all financial records.

"Wait." Lin Chen raised his hand, "Director Iron-Faced Judge, may I ask a question?"

"Speak."

"Who reported us?"

Iron-Faced Judge glanced at him and uttered two words:

"Arrogant Dragon."

The room went dead silent.

Arrogant Dragon suddenly stood up: "You're lying!"

"I have evidence." Iron-Faced Judge pulled up an encrypted communication record, "Three days ago, you sent detailed materials regarding Lin Chen's irregular operations to the Regulatory Bureau's anonymous reporting email. The sending IP address was your private terminal."

The record showed it clearly.

Sender ID: Arrogant Dragon_Immortal Emperor Reincarnated.

Content: Including all details of Lin Chen's hidden debts, irregular bond issuances, and financial fraud.

There was even that sentence Lin Chen said privately: "If all stories can't pay back their loans, transform them into Thriller Experience Halls."

"I didn't send that!" Arrogant Dragon's face turned ashen, "My terminal was lost three days ago, I thought it was an accident—"

"If the terminal was lost, why could it still be unlocked and used to send messages with your biometric password?" Iron-Faced Judge countered.

Arrogant Dragon was speechless.

Lin Chen, however, smiled.

"Director Iron-Faced Judge," he looked at Iron-Faced Judge, "can I see the complete data packet of that communication record? Including the terminal hardware code at the time of sending, the network routing path, and—" he paused, "the sender's real-time brainwave verification records."

Iron-Faced Judge frowned: "What do you want those for?"

"Because Arrogant Dragon's terminal wasn't lost three days ago." Lin Chen pulled up a security record, "It was stolen—the thief was The Group's former Security Chief, who copied all of Arrogant Dragon's biometric information before resigning."

He zoomed in on the record: "And where did this former chief go after resigning?"

The scene switched.

The former chief appeared in a café, and the person sitting opposite him—

Was Inspector 117.

Timestamp: 2 hours before the pale behemoth was destroyed.

"So," Lin Chen looked at Iron-Faced Judge, "the reporting materials weren't sent by Arrogant Dragon, but were forged by the 'dead' 117 using the stolen terminal. And his purpose for doing so—"

He pulled up the final piece of data:

"Was to buy time for the true Zeroing entity, 'silence'."

On the data chart, during these five minutes since the Regulatory Bureau's surprise inspection began—

The oblivion speed of all dying stories on the platform had increased a hundredfold.

At this moment, seventy-six stories had simultaneously fallen below the threshold of one thousand daily active readers.

And the Story Immortality Fund, because its account was frozen, could not trigger relief.

They were falling toward oblivion.

At a speed visible to the naked eye.

Iron-Faced Judge looked at the data, and his expression finally changed.

"What are you saying... Zeroing entity?"

"Director Iron-Faced Judge," Lin Chen stood up, "you have two choices now."

"One, continue to audit my accounts, watch all the stories here die out, and then wait for 'silence' to consume the entire Narrative Layer—at which point, even the Regulatory Bureau will not exist."

"Two, temporarily lift the freeze and let me use the fund to save those stories. Once the crisis is over, I will cooperate with your audit, right to the end."

Iron-Faced Judge stared intently at Lin Chen.

Then he looked at the light points that were rapidly dimming.

Finally, he gritted his teeth.

"Account freeze lifted for 24 hours."

"In 24 hours, if I don't see results—"

"I will personally send you to the Cosmic Prison."

Lin Chen smiled.

"That's enough."

He sat back at the console and, in the first second the account was unfrozen, launched the Global Relief Program.

Seventy-six dying stories received funding simultaneously.

And at that very moment—

Lin Chen saw 'that thing' deep within the data stream.

It wasn't a pale behemoth.

It was a patch of...

An 'emptiness' where even 'nothingness' does not exist.

It was slowly rising from the deepest part of oblivion.

And the first target it set its sights on was—

"dimension shareholder."