Chapter 451: London (6K)

Yin City time, 11:25 AM.

In the World Peace House office, Changsun Yao lay sprawled listlessly on a beige Lycra beanbag, idly tossing a bouncy ball in one hand.

The polyurethane (PU) bouncy ball bounced repeatedly between floor, walls, and ceiling, each time landing precisely back in Changsun Yao's hand.

The timing perfectly synced with the metronome's beat on the desk beside her.

Squeak.

The door pushed open from outside; You Anjian stepped in cautiously, as if drawing a sword, holding a bamboo food box: "Chairwoman, it's time for dinner."

The food box bore the label 【KMH Kenmaihua】—the largest chain restaurant on Louchai Street, staffed by top chefs from around the world.

"This is Unblemished Giant Crystalline Salt-Roasted Battle Axe Steak, this is Pandora Pterosaur Stir-Fried Lettuce, this is Mermaid Tear Boiled Bok Choy, this is Hylar Rice."

You Anjian lifted layer after layer of the food box; fragrant steam filled the room.

A trace of aroma was carried by the air conditioning to the outdoors, where the golden retriever beneath the neighboring small company's building suddenly stood up, drooling profusely.

"Mm, just set it down."

Changsun Yao waved lazily; the bouncy ball slipped from her hand, knocking over the Deathwing Nefarian figurine on the cabinet—but she didn't even turn her head, instead pulling out her phone and scrolling.

You Anjian clicked his tongue, exchanged a helpless glance with Tiegu and Ozaki Aozora, who were peeking nervously outside the office, silently placed the food box down, and left the room.

It had been four days since the Mystery Realm exploration mission ended, and Changsun Yao remained in an emo state.

Over these four days, the player forums had been roiling with undercurrents. The British authorities and the Special Affairs Bureau had nearly gone public with their conflict, opposing each other across multiple domains.

Including but not limited to patent lawsuits over magical artifacts, imposing exorbitant fines on multinational corporations, and surprise raids capturing spies long suspected.

The back-and-forth left ordinary players on the forum utterly baffled, completely unable to grasp what was happening.

Some KOL bloggers obsessed with keyboard politics wildly speculated, launching all sorts of theories, posting discussions, and even going live.

"Listen up, folks—this little England is definitely acting as America's vanguard, determined to break the 'China-Russia-Iran Triangle.'"

"Today we're doing a special: analyzing the political, economic, and military reasons behind Britain's full-scale surprise attack on us, and the possible aftermath. Viewers without money, send a fan light; those with money, upgrade to captain. Thanks, meow."

"Meanwhile, a group of British transcenders are out in the Killing Ground digging for treasure—today exploring here, tomorrow there. Who'd have thought? Your grandma's triangle basket! The Special Affairs Bureau fired a missile that instantly locked onto them and blew the pants right off these Lv15 transcenders."

Changsun Yao scrolled through these posts, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Including herself, the first, second, and third waves of players who had actually entered the Mystery Realm could vaguely guess part of the truth—and all remained silently in unspoken understanding.

Changsun Yao knew more of the hidden details, and her emotions were even more complex.

Back in the inverted Jin Zita, if Master Pi Fu hadn't suddenly released poison, she might truly have fused with Cai Anjie, leaping straight to Lv35 transcender status and gaining access to the Hidden Realm permissions.

Yet upon post-mission review, Master Pi Fu's intervention may have been right.

Even in the real world, organ transplants can trigger rejection reactions—and even alter a person's personality.

Merging with the residual soul of a demi-god was far too uncontrollable: at best, a rewritten personality; at worst, possession or parasitism.

Her own parents would never want her to permanently sacrifice herself to revive them.

Changsun Yao stared blankly at the ceiling when suddenly, her friend's communication chimed.

【Hello?】

The message came from Sanriyue, the white-haired girl with purple eyes and three eyes, who possessed divination abilities.

Changsun Yao paused, then replied: "Hello."

【World Peace House】 and 【The Navigator's Guild】 had collaborated frequently; she'd heard Sanriyue's name before and now knew her personally.

Sanriyue paused. "Um… do you know Master Pi Fu in the real world?"

"I do," Changsun Yao raised an eyebrow, suddenly wary. "Why?"

"It's like this—about four hours ago, Master Pi Fu came to me, provided names and birth dates, and commissioned me to divinate the exact locations of two British individuals."

Sanriyue said: "Just now, my intuition told me strong death energy is gathering around Master Pi Fu. But I can't reach him."

Four hours ago, in Britain.

Changsun Yao's expression froze; her upper body instinctively sat up, and she reflexively pulled down her contact list.

Four hours ago, Master Pi Fu's chat window had commissioned her as an information broker to provide a rough map of British official and civilian transcender deployments in London.

Including MI6, the Zhong Lou Mage's Guild, the Hellfire Superhuman Club, and others.

A suspicion surfaced in her mind; Changsun Yao asked without hesitation: "You haven't told anyone else about this, right?!"

"No," Sanriyue was startled by Changsun Yao's exclamation mark. "I've only told you."

"Good."

Changsun Yao's mind raced; she said solemnly: "Do nothing from now on. Forget this conversation. Pretend it never happened."

". I understand. Thanks for the warning."

The chat window closed. Changsun Yao stared blankly at the city's night view outside the window, her thoughts unable to settle for a long time.

The timid, almost destitute newbie she'd met in the apartment building had, at a speed she couldn't imagine, reached this point.

Awe, envy, melancholy—all present—but above all, profound reflection.

The Killing Ground is fair; the Infinite World holds infinite possibilities. Heaven moves strongly; the noble person strives without ceasing.

Her emo mood vanished; Changsun Yao leapt from the beanbag, cheerfully washed her face and brushed her teeth, then enjoyed the lavish meal.

Absentmindedly, she placed her phone atop a paper-folded bird, streaming the British nighttime news channel in real time.

She was waiting.

————

Yin City time, 11:30 AM.

London time, 4:30 AM.

In the city center, two kilometers north of the Taiwushihe.

Splash—

From the hotel room bathroom came the sound of a toilet flushing; moments later, a burly MI6 agent emerged, yawning.

The TV's SkySports channel was rebroadcasting a football match; in the cramped room, eight agents—men and women, including him—were crammed together.

Teams of special operatives were stationed in the adjacent room, the opposite room, a black SUV parked by the roadside, and even on one floor of the high-rise across the street.

All personnel were drawn from elite units of MI5, MI6, the Defence Intelligence (DI), and GCHQ, paired in teams of supernaturals and elite agents.

Such a massive operation was solely to protect a middle-aged woman at this very moment in the hotel room—disheveled hair, bloated figure, pale and exhausted—Sarah Tang Pusen.

She was Ange Tang Pusen, the former adoptive mother of Cai Anjie.

Amid the TV's background noise, Sarah lay listlessly on the bed, her eyelids slowly drooping shut.

The smart handcuffs on her wrists detected sleep and emitted a sharp alarm.

The female special operative beside her slapped Sarah without hesitation, shoved a white pill into her mouth, and forced her to swallow it with water.

The pill was sour, bitter, and astringent; Sarah coughed uncontrollably, pounding her chest.

"You can't sleep now,"

the short-haired female operative's face reflected in the mirror on the nightstand, her voice cold: "The Special Affairs Bureau is watching you. One of their players can kill through dreams."

"Just let me sleep, ma'am. Let me die, even."

Sarah's eyes were bloodshot; four days ago, she had just been acquitted by the London Criminal Court in a transnational adoption abuse case, thinking she could go home—only to be forcibly taken from the car and nearly "imprisoned" in this hotel room.

As for her husband, Jacob Tang Pusen, sentenced to six months in prison, his whereabouts were unknown.

Four days without sleep had left Sarah Tang Pusen utterly exhausted, but the operatives present were equally frustrated.

Sarah and Jacob could not be confined to Killfield Lane or MI6's headquarters in Killfield.

On one hand, Killfield Lane forbids players from harming each other, but not from harming non-players.

If sent to Killfield, Sarah and Jacob would still be hunted—possibly even killed more brutally, with no British civilians nearby to shield them.

On the other hand, during these four days of secret negotiations between British authorities and the Special Affairs Bureau, Britain had firmly insisted: "The light sentencing of the Thompsons is an act of judicial independence by the British criminal court, unrelated to Killfield's jurisdiction."

Sending them to Killfield would hand the Special Affairs Bureau justifiable grounds.

"Listen, you idiot."

The female operative named Chloe slapped Sarah again, reddening her sagging left cheek, her voice icy: "From the moment you stepped out of the courthouse, your life no longer belongs to you. Know your place."

"This is abuse! Illegal detention of a taxpayer! I'll get a lawyer! I'll expose you to the BBC!"

Sarah clutched her face, screaming and thrashing wildly, pounding the bed with her limbs.

But as Chloe snapped her fingers, an invisible force gripped Sarah's throat, lifting her into the air as she struggled desperately.

Only when her face turned purple and her vision darkened did the grip release, dropping her heavily onto the bed.

The bed groaned.

"." Sarah's face finally showed awe and terror—this was the second time she had witnessed supernatural power.

It brought back memories of the conspiracy theories that had flooded the internet.

Lizard people controlling the world through the Freemasons;

the Earth is flat;

5G towers are government mind-control devices;

"Now you're afraid?"

The burly male operative named Arthur sneered: "The adopted daughter you abused to death, Ange Tang Pusen, possessed supernatural power many times stronger than ours.

Imagine what would happen to you and your husband if she got her hands on you."

In an instant, horrific tortures flashed through Sarah Tang Pusen's mind; her face turned ashen, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

"So, cooperate properly—it benefits both you and us."

Arthur pulled out a Lambert&Butler cigarette from his pocket, stepped onto the balcony to smoke. Seeing Chloe follow, he casually handed her one.

At 4:30 a. m., the night sky's clouds spread like crumpled curtains; thunder rumbled endlessly across the horizon.

London glowed with neon; the streetlamps along the Taiwushihe emitted warm light, illuminating the brick pavement outside the corner café.

A block away, the music from Fabric nightclub drifted faintly; young men and women still queued outside, waiting to enter.

"Pfft,"

Arthur exhaled smoke, flicked ash with his finger, and asked casually: "By the way, what if the Special Affairs Bureau refuses to budge? Are we just going to keep imprisoning and feeding this couple forever?"

"The Special Affairs Bureau will budge. At least, they'll give up some concessions."

Chloe replied offhandedly: "Every day we delay, their uncertainty grows. If all else fails, we still have the final option."

"Final option?"

"Targeted detonation of Cai Anjie's personality."

Chloe gazed at the London Eye, standing like a harp three kilometers south along the Taiwushihe, and said calmly: "There's an old Eastern saying: 'A thief can steal for a thousand days, but guarding against him for a thousand days is impossible.'

Offense always surpasses defense.

Now we know Cai Anjie's identity and her address.

If, a month or a few months from now, the Special Affairs Bureau still refuses to compromise, we'll hack into or magically infiltrate the network of buildings near the Red Star Orphanage,

and broadcast on giant screens the footage and videos of Cai Anjie being abused and beaten by her adoptive parents.

Even if her memories were reset perfectly, such a psychological assault would very likely shatter her personality."

The female operative's voice remained flat, as if discussing eating or drinking: "According to Turing Department's projections, she has a 25% chance of self-annihilation, a 35% chance of spontaneous explosion, taking out several streets with her,

and a 40% chance of going berserk, attacking everything within her line of sight indiscriminately."

"At that point, the Special Affairs Bureau will have no choice but to eliminate Cai Anjie."

She paused, then added: "Of course, this is only a contingency plan. It's better not to go to war with the Special Affairs Bureau if we can avoid it."

Buzz! Buzz!

Before she finished speaking, both their phones vibrated violently.

A black-and-red information box filled the entire phone screen.

That was a future prediction from the Turing Department.

【Target: All Supranaturals within the United Kingdom】

【Alert Level: Crimson】

【Anomaly Fluctuation Index: 5000 points】

【Scope: Entire Lunduncheng】

【Affected Population: 8.5 million】

【Priority: Maximum】

【Estimated Arrival Time: 7 minutes】

【Likely Source Direction: Sky】

The sudden text message froze both of them in place.

The next second, they snatched their hands off the balcony railing, shoved open the floor-to-ceiling window, and rushed back into the hotel room.

Inside the room, all six other special agents' phones were ringing.

Everyone had received the same alert message.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Why is there a Crimson alert!"

"Could it be a false alarm?!"

Even the normally disciplined special agents were now panicked and disoriented.

Since the Arena's arrival, Crimson-level anomalies had occurred fewer than seventeen times. More than half were resolved by local national agencies or major guilds at tremendous cost.

The remaining incidents, which occurred in remote areas, were covered up by GOC-controlled media worldwide, dismissed as "falling meteorites."

As for the three most severe cases—one in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, one in India, one in Indonesia—they were accompanied by earthquakes and tsunamis, each causing over a million casualties.

Fortunately, internet infrastructure in those regions was underdeveloped, and the earthquakes and tsunamis helped conceal the true nature of the events.

This also inadvertently fueled environmental groups, who began promoting claims that global warming would trigger more natural disasters in the future.

In short, London's elite were still elite,

and the special agents present had never regarded civilians from Third World developing nations as equal human beings.

But the thought of such a horrific disaster erupting in prosperous London froze their hearts with ice-cold fear.

"Everyone, quiet!"

Chloe snapped, bringing order to the room.

She took a deep breath—seven minutes was far too short for London's civilians to evacuate, which was why the Turing Department had sent the alert only to Supranaturals.

They had not triggered London's air raid sirens.

At this moment, every wealthy elite in the city was likely awakened; royal family members would be guided by the Royal Affairs Office into top-tier spatial artifacts capable of sheltering ordinary people, fleeing into the Arena's reality for safety.

The Prime Minister and his wife would be dragged from bed by security personnel, using the Zhong Lou's teleportation gate to escape to Birmingham, 160 kilometers away.

The old-money and new-money families of Jin Rongcheng would either retreat into their heavily fortified family bunkers or drag their entire households onto helicopters, gambling with time.

Those with close ties to the Zhong Lou Guild would rush to seek shelter immediately.

They prayed that London's supreme mage lords, those lords among lords, would remember the past contributions of mortal billionaires and lend them a hand.

As for these unlucky special agents present—

"Don't panic. Follow Teshiju Sect's emergency protocol for attacks: head to the nearest underground shelter."

Chloe said without hesitation: "Follow me."

The group grabbed the bewildered Sarah Tang Pusen, smashed through the balcony glass, and leapt from the tenth floor.

Boom!

The shattering glass and thunderous impact stunned the young men and women still queuing outside Fabric nightclub.

The special agents ignored them entirely, sprinting straight toward the subway entrance.

Their leather boots crushed puddles on the sidewalk, grinding the neon reflections into shattered petals.

As they ran, some secretly pulled out personal phones to contact family and friends, urging them to hide or evacuate immediately.

Everyone has feelings—Chloe didn't order them to put their phones away; she wasn't so selfish as to assume others weren't.

Even as they charged into the subway entrance, bathed in cold fluorescent light, she remained stunned and confused—what kind of anomaly disaster could possibly affect the entire city of London?

Here stood dozens of guilds and factions—MI6, the Zhong Lou Mage Association, the Hellfire Supers Club, and more—

and beneath them lay underground shelters, built at Jin Rongcheng's colossal expense, specifically designed to withstand supranatural disasters.

Theoretically, they were impregnable.

————

London Time, 4:34 a. m.

Five minutes until disaster strikes.

In Bletchley Park, northwest London, the Turing Department—its secrecy rivaling Buckingham Palace—was in utter chaos.

This was Britain's most vital codebreaking center during World War II, where mathematician Alan Turing pioneered the "Turing Bombe" decryption device, dramatically improving efficiency.

Turing was gone, but in the manor stood a massive, ancient electro-mechanical machine.

Its name: 【The Imitation Game】—Epic-tier, capable of glimpsing the past, predicting the future, even more accurately than the Navigator Guild's prophecies.

"Damn it! Someone tell me—what is the origin, exact form, and possible outcome of this anomaly disaster!"

The Turing Department's director shouted from the second floor; his communication interface was flooded with demands from powerful figures seeking more information.

Some demanded sternly, others pleaded, some threatened, others bribed.

Everyone knew how terrifying a Crimson-level supernatural event was—perhaps they might survive the catastrophe, but all their assets in the city would vanish.

The director's roar echoed through the manor, answered only by the steady, rhythmic clack-clack of the Turing Machine punching holes.

"Um. Sir."

A young Black woman, trembling, raised a sheet of paper covered in holes (this was the deduction result output by 【Imitation Game】) in her hand. "For some unknown reason, the anomalous disaster source reported two times and locations.

One is five minutes from now, North 51°30', East 51.8°, Akmola Region in northern Kazakhstan.

One is 4.7 hours ago, Western Pacific, North 30°."

Western Pacific, North 30°—isn't that Yin City?

The head of the Turing Department froze at the words, then, like a duck with its neck gripped, rasped out in a shrill voice: "Contact Yin City's Special Affairs Bureau immediately. Verify the situation with them.

Contact the Global Occult Coalition's Asia-Pacific branch, request intelligence support."

"Sir!"

Another Turing Department employee stood up at his workstation. "The GOC people just contacted me. After receiving the crimson alert, they urgently re-examined the imagery captured by near-Earth orbital monitoring satellites worldwide over the past 24 hours,

and used an AI program to retroactively search for image data that might be problematic. In the end, they found this.

Taken 4.7 hours ago, off the coast of Yin City, in the open ocean."

That employee projected the footage into the air of the manor's great hall.

A tiny black speck could be seen, suspended above the ocean's surface. Due to the lack of reference objects, its specific volume could not be well estimated.

There were several dozen frames of footage, playing in sequence.

The blurry black speck seemed to be waiting for something. When a whale surfaced and drifted close to it, it even "gently" patted that whale.

It only returned to its original position after the whale plunged back into the sea.

In the second-to-last image, the black speck vanished into thin air.

In the final image, the entire ocean surface tore open like an undersea volcanic eruption, sending monstrous waves surging upward.

The manor's great hall fell into dead silence. The head took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the railing white to the point where no blood could be seen. "What is this?"

"A person."

That employee swallowed, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "A person who flew at the speed of light, who 4 hours ago shot up from sea level straight into near-Earth orbit 400 kilometers away. A person."