17: Chapter 17 Three Million, Not Enough to Repair the Flaw

Los Angeles, Silver Lake community, Silver Lake Park.

The three o'clock afternoon sun filtered through the dense layers of oak leaves, casting dappled, golden light across the grass.

The neatly trimmed lawn stretched along the gentle slope down to the lake, where occasionally, a few grey squirrels could be seen darting down from the tree trunks, rummaging for something in the grass.

At the park entrance, the white sign with black lettering that read "No Tenting Allowed: Violators Will Be Fined and Forcibly Evicted" glinted in the sunlight, its text clear and stern.

Yet, in a corner of the park less than two hundred meters from that sign, on a gentle slope embraced by several sturdy oak trees, Zhang Yi lay sprawled in his invisible tent. One arm was pillowed behind his head, while the other hand swiped through the air, adjusting the semi-transparent system interface that only he could see.

His expression was incredibly content—one might even say, content enough to be annoying.

Once the invisible tent was set up, the optical camouflage field activated automatically. From the outside, this was just an ordinary, empty patch of grassy shade.

Never mind the residents occasionally passing by to walk their dogs; even if someone specifically walked under this shade, they would only think it was nothing more than a few oak trees and a patch of lawn.

Last night, a stray cat had even stepped over the top of his tent—or, to be precise, stepped on the grass above the optical camouflage field. Lying inside the tent, Zhang Yi heard the faint pitter-patter of cat paws on grass blades less than thirty centimeters above his head, and he didn't even lift an eyelid.

A peaceful sleep. A true, thorough, peaceful sleep where he didn't have to worry about anyone coming to shake his tent.

At this moment, he adjusted the system interface to a comfortable viewing angle. The screen was playing a real-time feed of everything happening inside that fishing cabin by Gold Lake in northern Nevada.

Edward Warren and his four core advisors—Raymond, Hawthorne, Sloan, and Margaret—had been discussing for several hours, surrounded by a table full of documents, hand-drawn charts, copies of old photographs, and scans of old newspapers.

Zhang Yi watched as Raymond Carter slammed the labor statistics for the Hoover Dam onto the coffee table, watched Hawthorne take off his glasses and wipe them with a cloth for the fourth time, watched the Wall Street actuary face of Sloan turn pale with fear, and watched Margaret twist and snap her pen cap on and off repeatedly. Finally, seeing Edward Warren stand before the fireplace and say, in that composed tone typical of a senator, "I will contact people higher up to probe slightly, and then I will know the truth," Zhang Yi couldn't hold it in anymore.

He lay on his sleeping bag, legs crossed, shaking his head and clicking his tongue as he watched. "Smart people certainly have a lot of ideas."

Zhang Yi muttered to himself, his tone carrying the condescending mockery that only comes from having full insight into the big picture. "Those five people—Edward and his group—just sat down in a room, barely drank their tea, and based on a single piece of parking lot surveillance footage, they managed to piece together a whole chronicle of an alien conspiracy spanning half a century."

"The Hoover Dam was built for Aliens, the one hundred and twelve workers were silenced, the Great Depression was artificially manipulated..."

He paused, freezing the screen on the image of Raymond giving his impassioned speech. Looking at the bloodshot eyes and the dark, bluish-grey bags under the eyes of the former Silicon Valley bigwig, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Honestly, many of the details in the plot they just deduced were things I, the mastermind behind the scenes, hadn't even thought of myself."

"Especially that theory about the Great Depression being artificially manipulated to provide cheap labor for the Hoover Dam... It's a pity this guy Raymond isn't a screenwriter."

"And that business about Gore, saying he predicted the 1947 Roswell Incident back in 1945."

"I didn't even make that causal connection when I wrote the script, but the few of them, back and forth, managed to perfectly weld Gore's drunken ravings to the Alien conspiracy."

He pulled his hand from behind his head and cupped his fists in a salute toward the frozen image of the five people on the system interface, his face showing unconcealed satisfaction.

"You five smart people—I only wrote one scene in my script about a Grey Alien being captured by the Men in Black, but you lot, you actually helped me fill in the prequel, the background setting, and the historical causality."

"You've finished writing all the parts I hadn't even written."

Zhang Yi shook his head, the curve of his mouth impossible to suppress:

"This is what you call—as long as you plant the seed in the right soil, the soil itself will help it take root and sprout."

"The soil might even think the seed isn't getting enough nutrients and start fertilizing itself."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the system notification sound rang out.

[Ding—Emotional fluctuation detected from Link Warren, Emotional Value +230.]

[Ding—Emotional fluctuation detected from Edward Warren, Emotional Value +390.]

[Ding—Psychological shock fluctuation detected from Raymond Carter, Emotional Value +350.]

[Ding—Cognitive shock fluctuation detected from Hawthorne, Emotional Value +290.]

[Ding—Deep anxiety fluctuation detected from Sloan, Emotional Value +260.]

[Ding—Fear fluctuation detected from Margaret Chen, Emotional Value +280.]

The notification sounds came one after another, as dense as firecrackers during a festival.

Link's fear, Edward's deep vigilance, the shock and lingering dread in Raymond's reasoning process, the chilling heart of Hawthorne as he pored through the codes, the cold sweat on Sloan as he looked at the financial data, and the hair-raising terror of Margaret as she discovered key information on the old newspaper—the emotional fluctuations of these six people were accurately captured, measured, and quantified by the system, then poured into Zhang Yi's Emotional Value account wave after wave.

Zhang Yi watched the number continuously jumping upward, his expression gradually shifting from the earlier mockery to a more substantial satisfaction.

1,000 points. 3,000 points. 8,000 points. 12,000 points.

The numbers were rolling upward, and the speed of the rolling increased, with each refresh jumping up by a large margin.

Throughout the entire day, those six people in the fishing cabin at Gold Lake repeatedly discussed, verified, and unearthed new, terrifying conclusions. The deeper they discussed, the more intense their emotional fluctuations became, and the more bountiful Zhang Yi's income grew.

20,000 points. 25,000 points. 28,000 points.

When the numbers finally stopped, the Emotional Value balance on the system interface settled at a number Zhang Yi had never seen since he transmigrated—30,000 points.

Thirty thousand. Zhang Yi sat up from his sleeping bag. The movement caused a slight rustle of tent fabric—though, of course, it couldn't be heard from the outside.

He looked at the number, squinting his eyes, the smile on his lips carrying a genuinely satisfied taste.

"Thirty thousand. That's enough. Finally, I don't have to eat that whole wheat bread from the relief station that's harder than a brick anymore."

"Time to upgrade. Let's get myself a proper place to stay. No matter how comfortable the tent is, it's not as good as a bed."

He opened the system store, and just as he was about to browse the items, a red notification box popped up without any warning.

[Warning!]

[The system has detected four plot holes in the latest calculation process for the script "Extraterrestrial Visitor," which may cause the subsequent story's logical chain to collapse.]

[Please check and handle this immediately, Host.]

Zhang Yi's smile froze for half a second. Here we go again.

He lowered his crossed legs, sat up straight, and clicked on the notification details.

The system interface listed the four problems one by one.

[Plot Hole 1: The hydroelectric resource anomalies at the Hoover Dam (a 20%-30% hydraulic deficit and 30%-40% power deficit between 1947 and 1997) are unrelated to the Alien research facility.]

[Plot Hole 2: The life experience, public statements, and cause of death of Hoover Dam Chief Engineer Frank Gall are unrelated to Aliens.]

[Plot Hole 3: The cause of the subsequent disappearance of the newspaper reporter who covered the exclusive interview with Gall in 1945 is unrelated to Aliens. The reporter's disappearance has a different cause and does not match the conspiracy narrative set by the Host's script.]

[Plot Hole 4: The reason for the bankruptcy and suicide of the newspaper owner is unrelated to Aliens. The newspaper owner's death was an independent event and does not align with the narrative logic of "those who contact the truth are silenced" set by the Host.]

Zhang Yi read through the four plot holes from beginning to end twice. The smile on his face gradually faded, replaced by a grave and focused expression.

Last time, the two plot holes—a power leak and a lighting malfunction—almost caused him to fail. Those were just low-level plot holes at the level of on-site props.

But these four plot holes involve deep logical loopholes at the level of historical causality. If the truth of any one of them is discovered, the entire story setting of [Extraterrestrial Visitor] will collapse like dominoes from the base up.

He knew the severity of the situation. Last time, the system made it very clear: if the script is exposed, the Emotional Value will be reclaimed, the script destroyed, and the system unbound. The whole package deal, and it didn't even leave him an appeal button.

"System," Zhang Yi's voice sank, "how much Emotional Value is needed to fix all four of these plot holes?"

The system's reply had no delay. [After calculation, to fix all four aforementioned plot holes to an impeccable degree, it requires the consumption of Emotional Value: 3,000,000 points.]

Zhang Yi was silent for two seconds. Then he took a deep breath.

"Three million?" His voice involuntarily rose by half an octave. He pointed his finger at the cold, unfeeling number on the system interface, as if he wanted to poke the system in the forehead through the screen. "Why don't you just go rob someone?"

"You black-hearted system! Do you know how much three million is? I've been working myself to the bone, weaving stories and acting out dramas since I transmigrated, and I've only earned thirty thousand, and you open your mouth and ask for three million? Doesn't your conscience hurt?"

"—Oh, I forgot. You don't have a conscience; you don't even have a human form."

The system seemed completely immune to the Host's emotional outburst; its reply tone didn't deviate by even half a degree from the previous one.

[This pricing has been precisely calculated and is fully compliant; there is no "black-hearted" component. The repair of these four plot holes involves the highest level of manifestation correction, so the price is naturally high.]

Zhang Yi's brow furrowed: "Highest level? What highest level?"

[The repair of script plot holes is divided into six levels based on the scope of correction and the intensity of manifestation.]

A page with detailed level explanations immediately unfolded on the system interface—

[Level 1: Textual record content. Only modifies text information stored in electronic or paper databases; does not involve any physical evidence. The cost is lowest, but the most plot holes remain.]

[Level 2: Real-world items and related physical evidence. On top of modifying text records, it simultaneously modifies physical evidence related to the plot hole.]

[Level 3: Individual memory. On top of completing the first two levels of modification, it simultaneously modifies the memory content of specific individuals so that it aligns with the logic of the corrected script.]

[Level 4: Collective memory. Simultaneously modifies the collective memory of specific groups, used for plot hole repairs involving large-scale public events.]

[Level 5: Real-world buildings or ruins. On top of completing the first four levels, it performs physical manifestation modifications to existing buildings, engineering facilities, historical ruins, etc., in the real world. This level involves direct modification of the real world, and the cost is extremely high.]

[Level 6: Void creation, forced modification. Creates non-existent things out of thin air in the real world, or forcibly erases existing things, making them disappear completely from the causal chain. This level is the highest level of correction and consumes a massive amount of Emotional Value.]