Chapter 219: Lingshu Biyuan

After the meeting ended, everyone rose and left the assembly hall; low murmurs arose continuously, and every face was grave.

Yang Yi was the last to leave.

As she passed the massive floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the bustling city below, still ignorant of its fate, her silhouette stretched long under the night’s lights.

After leaving the assembly hall, Xia’s highest decision-making body convened another secret meeting under the cover of night.

The underground strategic briefing room, three hundred meters below ground, could only be entered by those with the Chief Commander’s special authorization or whose names appeared on the Strategic Security Committee’s core membership list.

Commissioner Sun Xuecheng, in charge of foreign affairs and international matters, was clearly agitated; he slammed his fist on the table, his excitement palpable:

“This is a crisis—but also an opportunity! It is our historic chance to reshape the international order and elevate our nation’s status. We must leverage Yang Yi’s demonstrated deterrence in Akka to rapidly advance our plan to lead the globe.”

Commissioner Zhou Feizhan, responsible for strategic security, and Commissioner Zheng Qi, in charge of domestic affairs and society, held more cautious attitudes.

Commissioner Zhou Feizhan tapped his pen against his notebook as he pondered: “Yang Yi has only given us twenty-four hours for preliminary assessment and strategic mobilization; Xia’s plan to lead the world is now set in stone. But we must also take seriously the hidden risks—such as resistance from other nations.”

“We must also understand the intent behind her sudden shift in attitude—why, after previously appearing detached from the center of power, has she been so provoked by Akka’s cloning experiments? Could it be genetic contamination?”

“Is such an unstable entity—a true ‘god’ hanging over all humanity—truly beneficial to humankind or to Xia? Moreover, she herself has admitted her genes are contaminated by alien life. Though she claims the risk of losing control is minimal, we cannot afford to neglect the maximum possible safeguards.”

“Our current strategic mission has shifted from defending against external enemies to ensuring internal stability. The greatest threat is Yang Yi’s risk of losing control and her increasingly uncontrollable personal will—she has become an uncontrollable variable.”

“And there is the growing population of awakened individuals. As the strongest among them, Yang Yi is naturally their leader. If she chooses to lead them, it will deliver a severe blow to our nation’s security.”

It was not that he held any personal grievance against Yang Yi; rather, from his position, he was duty-bound to safeguard the nation’s safety—his recommendations were his responsibility and a necessary precaution.

The moment he finished speaking, the entire room fell silent—so quiet a pin could be heard dropping. His concerns were shared by every member of this top-tier decision-making circle.

Commissioner Zheng Qi broke the silence, opened his notebook, frowned at it, then looked around:

“After Yang Yi resolved that SSS-level apocalyptic disaster, her image was already deified by many. Domestic public veneration of Yang Yi now surpasses faith in collective narratives—let alone among foreign populations. After the destruction of Akka’s thirteen military bases, this public sentiment has intensified again.”

“If she were to step forward and call out, many would follow. This trend is dangerous! We must curb this wave of personality cult propaganda—otherwise the consequences are unimaginable!”

The entire room erupted into a buzz—pages turning, sipping sounds, chairs scraping, voices arguing—all radiating unease.

Commissioner Sun Xuecheng frowned: “Xia’s global leadership is now unstoppable—we must seize this opportunity. Hasn’t Strategic Security already been secretly researching psychological suppression weapons against high-energy individuals? Continue advancing that research.”

“And regarding Commissioner Zheng’s concern about personality cults, I propose we downplay her personal authority in propaganda—frame Yang Yi’s popular title of ‘God on Earth’ as ‘the collective will and strength that emerged in the face of a shared crisis’...”

“The most urgent task now is to launch an international initiative. Leveraging the residual shock from Akka’s destroyed military bases, we can use ‘conveying Ms. Yang Yi’s warning’ as a pretext to establish a new international order centered on our nation.”

“Yang Yi is currently our diplomatic nuclear weapon—we can use her personal military might to coerce nations that dare resist, and lure others with the Seed Program and the Universal Awakening Program...”

…

Deep into the night, this secret meeting was bound to last long; many would find no sleep this night.

Late at night, Yang Yi returned to her estate on Lingxi Mountain, just outside the capital, named Lingshu Biyuan.

“Ling” refers to her; “Shu” symbolizes that she is the core of this era.

More than an estate, it was a palace—Lingshu Biyuan was over ten times larger than the Forbidden Palace. To tour it fully would take at least a week.

Some said this estate was Xia’s most lavish tribute.

The main residence, named Xingqiong, now glowed brightly with light.

Yang Yi paused at the door, halting her steps.

The deep blue-black sky was serene, making the forest in the cold wind seem all the more desolate. This winter was bitterly cold.

She rarely visited the estate; most of her time was spent in the Jueguan Bureau dormitory, so it felt unfamiliar to her.

How many surveillance devices were here? Yang Yi silently surveyed the surroundings—this might be the most luxurious prison in the world...

She lowered her gaze and pushed open the door.

She preferred quiet—no staff were needed except for daily cleaning, so the villa was silent.

Inside Xingqiong, the space soared dozens of meters high, filled with top-tier artworks gathered from across the globe: paintings, sculptures, ancient texts—but most areas remained empty, echoing only with her footsteps.

Gradually, she heard the pulsing rhythm of rock music drifting from the reception hall. She paused, then turned toward the sound.

Chris sat casually on the sofa, gripping a controller, gunfire erupting as a large movable screen displayed a 3D shooting game—just as she looked over, a sniper was shot down in a single shot.

“You’re back!” Chris said, still pressing buttons on the controller, glancing back at her with a raised eyebrow. “I had staff buy gaming equipment—want to play a round?”

His demeanor was vibrant, radiating the energy of a spirited young man. When still, he resembled an exquisitely carved masterpiece; when moving, his brilliance was captivating.

Yang Yi watched the scene silently for a moment—she was the director of this film, holding absolute command and creative authority.

Suddenly, she smiled and walked toward him.

“Alright. Teach me.” she said.