Chapter 242: The Eve of Collapse

Britannia, Timms Village.

Inside Thomas's two-story house, the fireplace crackled.

On the TV screen, the live broadcast of the United Nations Interstellar Base Planning Conference was abruptly interrupted by a seven-second video.

When Yang Yi's face, twisted in both pain and ecstasy, appeared on the screen, the brush in Thomas's hand dropped to the floor with a "clatter," splashing a small stain of dark red paint onto the old floorboards.

The screen turned to a field of snow static.

He stared blankly at the static, as if he could pierce through the screen to see that figure being flayed by a thousand gazes.

Outside the window, under a lead-gray sky, a crow suddenly dove from a withered branch and, without warning, crashed into the thick glass window.

"Thud—" a muffled sound; feathers flew, dark blood bloomed on the glass like a grotesque flower, and the crow's corpse slid down the windowsill.

Thomas suddenly clutched his chest; a sharp pain swept over him, as if something of utmost importance had suddenly snapped.

##

Immediately after the seven-second video appeared, top global image analysis laboratories, military intelligence agencies, underground hacker groups, and technical masters all launched frame-by-frame analysis at the same time.

The cooling fans of the supercomputer emitted a high-pitched whine; the analysts' eyes were bloodshot.

"The angle of the light source matches the physical parameters of the otherworldly environment with 99.8% accuracy..."

"The trajectory of life force dissipation matches the 'Sky Altar' event in Britannia..."

"Micro-expressions and muscle movements show no logical breaks; physiological signals have a 95% authenticity rate..."

"No traces of digital synthesis, substitution, or rendering were found..."

Test reports from different stances all reached the same conclusion.

Like cold verdicts, the reports were quietly delivered to the desks of world leaders or tremulously published by tech geeks on anonymous forums.

"After independent cross-verification by multiple agencies... the video content... was not synthesized."

This brief, objective technical conclusion was like the final straw that broke the camel's back for everyone defending Yang Yi.

Fear, shifting from an outpouring of emotion, became a fact certified by science.

The last shred of luck in the air was drained away, leaving only the iron-clad "truth" and the deathly silence that followed.

##

Berlin, Xincheng, Tokyo, Mengmai...

At dusk, giant screens on city landmarks, public displays in streets and alleys, and even side screens on buses passing through squares all repeated the seven seconds.

The dark red sky of the other world, twisted alien creatures, Yang Yi suspended in the air, the expression on her face weaving pain and ecstasy, and the thousands of strands of life-force light mist flowing backward toward her.

Everyone was as if pulled by an invisible hand by the neck, looking up; their faces first showed shock, then were replaced by a more primal emotion—the fear of a predator.

Posters and slogans on the walls that originally read "Savior" and "God of Humanity" were roughly trampled underfoot.

Countless distorted graffiti were sprayed onto the walls: "Imposter!"

"Demon!"

"Evil God! Get out of Earth!"

Whispers coalesced into an uneasy roar.

##

The top ten spots on the global social media trend list were as if massacred: #SheIsTheEvilGod#, #VideoNotSynthesized#, #TruthOfYangYiVideo#, #StopTheCivilizationContinuationPlan#, #GlobalEmergencyState#...

Clicking on any topic revealed AI-generated images: Yang Yi's face merged with twisted evil god totems from ancient scriptures; behind her were burning cities and weeping humans; some even "reconstructed" synthetic footage of her "absorbing" ordinary people.

These images spread, replicated, and mutated at the speed of viral fission, flooding the entire internet.

Rational analysis posts vanished like snowflakes thrown into boiling water.

Some cried out in despair: "The apocalypse has come!" "We are all lambs she raises!"

Others demanded immediate "execution" or "exile!"

Waves of pessimism, anger, and fear erupted from the internet, gradually soaking through the entire real world.

##

Capital of Ark Country, Lenton, Bali, Sko...

In sealed rooms shielded by technology, the highest decision-making bodies of various nations were holding emergency meetings.

The president pressed his forehead in silence; generals pointed at the blood-red words "She Is The Evil God" on the screen, arguing fiercely; the intelligence chief presented top-secret reports on Yang Yi's abnormally growing power.

Smoke lingered, coffee cooled; under the cold glow of the screens, everyone's face was solemn and exhausted, with hidden terror deep within.

##

Inside a high-end apartment, in the study.

Ackerman Tang, the cybersecurity director, had just maintained the network security for the United Nations "Seventh Interstellar Base Planning Conference."

His face was haggard as he stared intently at a message that had just popped up on his encrypted phone.

An anonymous account had again transferred five million euros into his secret account. The remarks field was blank, but he knew who it was from.

His fingers hovered above the "Confirm Receipt" button, trembling violently.

He opened the phone monitor; on the screen, his daughter lay weak on a hospital bed after chemotherapy, fallen into sleep.

This money could buy the best targeted drugs on Earth. Moreover, the other party had promised him a "ticket" to escape the chaos.

On the computer screen was a paused news feed; Yang Yi's face looked lonely and distant at the hearing.

"... I did nothing wrong... She was originally..." He closed his eyes, and his fingers descended.

A faint electronic chime rang out, like thunder in the silence.

##

Late night. United Nations Headquarters.

At an emergency UN press briefing, the spokesperson faced a dense array of microphones and read out a cold statement: "... Based on the serious allegations and crisis of trust regarding Ms. Yang Yi, the Director General of the 'Civilization Continuation Plan,' which have recently emerged, and to safeguard the overall interests of humanity and procedural justice, the Security Council has passed Resolution 1475 by an overwhelming majority: effective immediately, all project activities, resource allocation, and international cooperation under the 'Civilization Continuation Plan' are suspended indefinitely until the relevant doubts are thoroughly clarified."

The "Civilization Continuation Plan" was officially frozen.

##

In an unknown dimensional rift, within a spatial fold of Earth.

Wade sat before a desk seemingly woven from shadows, with dozens of holographic screens of varying sizes floating before him, broadcasting real-time reactions from across Earth: fear on the streets, the internet boiling, schemes in private rooms, resolutions at the United Nations, personal betrayals...

On the screens, Yang Yi sat at the main podium, her expression a forced calmness and indifference. His fingertips gently traced her face.

Where his fingertips passed, data streams rippled like water waves.

On Wade's face, there was no smugness of a scheme succeeding, only a deep pity. Beneath that pity lay a hint of barely suppressed obsession with the masterpiece about to be completed.

"Look," he murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the emptiness, heard by no one yet as if spoken to the whole world, "This is 'civilization'... such a delicate, yet fragile glass vessel. Apply a little pressure, scratch a single crack, and it will begin to crumble from within, emitting such... a pleasing wail."

His gaze pierced through the screens, as if seeing that solitary figure in the center of the hall, being pushed by humanity itself toward the cliff's edge.

"And you, my dear experiment, my great master..." The pitying curve of his lips deepened, revealing a fervent expectation in his eyes, "about to shed the final ill-fitting cocoon named 'humanity'. Let us see what kind of... radiance emerges from the broken cocoon."

He raised his hand, his fingertips tapping the air as if pressing the final piano key.

"The overture is over."

He declared:

"The final chapter begins."