A few days later.
Zhu Yan was lying in bed, using the last bit of time before sleep to scroll through his phone.
During the day, while standing guard, he either slacked off by browsing the forums or slacked off by chatting in private messages.
The video Jin Rongxu had posted on the [Player Forum] had caused quite a stir.
Not because it had received a high number of views, but because of the announcement posted on both Director Jin’s and Jin Rongxu’s accounts:
“An Earnest Statement Regarding the False Information Recently Spread by [Hunter], Along with a Public Notice of Voluntary Acceptance of Investigation.”
Zhu Yan had read the announcement word for word, then privately gossiped about it with Yang Zhanbai.
“I hereby formally submit a written application to the relevant disciplinary inspection and auditing departments…”
Yang Zhanbai couldn’t stop himself from humming the sentence under his breath. Zhu Yan kicked him to shut him up.
So Yang Zhanbai turned to the private-message window for [Zhu Zeyu] and started typing furiously.
“Fine, I don’t think the audit team will find anything. But now every living player knows [Hunter] exists.”
Yang Zhanbai couldn’t help humming again. “The human traitor’s been exposed and everyone’s pointing fingers…”
Zhu Yan kicked him again, harder this time.
“Can you actually guard the door properly?”
Yang Zhanbai finally quieted down.
Zhu Yan rubbed his nose and sighed.
Although the announcement claimed to be a confession, it was actually more like an indictment of [Hunter]’s many atrocities.
Immediately afterward came a wanted notice for [Hunter], issued by the headquarters of the [Human Alliance].
In the language of reading-comprehension questions, it was a declaration that the authorities considered [Hunter] a serious threat.
“We have confirmed that [Hunter] has undergone modification by the special powers of [Mad Happy Land]. His personality and thought processes have both been distorted, and he has lost his humanity.”
That was what the wanted notice said.
“At present, Hunter No. 1 and Hunter No. 3 have been rated S, the highest danger level. All citizens are urged to exercise extreme caution…”
S-rank.
Zhu Yan savored those two characters, a strange smile spreading across his face.
To be honest, he was rather proud.
Was this an indirect acknowledgment of his abilities?
“That guy’s pretty damn impressive, too.” Yang Zhanbai’s red messages popped up line by line in front of Zhu Yan. “How do you think he manages to screw himself over so spectacularly? After all that, he didn’t accomplish his goal, got injured, and ended up wanted.”
In reality, that wasn’t the case. Zhu Yan had simply been waiting until the very last possible deadline.
During the day, he had casually gone along with Yang Zhanbai’s comments and hadn’t contradicted him.
It would only be another day or two before he had the real [Connector] installed.
Over the past few days of patrols, he had already figured out the activity patterns of the people in the control room.
Zhu Yan shifted around on the bed. Hearing the sound of someone showering in the washroom, he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position.
The people in the control room began taking turns eating lunch at 11:30 a.m. Tomorrow, he would switch shifts with Yang Zhanbai at noon.
At 12:30, there would be relatively few people in the control room. Those who needed to eat would have gone to lunch, while those who had already returned would be relaxed and drowsy after a full meal.
As for Yang Zhanbai, there was no need to mention him.
He slacked off from time to time, and Zhu Yan could tell at a glance whether he was browsing the [Player Forum].
Besides, given Yang Zhanbai’s strength, even if he stood guard diligently without slacking off, there was no way he could detect Zhu Yan while Zhu Yan was invisible.
At this point, the Seer had completely lost her authority. Even if she issued a warning, the people in the shelter would no longer take her words seriously.
Zhu Yan planned out tomorrow’s operation as his fingers slid across the blue-lit screen.
The network was still working normally, but the trending searches these past few days had been incredibly boring.
Aside from [Hunter]’s name hanging at the top of the trending list for two days, everything else consisted of things like “After Returning to Normal Life”—hopeful visions of the future—as well as lifestyle guides such as “Tips for Stockpiling Emergency Supplies” and “The National Treasury Is Well-Funded,” all meant to stabilize the public mood.
Zhu Yan pulled up the quilt and switched off the lamp beside his bed.
For privacy’s sake, he had hastily hung a circle of cloth curtains around his bed.
That way, no one could see the strange smile on his face whenever he saw the words [Hunter]. He also didn’t have to worry about being caught by Guan En while he was secretly cuddling the black-and-white cat in bed.
Guan En was the only person who had seen Zhu Yan carry the [Cat] away.
Until that man died, Zhu Yan still had to be careful.
Zhu Yan stroked the black-and-white cat’s soft chin and mouthed, “Good night.”
He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
…
The next day.
At noon, Zhu Yan waited outside the control room, gazing down the corridor in anticipation.
Yang Zhanbai was as punctual as ever. His red hair had grown out enough to reveal dark roots, and he waved at Zhu Yan from a distance.
“I ran into a guy from the ecological farming area today,” he said. “My God, I had no idea they had cows, sheep, chickens, and ducks here.”
Yang Zhanbai grabbed Zhu Yan, apparently eager to share the gossip.
“I’m starving to death, brother.”
Zhu Yan intended to eat a hot meal before carrying out the operation.
“What’s in the cafeteria today?”
“Boring chicken and shrimp,” Yang Zhanbai said regretfully. “There are also frozen dumplings.”
That would do.
Zhu Yan nodded and took it as his cue to leave.
He rushed into the employee cafeteria, grabbed a large plate of steaming dumplings, and began eating at his leisure.
When the time reached 12:25, a strand of invisible [Mist] separated from the puppet “Zhu Zeyu” and quickly drifted toward the control room.
As he had expected, there were very few people in the control room at this hour.
A woman who had just finished lunch stood beside the coffee machine, holding a cup of hot water and chatting cheerfully with a colleague.
“…I’m telling you, it’s pretty convenient. My son teaches at the school downstairs, you know? He said there are only a limited number of children, so teaching them is easy.”
Another man rose from his seat and sighed.
“Can children even survive in a world like this?”
“I’m pretty lucky—I don’t have any children. Two of my relatives’ kids both died. If you ask me…”
The [Mist] silently selected a desk and slipped toward it.
The desk belonged to the woman who was speaking.
Zhu Yan had been observing her for several days.
The woman had clearly benefited from the times. Relying on her seniority, she spent every day slacking off at her desk and often wandered around.
She was neither particularly attentive nor obsessive about details—
The [Mist] condensed into an invisible hand and pushed the real, disk-shaped [Connector] toward the deepest recess beneath the desk.
With the device shoved deep against the underside of the desktop like this, there was no way the woman would notice it.
“Oh, stop it.”
The woman patted her chest, interrupting her colleague in a tone that was both startled and smug.
“Thank goodness my son was already grown up. We both survived the first instance.”
“Don’t think about those children anymore. Doesn’t it make you miserable to dwell on things like that at a time like this?”
The [Connector] was silently fastened to the underside of the desk, where it adhered firmly.
Zhu Yan withdrew the invisible hand, his palm damp with sweat.
He had even laid so much groundwork beforehand.
Even if the woman discovered it, she would probably assume it was just an ordinary alarm.
nce】【Lighthearted Comedy】【Ultimate Gentleman's Novel】【Viewer Discretion Advised for Under 16】 The mightiest human hero, Sharen Morian, is resurrected after a thousand years by his wife—the Demon King. This is not your typical hero-vs-demon-king tale.
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
