Chapter 143: Creating the Weird Weird

The pitch‑black vortex opposite Jack was twisting and rotating at a Weird frequency.

A moment later.

An antiquated porcelain bottle was suddenly "spat" out of the vortex, landed on the stale tabletop, and let out a muffled "thud."

The bottle was half an arm tall, wholly opaque, its surface etched with incomprehensible, twisted and chaotic patterns, like countless wailing faces pressed together.

Jack's drunkenness was drained completely in that instant.

He stared fixedly at the bottle, his heart pounding wildly.

It… it was actually real!

It really appeared!

A moment later.

He trembled, pulled a napkin from the bar, borrowed a pen, and scribbled a line of text crookedly.

"I want ten million dollars, transferred immediately!"

He crumpled the paper into a ball and nervously shoved it into the bottle's mouth.

The paper ball vanished.

Nothing happened.

Jack's heart sank, and a self‑deprecating smile spread across his face.

The next instant.

"Bzz—"

His phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.

Jack listlessly pulled out the phone.

On the screen was an SMS notification from the bank.

【Dear customer, your account ending xxxx received a transfer on Dec 30 23:21, amount: $10,000,000.00, current available balance: $10,019,218.52.】

Jack's breath halted.

His eyes widened further as he repeatedly checked the string of zeros, fearing he'd misread one.

One second.

Two seconds.

"Ha… ha ha ha!!"

A rapturous, manic laugh burst from his throat, echoing through the bar and causing nearby patrons to frown and glance sideways.

Yet, at the peak of his euphoria,

the Wish Bottle standing silently on the table, at its mouth, silently … "spat" out a tiny, neatly stacked slip of paper.

Jack froze for a moment, puzzled, and picked up the slip.

He unfolded the slip.

The writing looked as if penned in fresh blood, exuding a metallic scent.

【Price: the fresh blood of ten thousand living people.】

Jack's smile froze instantly.

Chu Che's fingertips brushed lightly through the void.

What floated before his eyes was Jack's face in the Zhi Jia Ge bar, shifting from ecstasy to terror.

"How interesting…"

He mused obsessively, pushing up his gold‑rimmed glasses.

What had transpired in this short span was truly spectacular.

First came Dongdao's Laughing Demon.

That wasn't the Weird he had set, but rather an accidental creation.

It was fashioned from Lingmu Jianer's second personality as material, yielding a "Wish Ghost" — formally "Wish Weird Talk" — which in turn spawned a second‑tier urban legend.

He set a simple rule for the Wish Weird Talk: it could grant any wish, but only in a Weird, terrifying manner that harvested the most karma.

Lingmu Jianer wished for Dongdao's destruction.

Thus, the Wish Weird Talk created the Laughing Demon as a perfect piece of art.

— a World-Destruction Level legend that would spread infinitely if left unbounded.

The deaths of billions on Dongdao turned into an unimaginable, colossal amount of karma, not only feeding the Laughing Demon to a terrifying degree but also reflecting that power back to its source, the Wish Weird Talk.

The Wish Weird Talk grew stronger.

Although Chu Che didn't directly craft the Weird, he couldn't reap that massive karma.

But…

Chu Che spread his palm.

He could clearly feel the invisible link between himself and the Wish Weird Talk.

Its power was his own power.

Or rather, the power he bestowed upon it.

A thought flickered.

The space above his palm began to warp, particles in the air forced to coalesce and recombine by an unseen force.

A P226 handgun, flashing with metallic cold light, materialized in his hand.

The magazine was full.

The safety was already disengaged.

Chu Che lifted the gun, pulled the slide, and the sound of the round chambering rang crisp and pleasant.

The smile at the corner of his mouth grew ever gentler.

This is the power of "Wish".

Creating things out of thin air.

His former self was like a diligent farmer, having to personally seek suitable resentful souls, personally "cultivate", edit, and deploy.

The efficiency was too low.

The Mutation of "Wish Paradox" let him see another road.

A path with higher efficiency: the "Path to Divinity".

He need not go on the front lines himself, repeatedly consuming "Karma" to create Weird.

What he must do is create a Divine Envoy.

By carefully selecting and spending a sufficient amount of Karma in a single go, he creates a Weird that can autonomously capture materials and generate Weird.

It's like a programmer writing a piece of AI code that can learn and reproduce by itself.

Thus, he can completely bypass the troublesome step of "seeking resentful souls" and achieve exponential growth in power.

He will sit high in the Divine Realm, observing the Divine Envoy he created, harvesting countless Karma.

And he only needs to sit back and enjoy the results, awaiting the final fruit.

"It's time to conduct further experiments."

Chu Che's gaze turned toward the opposite side of the world map.

He needs new material.

A material that is distinct and of an entirely new category.

Meanwhile.

North American Union, San Andreas Port.

A luxury cruise ship named Haiyang Ningjing Hao is quietly moored at the Port.

The ship is brightly lit, with faint strains of melodious music drifting out, and a grand departure party sailing toward the Sand Nation is about to begin.

A young man in a crew uniform leans against the rail, idly scrolling his phone.

On the screen, an account called Dr. Chu's Medical Mini‑Science just posted a new video.

"Myocardial ischemia? Don't worry, three tricks to help you emergency self‑rescue......"

The young man curled his lip and swiped past.

He didn't know.

This cruise ship, a symbol of wealth and pleasure, has borne a filthy secret since its inception.

A massive conspiracy is quietly brewing beneath the sea.

The North American Union wants to wage war on the resource‑rich Sand Nation, but lacks an excuse that can silence the whole world.

Thus, this ship became the perfect sacrifice.

A group of bribed spies had long disguised themselves as crew members and infiltrated.

They will stage an "accident", an incident of being "attacked" by Sand Nation torpedoes.

Using the lives of an entire ship's innocents to ignite a war with a justifiable pretext.

The politicians' self‑orchestrated dirty game will drag thousands of reveling tourists into the same fate.

Late at night.

Inside the massive engine room of Haiyang Ningjing Hao, heat waves rolled.

A maintenance worker unscrewed the inspection hatch, looked around, confirmed no one was present, then carefully took a micro‑explosive pack from his toolkit and skillfully installed it at the fragile joint of a pipe.

Afterward, he pulled out a battered metal shell and jammed it into the adjacent gap.

On that shell, an Arabic inscription clearly displayed the Sand Nation military's weapon serial number.

Having finished, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, rechecked the micro‑diving suit hidden in the corner, and let a cold smile curl his lips.

Inside the Chuangzhang Shi.

The silver‑haired captain was reading a weather report that had just arrived.

The report indicated that for the next twenty‑four hours, the route would be calm and smooth, a clear passage.

He nodded with satisfaction, setting the course to the system‑recommended optimal path, completely unaware that its endpoint led straight into the eye of a storm.

Meanwhile, on the upper Jiabǎn.

The grand party had already begun.

Men and women in lavish evening gowns raised champagne and danced exuberantly under the dazzling lights.

Music, laughter, and clinking glasses merged into a sea of decadence.

No one noticed.

The steel behemoth beneath their feet was carrying them at full speed toward an Abyss woven from lies, conspiracies, and death.