104: Chapter 104 Under the Lockdown Order, He Turns the Tables and Earns Millions

The President looked up, his gaze sweeping from the Secretary of Defense at the far left of the curved table to the Director of Intelligence at the far right, passing over every face, before continuing in a tone that was far colder and more rational than before, leaving no room for negotiation:

"But there is one thing that must be implemented immediately!"

"From this moment on, all videos, topics, posts, and news reports involving the battle of the alien Space Fleet above the Hoover Dam are to be blocked, deleted, and destroyed nationwide."

"As for all independent accounts that have disseminated relevant firsthand footage in tracking updates, whether they are individuals or members of an organization, all departments are to immediately execute detention procedures."

"There is no flexibility on this matter!"

"If these images continue to circulate on the internet, we won't need to wait for the million-strong Zeta Star army to descend; we will trigger nationwide chaos from within ourselves within forty-eight hours!"

The high-ranking officials sitting in the Situation Room straightened their backs almost simultaneously, confirming with each other in a brief, tense exchange of glances.

Lawrence Geller set aside the mutiny suppression report, folded his hands on the table, and spoke in a deep, concise tone:

"The Department of Defense will immediately issue the code-named 'Clear Screen' comprehensive lockdown order to the command nodes of the National Guard in every state: social media, news sites, academic databases, and cloud backups are to cooperate with federal technical departments for real-time filtering, leaving no blind spots."

Mark Milley simultaneously pulled his encrypted terminal from the holster at his waist and placed it on the table, immediately adding to the Secretary of Defense's words:

"The Joint Chiefs of Staff will simultaneously switch all digital monitoring assets belonging to the U.S. Cyber Command to the domestic key public opinion scanning channel, and all cooperation interfaces with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and technology companies will be activated within half an hour."

Evelyn Strauss turned to a new page in the shorthand notebook in front of her, the cap of her fountain pen leaving a shallow mark on her palm:

"The National Security Council will immediately convene an inter-agency content lockdown coordination group to ensure that no federal agencies or local governments experience delays or errors in information exchange."

Alan Holt said only one sentence: "All field operations and signal interception nodes of the intelligence system are to immediately adjust their priorities to monitor in real-time the jump trails of any surviving Zeta Star flying saucers, as well as any intelligence fragments that might point to the whereabouts of Prince Dao Dun, leaving no civilian channels unchecked."

Victoria Monroe pulled the Secretary of State's dedicated encrypted communication tablet from the drawer under the table and added:

"The State Department will simultaneously conduct encrypted briefings for intelligence joint meetings with the EU, NATO, and Asia-Pacific allies, maintaining a unified stance and refusing any unofficial channels or questioning briefings regarding the unidentified aerial phenomena that occurred in Lighthouse Country airspace tonight."

All orders were seamlessly connected, with no one expressing dissent and no one asking further questions about budget or resources.

The buzzing of the cold fluorescent lights above the Situation Room faded away amidst the various encrypted communication frequencies filling the room.

Biden watched all of this, simply tightening his fingers on the table where they lay flat.

...

Los Angeles, Hollywood Hills, detached villa.

Zhang Yi was woken up by a ray of sunlight leaking through the gap in the curtains.

He rolled over, sat up from the Italian leather sofa he had bought not long ago, rubbed his eyes, yawned, casually swiped open the system interface in front of him, and then froze.

The emotion point balance displayed a string of numbers he had never seen in his life: ten million points!

He rubbed his eyes and looked again, confirming that he hadn't counted an extra zero.

He really hadn't miscounted.

Last night, using the Heaven and Earth Illusion, he had fabricated a shocking battle above the Hoover Dam involving two hundred thousand Space Fleet ships and two thousand alien flying saucers, from the White House to The Pentagon, from the tourists on the Hoover Dam observation deck to the frontline soldiers at the Indian Springs base, from the YouTubers pinned to the ground by the military, to the pale-faced high-ranking Washington officials in the Situation Room...

Everyone's fear, shock, cognitive collapse, and mental breakdown had all transformed into emotion points, snowballing crazily while he slept, eventually breaking through the ten-million mark.

Zhang Yi sat up straight on the sofa, stared at the string of numbers for a moment, and then let out a sigh of deep satisfaction from the depths of his chest.

He used to be poor, and when buying things in the system store, he was always calculating and stingy; he had to buy low-end versions of androids, haggle by the hour to rent Starships, and even spend ages arguing with the system to fix script loopholes, just to save those few thousand emotion points.

Now, he could finally splurge.

He opened the system store, and his first act of revenge spending was to buy six pairs of ion suppression gloves and six pairs of directional traction gloves all at once!

Things he used to struggle to rent two pairs of, he was now buying twelve pairs at once, and it only added up to a mere 300,000, just pocket change—he hadn't even spent the remainder of his balance.

He leaned back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and was just about to browse the high-priced item section of the store to see if there were any big-ticket items worth buying, when an event-related screen suddenly popped up in the corner of the system interface, making him stop his finger.

On the screen was the former President of the Lighthouse Country, Prant, who was standing on the podium at a campaign rally, surrounded by the crowd below and flashes of light going off one after another.

During his previous presidential term, Prant had offended the establishment and touched the interests of the Lighthouse Country's vested interest groups with various policies, leading to his failure to win re-election for a second term.

He had originally been gathering strength for the next election, but his campaign prospects had always been shrouded in uncertainty.

The appearance of those two hundred thousand Space Fleet ships and two thousand alien flying saucers above the Hoover Dam last night had instead brought him an unexpected crack of hope.

That sleepyhead Biden had chosen to block the spread of information and go all the way with it; the military was sent across the country, indiscriminately arresting anyone who had filmed videos, started live streams, posted related content on social media, or even just forwarded screenshots in private chat groups, whether they were common citizens or social elites.

A large number of these people were previously the cornerstone of Prant's voter base, and their resentment began to accumulate in every corner of the internet hours after the lockdown policy was implemented; everyone within the Lighthouse Country was complaining, and their deep-seated resentment toward Biden grew ever stronger.

And as for those who kept standing up to call for "revealing the truth," even as they were taken away by the military one after another, new people kept stepping into their places, like weeds that had been uprooted but never stopped sprouting again.

For Prant, this was simply a godsend!

At this moment, at the campaign rally, Prant stood on the podium, his hands gripping the edges of the lectern on both sides, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the tie at his collar loosened by half an inch, his golden hair glinting under the rows of temporary spotlights set up above the rally venue.