161: Chapter 161 Girl Group Hot Dance Order, Emotional Harvesting

Rockefeller III watched the last remnants of hope that had yet to cool in their eyes, and with a tone that was extremely calm and grave, he delivered the final blow.

"Prince Dao Dun said to me at the end... he said to me..."

"He really likes watching South Korean girl groups dance on screen."

"If possible, he would like to see a live performance by a South Korean girl group."

Samuel gasped.

Isabelle also opened her mouth slightly in shock.

Jacob slowly slid his fingers from his temples and let them hang by his side.

William silently tucked the flask he had just unscrewed, but hadn't had a chance to drink from, back into his coat pocket.

They had just assumed that Prince Dao Dun might be nothing more than a child.

A child who liked cola and instant noodles.

An underage individual of a higher civilization who would make requests that seemed cute and childish to humans.

But when the words "South Korean girl group dance" were repeated verbatim from the mouth of Rockefeller III,

everyone fell silent.

That meant that Prince Dao Dun was no longer a child.

He had completely matured.

This conclusion left everyone thoroughly confused:

A fully mature adult Grey Alien from Zeta Star had traveled thirty-nine light-years from its home planet to Earth,

and after having its heart removed and re-transplanted, its body used as a test subject for Mothman containers, and just waking up from a deep coma, the three requests it made were:

Cola, spicy chicken noodles, and a South Korean girl group dance.

Could it be that the higher civilization of Zeta Star traveled thirty-nine light-years to Earth just for this?

They couldn't understand it.

But regardless of whether they could understand it or not, Prince Dao Dun's words were now the will of God!

The will of God does not need to be understood!

It only needs to be executed completely and meticulously!

Samuel Astor turned around and faced a strike team leader who was still kneeling on the ground, struggling to digest the series of bizarre instructions from the higher civilization.

Samuel pointed his finger at him, his tone completely unlike someone who had just finished discussing cola and spicy chicken noodles,

but rather like a speaker at the final meeting before deploying economic sanctions against a country.

"You."

"Take a team immediately and fly to South Korea on my private jet."

"Tell the Lee family of Samsung:"

"I don't care if they invite them, borrow them, or pay for them out of their own pockets, just get the most beautiful, most popular, and most talented girl group in South Korea right now to come and perform for Prince Dao Dun, and make the Prince happy!"

"If they can't handle this, the Lee family of Samsung won't need to exist in this world anymore!"

...

Hollywood Hills, detached villa.

Zhang Yi leaned back against the sofa, and on the system interface before him, it was broadcasting real-time footage of the Crane Family manor's underground base:

Rockefeller III was kneeling before Prince Dao Dun's hospital bed, reciting his family's full name and Earth's complete coordinates in the Milky Way in a tone so respectful it was almost devout.

He picked up his coffee and took a sip, a faint, satisfied curve typical of a mastermind appearing at the corner of his mouth.

In the entire Crane Family manor underground base, except for the Nano-Carapace, which was real,

and the fact that Solomon's grandfather, father, and he himself had indeed spent three generations reverse-engineering that semi-finished biological armor from the two cockroach-shaped Aliens corpses from 1947,

everything else was fabricated by him.

Those so-called "Mothman container shells" soaking in pale yellow preservation fluid,

were originally just some human experimental samples the Crane Family had used during the research and development of the Nano-Carapace,

and the purpose of the experiments had nothing to do with Mothman; it was purely to test the compatibility of nanobionic construction unit with human tissue.

But Zhang Yi had used the system's text modification function to alter all the labels and file contents of the experimental records into conspiracy theories related to Mothman:

the first batch of container shells in 1950, the second batch in 1953, the third batch in 1956, all the way to the latest batch in 2026, were all marked as "failure."

Yuanzi's appearance was also manually controlled by him from behind the scenes.

He used the 3D projection function of the prop [Quantum State Holographic Communication and Monitoring Core] to project the image of that classical Oriental woman dressed in dark cyan Hanfu into the underground base corridor,

and used the hallucination interference function to make Solomon spin in circles dozens of times.

As for Fourth Prince Daodun, who was lying on the hospital bed covered in tubes, having just woken up from a deep coma, and asking for cola and spicy chicken noodles the moment he opened his mouth,

he was naturally a bionic person he had crafted using the [nanobionic construction unit].

A notification popped up on the system interface regarding an influx of emotion points: five million.

Zhang Yi glanced at the number, nodded slightly, and then leaned back against the sofa.

Five million was not a small amount, but this wave of harvesting wasn't over yet.

The first-level text modification records he had buried in the archives of the Crane Family manor basement had not yet been fully uncovered by Rockefeller III and the others.

Every experimental log altered into a Mothman conspiracy theory, every fabricated document regarding the source of the container shell donors, and every implanted "research note" about Moth Star consciousness transfer technology would trigger a new wave of cognitive shock whenever they were unearthed.

And on Fourth Prince Daodun's side, there was more to come.

Once Rockefeller III, Samuel, and the others truly figured out why Prince Dao Dun liked cola, spicy chicken noodles, and South Korean girl groups, it would trigger another huge wave of emotional fluctuation.

Conservatively estimated, these two waves combined would bring him at least thirty million in revenue.

Thinking of this, the curve of Zhang Yi's mouth deepened a little more.

Then, a series of new emotion point notifications suddenly popped up on the system interface:

from a whole row of high-ranking Washington officials, including Biden, Harris, Graves, Mark Milley, Madeleine, and Sawyer,

each person's emotional fluctuation value was between seven hundred and eight hundred, as dense as a row of firecrackers lit all at once.

But Zhang Yi glanced at the notification details and discovered something unusual.

The emotional fluctuations of these Washington high-ranking officials were all negative:

fury, anxiety, fear, resentment, annoyance, furrowed brows, and the unease brought about by factional confrontation.

He immediately switched the main system screen to the White House.

...

Washington, White House, Situation Room.

People sat on both sides of the curved long table.

Harris sat with her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed tightly, wearing a cold, composed expression of someone who had been offended, silently gathering her strength and preparing to deliver the final blow to break the deadlock.

Secretary of Defense Lawrence Graves placed his military cap on the corner of the table, his fingers interlaced, pressing down on a freshly printed intelligence briefing.

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley sat next to him, his elbows resting on the table, his thick hands clasped against his broad forehead, as if trying to suppress some surging anger.