Chapter 220: Be Silent

The next day, the main venue of the "Global Sustainable Development and Frontier Technology Forum."

The venue, capable of seating thousands, was packed to capacity, its atmosphere solemn yet electric. Top scholars, business magnates, government officials, and media reporters from around the world filled the hall; the air hummed with anticipation. All eyes were fixed on the empty podium at the center of the stage.

The most anticipated segment of the morning was Qin Feng's keynote address as the leader of the New Era.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight struck the entrance.

Qin Feng entered the hall slowly, accompanied by a group of staff and Su Wenqian. He still wore simple dark attire, his face expressionless, his steps steady—as if the countless curious, scrutinizing, reverent, even hostile gazes cast upon him were no more than air.

He stepped onto the podium and adjusted the microphone's height. The audience instantly fell silent, leaving only the faint click of camera shutters.

No pleasantries, no formalities—Qin Feng began his speech immediately, the title boldly displayed: "The Resource Cornerstone and Ethical Boundaries of Interstellar Civilization."

His voice, amplified clearly throughout the hall, was calm, detached, yet carried an undeniable authority.

"... Resources are the blood of civilization's survival and ascent. When our vision expands from planetary to interstellar scales, the definition and acquisition of resources must undergo fundamental reconstruction. Relying solely on the finite gifts of our homeworld will inevitably lead to depletion and internal stagnation. The true path lies in embracing the deep void, in mastering the ability to Drain nourishment from stars, from emptiness..."

He expounded on the New Era's concepts and practices in space resource exploration (omitting specific technical details), breakthroughs in materials science (mentioning the strategic significance of new materials such as Obsidian Type-C), and innovations in energy technology. No ornate rhetoric—only cold logic and fact-based deductions, painting a grand yet pragmatic blueprint for interstellar civilization.

Most of the audience, stunned by this vision beyond its time and the partial strength the New Era had already demonstrated, scribbled furiously, their eyes filled with deep thought.

Yet, dissonant notes still existed.

As Qin Feng spoke of "interstellar development cooperation needing to be built on technological sharing and risk-sharing, not the old models of plunder and dependence," a senior Academician from a traditional Western technological power—white-haired, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, seated in the front row—suddenly raised his hand. Without waiting for the host's permission, he stood up, his tone laced with clear skepticism and condescension:

"Mr. Qin, forgive my interruption. Your blueprint is... compelling. But permit me to say, your notion of 'Draining nourishment from the void' sounds more like a sci-fi trope. You and your New Era have indeed achieved some astonishing results—but to base these achievements on strict technological secrecy, even monopoly, is this not diametrically opposed to the 'sharing' spirit you just mentioned? Is this not a new form of technological hegemony? How can we trust an organization that refuses to open its core technologies to lead humanity toward so-called 'interstellar civilization'?"

His remarks immediately drew murmurs and nods from a small segment of the audience. Clearly, this voiced the sentiments of certain vested interests and conservative academic factions, attempting to publicly challenge Qin Feng.

The host and forum committee members exchanged uneasy glances, trying to intervene and regain control.

Below the stage, Su Wenqian's eyes turned cold; she prepared to signal her staff to act.

Yet Qin Feng, standing on the podium, faced this sudden, sharp, and rude challenge without so much as a furrowed brow.

He paused his speech, his gaze calmly fixed on the white-haired Academician—no anger, no defense, not even the usual solemnity one expects when confronting doubt.

His eyes held a pure, superior... indifference.

As if observing an insect that had accidentally landed at his feet and emitted a few noises.

Just as the Academician began to feel uneasy and the atmosphere in the hall grew tense, Qin Feng spoke.

His voice remained steady, yet carried an invisible, mountainous pressure that, through the microphone, drowned out every other sound in the hall:

"You are mistaken about one thing."

Not a rebuttal. Not an explanation. A direct assertion that the man's foundational understanding was wrong.

"I stand here," Qin Feng's gaze swept the entire hall; all those his eyes touched involuntarily held their breath, "not to seek your 'belief,' nor to prove the legitimacy of the New Era to you."

His tone carried an air of absolute, unshakable indifference.

"The path the New Era walks, the technologies it holds, the future it points to—they are established facts. It does not need, nor has it ever cared for, the approval or understanding of the old era's vested interests."

He refocused his gaze on the now-paling Academician, his voice still flat, yet each word like a hammer blow:

"Whether you believe, whether you accept—"

He paused slightly, then uttered three words:

"Irrelevant."

"..."

The entire hall fell utterly silent.

The Academician opened his mouth, as if to speak—but under Qin Feng's gaze, which seemed to pierce straight through his soul, not a single word emerged. His face shifted from pale to flushed, then he slumped back into his seat.

Qin Feng no longer looked at him, as if he had merely brushed away a speck of dust. He adjusted his breath, preparing to resume his speech.

Yet, in that profound silence, from another corner, a figure who appeared to be a reporter—unwilling to let it pass—suddenly stood up, raised his recording device, and shouted: "Mr. Qin! Regarding yesterday's protest outside your hotel, do you believe this reflects the international community's general concern over the New Era's technological monopoly? What is your response? Shouldn't you..."

He did not finish his sentence.

Qin Feng did not even glance at him. He merely frowned slightly, as if the repeated noise had grown tiresome.

He raised his hand—not toward the reporter, but toward the entire hall—in a gesture both simple and radiating infinite authority: palm downward, gently pressing.

No roar. No rebuke.

Only a single, crystal-clear, irrevocable will, spreading like invisible ripples with his motion.

"All,"

his voice was not loud, yet it resonated directly within the depths of every mind,

"be silent."

In an instant, the entire thousand-person hall became utterly still.

The standing reporter, as if strangled by an invisible hand, choked on his words, his face twisted in shock, and he sank back into his seat without a sound.

All whispers, all restlessness, all questioning glances—every disturbance—were forcibly suppressed and calmed by an invisible, immense force.

Within the hall, only Qin Feng's calm, unrippled voice remained, echoing as if carrying the ultimate truths of the universe.

He had made it clear, in his own way, to everyone present.

Here, the rules were his to make.

Noise was not permitted.