Chapter 84: Deceiving Heaven, Altering Fate (Complete)

Lightning, classified by location, can be divided into cloud-to-cloud and cloud-to-ground. The former is the discharge process between charged centers within a cloud and oppositely charged centers in the surrounding atmosphere—the multiple lightning bolts seen flickering through clouds during thunderstorms, high in frequency but low in intensity, and muffled by cloud cover, their thunder rapidly attenuating or even becoming inaudible.

The latter is the discharge process between cloud and ground—the lightning striking the earth. In this process, the narrow lightning channel releases immense electrical energy, generating a powerful shockwave that produces a deep, rumbling thunder.

With the aid of a three-dimensional lightning location system, not only can the latitude and longitude coordinates of cloud-to-ground strikes be determined, but their three-dimensional development trajectory can also be precisely tracked, enabling the mapping of sound wave propagation patterns in three-dimensional space.

Thanks to Wudun Town's geographical advantage, Li Cheng pulled out two cell phones—one to call Cervantes, the other to contact Yuan Zhixia.

The Special Affairs Bureau monitored the calls in real time, using local weather surveillance and a supercomputer system to calculate Cervantes' approximate location based on the intensity, delay, and echo frequency of several cloud-to-ground thunderclaps. Accuracy was under one kilometer in radius.

For safety, Li Cheng also fired shots in that direction and activated the title skill 【Dead Gambler】, obtained during his last routine mission, draining his 200+ sanity points down to just 30 to increase the probability of the event "bullet hits Cervantes."

The mountain villa was too far from Wudun Town for bullets to reach—but under the subtle influence of the title skill's unseen effect, the bullet trajectories shifted slightly, veering closer to Cervantes' position.

Combined with the Special Affairs Bureau's positioning, the range could be narrowed again to a radius of one hundred and fifty meters.

At this distance, the Special Affairs Bureau had sufficient grounds to activate a barrier and locate Cervantes.

Li Cheng put away both phones, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned back toward the bamboo grove.

In the guesthouse in Wudun Town, a group of burly men in black suits kicked open the suite's security door, guns trained on Cervantes at the computer desk.

"Put down your phone!"

"Raise your hands!"

"Don't move!"

These men in black suits belonged to the Special Affairs Bureau's Mobile Task Force, composed of both Chosen and ordinary soldiers. The firearms they carried were custom-made by the Bureau's R&D and logistics division—disguised as briefcases in daily use, they unfolded into rugged, clumsy and heavy weapons at the press of a button.

Their magazines loaded anti-magic armor-piercing rounds capable of ignoring most energy shields, magical barriers, and armored shells, dealing considerable damage even to mid-tier players.

At the same time, the whirring of rotor blades echoed outside the window—several medium-sized multi-rotor drones, equipped with anti-psionic field devices, hovered in midair, blocking all attempts to send friend requests, log into the Arena, or teleport.

"Are you Cervantes of the Laughing Troupe?"

The lead man in black stepped inside, sneering: "Name: Du*Zhi, gender: male, born December 8, 1999, residence: ** Hao, Cuntan Street, JB District, Chongqing, ID number: 500105."

Fuck, shit!

Cervantes' expression twisted into something wildly complex, losing all the earlier calm and delight of manipulating others' fates—he raised both hands obediently. "Look, I'm a core member of the Laughing Troupe. I've got plenty of vital intel. And I notified my guildmates before coming to Wudun Town—if I vanish without explanation, they'll react. They won't just sit idle."

Click.

The Mobile Task Force agents, without hesitation, slapped handcuffs on Cervantes and yanked him to his feet.

Cervantes never considered resisting. Beyond the guns aimed at him and the anti-psionic drones outside, he felt a cold, merciless gaze—some unseen presence watching everything in the room.

At least Level 35. No—Level 38, even Level 40. A transcendent was observing.

Escape was impossible. Resistance meant death.

"Laughing Troupe, huh? Looking for fun, huh? Take him away!" The black-suited man waved his hand. Cervantes was dragged downstairs, a sack thrown over his head, and shoved into an armored vehicle.

————

At the same moment, in the Arena, Filthy Alley. Inside a shabby factory, the Laughing Troupe held their gathering.

Unlike other guild meetings, which were serious and formal, the Laughing Troupe's flat organizational structure—without hierarchy—created a casual, everyday atmosphere.

Near the bare concrete walls stood several tables; people played mahjong, battled landowners, and gambled at Texas Hold'em—some smoked, some drank; one guy had a hair curler behind him, and he didn't stop curling his hair.

Five or six burly men squeezed onto a broken sofa, engrossed in watching Tom and Jerry on TV.

Nearby, a group of young men and women in psychiatric ward uniforms studied and shared books like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Mathematical Foundations of Quantum Mechanics, and White Night, Walk!

In the corner, two childlike figures with immortal aura played a card game they'd invented themselves.

"My turn. Activate Fusion Magic: fuse the Hawkeye Clint Barton and Black Widow Natasha Romanoff on the field to summon the Avengers' Hulk—Level 7, Attack 2700, Defense 1800. Hehe, your life is a candle in the wind."

"Heh, my turn. Activate Ritual Magic: use the material Shapo Lang Wu Jing to ritual-summon China Captain Wu Jing, then equip him with the Equip Magic Card 【Navigator International Space Station】, transforming him into the Jupiter Destroyer Liu Peiqiang from Planet Earth: Drifting—Attack over 3500, utterly crushing your Hulk. The one who loses is you!"

The scene was chaotic, a carnival of demons. If this were the real world, the landlord would've shown up with a spotlight to inspect the property damage.

The only consistent thing? Everyone wore masks—the Laughing Troupe considered themselves unique, their members proudly calling themselves great scientists, great musicians, great dancers, great playwrights, great engineers, celebrities, great writers, rebel leaders, great directors.

Their masks included, but were not limited to: Einstein, Beethoven, Gandhi, Lu Xun, Tolstoy, Napoleon, and more.

By the way, though the Laughing Troupe adored dark humor, loved causing chaos, and treated human lives as worthless, their standards for what counted as "fun" were extremely strict.

Randomly killing someone on the street? Neither dark nor funny—similar scenes happen daily in real-world chaos zones. Too tasteless. Not fun enough.

Find a middle-aged office drone. Get him fired by his company. Have his elderly parents admitted to the ICU needing a huge sum. Have his wife sink into a pyramid scheme and secretly mortgage their home. Have his children addicted to online gambling, owing hundreds of thousands, with harassing calls pouring in.

Just as he's plunged into despair, he discovers his lottery ticket won millions. As joy surges, a sudden gale blows the ticket away—he chases it desperately through high-speed traffic, risking his life. Now that's fun.

The Laughing Troupe's creed: You can have no morals, but you must have taste.

"Boss! Bad news!"

A player wearing a Kennedy mask (with a chunk missing from the top-left corner) rushed in and shouted to the guild master wearing a black-and-white clown mask: "Cervantes was captured by the Special Affairs Bureau!"

"Huh?"

The guild master, seated at his computer playing Minesweeper, didn't move his body—his head rotated 180 degrees to look at his subordinate. "Didn't I tell him to go to Yin City to look for clues about that hidden chamber?"

"He went, but midway he went off to pursue his side gig—fabricating human tragedies for fun. Got caught by the Special Affairs Bureau."

The Kennedy-masked player scratched his head. "Boss, what do we do now? His inventory's got 'that thing.'"

"What do we do? Let it be!"

The guild master rolled his eyes. "He knows too many secrets. He's still valuable. The Special Affairs Bureau won't harm him anytime soon. If things get desperate, after we resolve the Yin City matter, we'll kidnap one of their key members and trade for him."

For now, we just hope he can withstand their interrogation."

The guild master clasped his hands together, praying for Cervantes. Everyone else in the room followed suit, chanting in unison: "Hope he's alright."

(End of Chapter)