96: Chapter 96 They're making a movie

Chen You looked at Hill’s standard professional smile and felt a wave of nausea.

"That Mysterious Merchant..." he pressed, "When will he appear? Are the things he sells genuine?"

"When the threads of fate intertwine, he will naturally appear."

Hill’s answer was cryptic, as good as saying nothing.

Chen You finally understood.

This was an NPC with an unpredictable refresh time and an unknown location; getting anxious was useless.

"Fine then."

He waved his hand, too lazy to ask further.

Recalling when he was shopping in the city earlier, he had no impression of any Mysterious Merchant.

Wait...

Chen You suddenly had an idea.

"I should log off first to report this."

...Meanwhile, on the other side of the real world.

The United States, The Pentagon.

Inside the conference room, the atmosphere was oppressively stagnant.

Cigar smoke swirled without dissipating, mixing with the rich bitterness of coffee.

President George stood with his back to everyone, hands braced against the massive curved floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the distant obelisk; his figure appeared exceptionally desolate.

Behind him, on the long conference table, lay only a satellite image magnified countless times.

The core of the image was a majestic mountain range shrouded in thick fog.

And deep within those rugged, desolate Qinling Mountains, a magnificent city carved as if from white jade stood silently.

The city walls soared into the clouds, pavilions and towers exuded an ethereal mist, full of the charm of ancient Eastern mythology.

"Gentlemen."

George finally turned around. Beneath his deep-set eyes were heavy dark circles, and his voice was hoarse and weary.

"Can anyone tell me what exactly this thing is?"

The conference room fell into a dead silence.

Secretary of Defense Holman, the Director of the CIA, the National Security Advisor...

All the major figures who could make the world tremble with a stomp were collectively silent, like primary school students being questioned by a teacher.

Just then, the conference room door was gently knocked.

The President’s Chief Secretary walked in, his face pale. He held a freshly printed document, the paper still seemingly warm.

"Mr. President," the Secretary’s voice was somewhat dry.

"The Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs has just given us the official response to our inquiry."

George’s gaze instantly sharpened, "Speak!"

The Secretary took a deep breath and spoke with difficulty, word by word:

"They said... that place is China's newly planned 'Kunlun Myth' themed film city."

"They are currently shooting a large-scale epic mythological drama, and to prevent spoilers, the area has been cordoned off."

"Pfft—"

Someone couldn't help it and spat out a mouthful of coffee.

The entire conference room instantly fell into an eerie silence, followed by a low, suppressed murmur of discussion.

Film city? Filming a movie?

You call that a film city?!

What production crew could build such a ghost city out of thin air in the Qinling Mountains?

God's production crew?!

This was practically rubbing their intelligence into the ground!

"Ha... Haha..."

George suddenly began to laugh softly, the laughter growing louder until it turned into a near-crazed roar.

He snatched the satellite map from the table, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it to the ground!

"Fuck!"

"They are humiliating us! They know we are watching, and they are using this method to openly humiliate us!"

The last time, phantom fighter jets circled the USS Reagan like ghosts, turning the most advanced radar into scrap metal.

This time, it was the mythical city emerging from the depths of the Qinling Mountains, met with the contemptuous reply, 'We are filming a movie.'

The successive setbacks made the helmsman of the world's number one superpower feel an unprecedented sense of defeat and terror.

He feared not the city itself, but the unknown power it represented—a power they could neither comprehend nor control!

Secretary of Defense Holman coughed heavily, breaking the suffocating atmosphere.

He stood up and distributed a new file to everyone.

"Mr. President, gentlemen, perhaps... we should look at this."

Holman’s expression was extremely grave.

"According to our latest intelligence, before that city appeared..."

"The Chinese military, some educational institutions, and even some civilian organizations have been promoting a certain type of... calisthenics with extremely high efficiency."

"Calisthenics?" George frowned, slightly calming down from his rage.

"Yes, a very strange set of broadcast exercises."

Holman pressed the remote control, and the large screen on the wall lit up.

In the picture, thousands of Chinese soldiers in uniform were performing a set of slow-moving, expansive exercises on the training ground.

Those movements did not resemble any known martial art or training method.

Sometimes like a crane spreading its wings, sometimes like an ancient ape stretching its arms, filled with an indescribable sense of rhythm and... antiquity.

The scene switched, showing the practice of this set of movements, which looked like calisthenics, from the army to the schools.

"Our linguists and behavioral analysis experts have conducted preliminary research," Holman said in a deep voice.

"They believe that the commands for these exercises... are less like exercise instructions and more like... a form of spiritual guidance, or perhaps, a meditation mantra."

"Focusing intent on the Dantian," "Sinking Qi to Yongquan," "Circulating energy through the heavenly cycle"...

Holman read out a few translated phrases. The people in the conference room exchanged glances, their faces filled with bewilderment.

What in the world was all this?

"The CIA's psychological assessment report suggests this is a form of collective spiritual therapy adopted by the Chinese authorities after suffering significant external pressure."

"It aims to enhance national cohesion and self-confidence,"

An intelligence director added.

"Nonsense!" George slammed the table and growled.

"Spiritual therapy? I think *we* need spiritual therapy!"

He stared fixedly at the slow movements on the screen, then looked at the crumpled satellite map on the floor.

An absurd thought that nevertheless sent a chill down his spine emerged uncontrollably.

Could these two matters... be connected?

A fairyland city rising from the ground in reality.

Mysterious 'calisthenics' promoted among millions.

Was there some cause-and-effect relationship between them that they could not understand?

"Holman," George’s voice was hoarse as he pointed at the screen with his finger.

"I want to know everything about these exercises! The details of every movement, the original pronunciation of every command!"

"I want our biology labs to immediately organize live subjects to imitate them and monitor all physiological data 24 hours a day!"

"And!" He turned to the Director of the CIA.

"Dispatch our top-tier agents, at any cost, to infiltrate the Qinling area!"

"I want living people standing beneath the walls of that 'film city' to tell me what it really is!"

"Mr. President, the defense level there..."

"I don't care!" George interrupted roughly.

"This is the highest priority order! If conventional means fail, then use unconventional means!"

"I must know what card they are holding!"

The atmosphere in the conference room dropped back to freezing point.

Everyone understood the President's intention.

A secret war centered around the 'White Jade Capital' and the 'Mysterious Calisthenics' was about to erupt.

George slumped back into his chair, running his hands through his graying hair, his eyes bloodshot.

"Gentlemen," he muttered, as if asking himself, yet also asking everyone present.

"Have they... found a way to speak with 'God'?"