Chapter 224: An Egg

When Yang Yi was at the Ling Shu Villa, she had already felt this tide surging from all corners of the world.

This tide was unified, swift, and regular, wave after wave, forming a massive tsunami within a few days, and constantly intensifying.

She felt the undercurrents surging within the decision-making layer of the Xia Kingdom, felt the mainstream voice in domestic public opinion, under the infiltration of the foreign internet, shift from fierce opposition to only hollow rebuttals, from "forces beyond the mirror are dismantling our nation's leadership rights" and "sowing discord between Yang Yi and us" to "we must believe in her" and "she is not a monster."

Yang Yi also felt that the Xia Kingdom's official stance in this battle of public opinion was ambiguous.

Until one day, at a meeting regarding the subsequent planning for the continuation of human civilization, someone proposed: "Advisor Yang, some recent public opinion has caused some unnecessary trouble internationally; may we consider arranging a press conference for you to clarify these rumors?"

She could see reflected in their eyes not just simple awe, but also some suspicion bred by outside public opinion.

This question was immediately vetoed by the leadership of the decision-making layer, but this veto imprinted a deeper suspicion in the hearts of the attendees.

Slowly, this invisible, viscous pressure spread like spores in the air, squeezing in from all directions.

When she opened the "Gate" to assist the Blood Moon Star and Yellow Sand Star in engineering transport, when people in meetings dared not look her straight in the eye and shifted their chairs uneasily, and when she returned to the Ling Shu Villa and encountered those highly trained staff members.

Their attitude toward her remained impeccable, but something had changed.

It was not neglect, but an overly cautious, overly "politically correct" posture, as if every second of contact with her was a high-risk operation.

Sometimes she could catch fleeting glances; they were not curiosity or worship, but an instinctive wariness when facing an unpredictable natural phenomenon.

Until the United Nations requested her to go to a certain country in Europe to handle a Class-A disaster; when she resolved that alien creature underground and just emerged from the ground, what greeted her was not welcome and gratitude, but an egg.

That egg exploded on her telekinetic barrier, yellow and white viscous fluid mixed with broken shells slowly dripping down.

The egg was thrown by a little girl, who was surrounded by the crowd at the very front, still holding up that weak little hand; her golden hair reflected a brilliant light under the sun, yet her childish face was full of anger, and she shouted at Yang Yi: "Demon!"

The crowd, filled with excitement, fear, and suspicion, carefully observed Yang Yi's reaction.

Telekinesis was Yang Yi's spiritual power; the taste of the egg did not need to pass through taste buds but directly entered her brain, every single fine nerve able to smell its cheap, fishy stench.

She did not block this tactile sensation and smell.

The child's voice of accusation was clear yet sharp as a knife, and the surrounding buzzing murmurs instantly became distinct—

"Did she really bring it..."

"Otherwise, why do monsters appear whenever she shows up..."

"She still hasn't dared to produce her own DNA test..."

"Even the last apocalypse disaster was brought by her, right..."

"False god! She is a demon disguised as a god!"

"A monster wearing human skin..."

"Look at her appearance, it's truly terrifying..."

Her time was stretched infinitely; all sounds were like whispering echoes, constantly looping and echoing in her mind.

The cold touch of the egg fluid, like a venomous snake, crawled up her spine to her brain, snapping the last string named "restraint."

Yang Yi lowered her head, looking at that pile of filth, then slowly raised her head, her gaze sweeping over that little girl pushed to the front, whose eyes were terrified yet filled with instilled hatred, and then sweeping over those faces full of suspicion or anger.

The string within her body named "reason" and "morality," under long-term heavy pressure, finally emitted a sharp, unbearable snapping sound.

This is who they are.

I calm the storm, and they complain the sunlight is too glaring; I move the massive boulder pressing down, and they blame the dust kicked up for dirtying their clothes.

I kill monsters, yet they say I am the monster.

I give them a future, yet they use all their wisdom to throw a rotten egg at me.

What a clever weapon this egg is, condensing all your courage, all your "rebellion"—cheap, dirty, useless except for symbolic insult, perfectly matching you!

Look at you... look at these faces!

What do I see?

Not souls, but clusters of reflexive nerve bundles!

Not thoughts, but single-celled organisms reacting instinctively to stress!

Someone shouts "she is a calamity," and you nod; someone pushes a child out, and you feel you have occupied the moral high ground.

Your anger is rented, your sympathy is a script, and your independent thinking... ha! What is that thing? I can even "hear" those instilled short phrases in your brains echoing emptily, like a broken bellows wheezing!

Yang Yi looked down at her feet; in the cracks where the ground had collapsed lay a large mass of alien creature corpses, multi-legged like centipedes. These alien creatures had been devouring people indiscriminately in this city, and nearly ten thousand people had already lost their lives.

Why did I kill these alien creatures? Why did I save them?

Was it so they could call me "demon" at this very moment? Was it so they could throw rotten eggs at me?

She slowly clenched her fist; only thus could she suppress the flame boiling more and more fiercely in her heart.

The self-talk in her heart initially trembled slightly, then gradually rolled faster and faster in her mind, finally turning into a silent roar.

Calm? Restraint?

For you, I acted like a fool, using the fingers of a god to play mortal games, obeying your rules, swallowing your schemes, all for that tiny... pitiful hope of not being misunderstood! For that sliver of a beautiful imagination of you!

She strangely asked herself:

Why must I endure this?

Why must I stand here, letting their stupidity and malice stick to me like this fishy egg fluid?!