Chapter 98: The Law of the New Nation Cannot Be Changed

After a series of twists, Fang Can ultimately did not send his brain away, and it remained lodged inside his skull.

As for storing one’s brain, it was perfectly normal—just as reasonable as an ordinary person storing their own arm, truly not insane at all.

Even if the girl lost it later, he could simply grow another one—after all, it could be retrieved and used at will.

As long as he cleaned his brain thoroughly, he wouldn’t mind lending it out.

Returning to his bedroom, Fang Can gazed at the faint starlight outside the window, his brow slightly furrowing—as if he had forgotten something.

After careful thought, his eyes suddenly widened—where were those psychics?

From the start of the battle to its end, there had been no trace of those people at all—so where had they gone?

“The Carnival Day is over; we return to normal.”

With a flash of light, Qu Hua and his squad returned to the Main God Space.

“Captain, we’ve hit the jackpot!” the girl beside him exclaimed excitedly:

“We killed at least three thousand rioters, earning thirty thousand reward points total.”

“And those lone Lunhuizhe who fled after being crushed by Fang Can—we picked up three heads, each worth three thousand reward points and three C-rank subplots.”

Hearing Li Qiyu’s words, the other squad members were swept with excitement—since entering the Lunhui , they had never had such an easy, effortless mission.

But they knew this victory came entirely because the remaining four squads chose to besiege Fang Can.

If those people had scattered first and fought in multiple locations, they wouldn’t have been wiped out.

Thinking of it this way, Fang Can was an excellent leg to cling to.

“Everyone, rest up individually. We’ll formally discuss enhancements tomorrow afternoon,” Qu Hua said with a smile.

“As for the intelligence from this Fuben , I’m sure other Lunhui squads will be very interested,” Qu Hua said, and the others nodded in agreement.

Unlike the Original Infinity, according to high-level Lunhuizhe , the worlds they traversed were real, tangible dimensions.

The so-called plots were merely coincidences, like monkeys typing randomly—perhaps superficially matching the story, but the hidden 90% beneath the surface remained unknown.

Since these were real worlds, they could not be experienced multiple times; later Lunhuizhe could only enter worlds previously explored and altered by others.

Thus, intelligence provided by earlier Lunhui squads became crucial, helping them avoid many risks.

“I’m sure the subsequent details of Carnival Day won’t be missed by the squads behind us—after all, this involves a multiverse worldview,” Qu Hua said.

“Should we go back?” Li Qiyu hesitated. “That world probably has many things worth developing.”

“What are you thinking? It’s too dangerous. Going once was already enough—going back again is asking for death?”

One of the Lunhuizhe snapped irritably, when suddenly a panicked scream erupted beside him: “Holy shit, Main God, what the hell is this humanoid wish machine? When did we get infected with the meme?”

Hearing their teammate’s words, the Lunhuizhe turned pale—those who read literature knew well what a meme was.

They each opened their Main God interface, and clearly listed in the attributes section was the term: “Humanoid Wish Machine Meme.”

“We’re screwed,” several Lunhuizhe groaned, pressing their palms to their foreheads—this meme wasn’t anything good; it was infinitely contagious.

Everyone they contacted from now on would become carriers of the meme, then be projected by the Main God into other worlds to infect one world after another.

If it were only that, it might be bearable—just a term appearing above their heads.

But if some multiverse-level Dalao ever got infected with the meme, and out of curiosity reached out with an invisible hand to grasp every carrier, then everything would become a nightmare.

According to other Lunhuizhede accounts, their Main God Space was no longer first-generation—it had been updated countless times, with countless waves of Lunhuizhe dead, several of which had perished exactly like this.

But the Main God Space was ironclad; the Lunhuizhe were but flowing water.

Each time the Main God Space was destroyed, it endured—and still relentlessly flung Lunhuizhe into the myriad worlds, as if its very design demanded it.

The Main God Space didn’t care whether they got infected with memes—but other Lunhuizhe did.

To avoid being killed by Dalao later, this disaster-inducing contagion mechanism would draw the entire Lunhui space’s attention.

“Captain, what do we do now? We’re infected with the meme,” Li Qiyu said, voice trembling with tears.

“Should we report it?” a teammate asked shakily.

“Report what? We’re a trash Lunhui squad—if we report it, we’re just waiting to die, at best getting a little compensation.”

Qu Hua gritted his teeth, his expression dark: “The bold live, the timid starve—we spread the meme immediately.”

“Before those Dalao react, infect at least half the Lunhuizhe in the Main God Space—under the massive cost of eliminating them, they won’t think of simple slaughter, but of how to purge the meme.”

“Fuck, entering that world was the worst luck in eight generations—we got stuck with this damn thing, fucking hell,” Qu Hua’s demeanor shattered—he swore violently, then his face hardened:

“Start with the weakest Lunhuizhe —slowly infect them. After infecting them, tell them they’re contaminated. If they don’t want to be erased by the Dalao above, they must keep spreading it.”

“Yes, Captain,” the men didn’t dare delay—survival demanded speed; the longer they waited, the greater the chance of exposure—and exposure meant death.

Moments later, the Lunhui squads dispersed one by one, preparing to unleash a “Meme Version of Biohazard” across the entire Main God Space.

Fortunately, only their squad returned alive—if more squads had survived, differing decisions might have immediately exposed their identities.

Meanwhile, in the main world, following Ji Donglai’s orders, the entire New Nation mobilized.

Late at night, in the mansion of B City’s richest man, a phone rang instantly. Upon answering, the servant’s expression tightened, and he hurried into the bedroom to report to the tycoon.

“What is it?” Wang Hu rubbed his bleary eyes, his tone harsh—why disturb him at this hour?

“Boss, it’s a call from above,” the servant said nervously.

At these words, Wang Hu leapt from bed, forgetting to put on his shoes, and rushed forward to snatch the phone, his voice trembling:

“Ah, I’m here! What orders do you have? If you need anything, I’ll serve you as your ox or horse.”

“Dad, can you talk to me normally? It’s been over a decade—why can’t you change?” the psychic on the other end sighed wearily.

“Ah, you’re right, son—this is my fault. I’ll slap myself later. But the law of the New Nation cannot change—I dare not overstep,” Wang Hu replied with utmost reverence.

(End of Chapter)