Chapter 281: Fool's Gate

The rain in Jiang Hai City stopped.

That downpour that almost swept the whole city into the sewer finally lost momentum.

Chu Che sat in a genuine‑leather sofa, holding a cup of red tea still steaming. The room had no lights, only the neon glow filtering through the floor‑to‑ceiling window, barely outlining the profile of his side face.

It was very quiet.

That post‑storm dead silence actually made one's eardrums throb.

A semi‑transparent panel that only he could see floated in front of him.

【Weird Editor】

"Brilliant."

Chu Che lightly sipped the red tea; the temperature was just right, not scalding.

He raised his hand, his fingertips gently sweeping through the void as if parting an invisible spider web. The playback froze at the moment Ouyang Feng transformed into that massive White Bone Heart.

At that moment, the Federation's Strategic Nuclear Strike Command had already been issued.

Chu Che's voice was soft, echoing in the empty living room, "If that adolescent delusion hadn't rewound time......"

He nudged the Gold Thread Glasses on his nose bridge. The lenses reflected, shielding the almost‑cold rationality in his eyes.

Many people think nuclear bombs are a cure‑all. But before the Weird rules, physical laws are a joke. That White Bone Heart has already evolved the trait of devouring energy.

Nuclear blast?

It's just a lavish buffet, that's all.

Later, radiation mixed with resentment will spawn an even more terrifying monster. That is the true apocalypse.

"Humanity..."

Chu Che set down the teacup; its porcelain base clinked against the table, producing a crisp "tap", "Always walking the tightrope."

He stood, walked to the floor‑to‑ceiling window. Below, the city lights shone brightly; the survivors of the disaster were still celebrating, still cheering.

They didn't know that just a few hours earlier, Death had already poised its scythe at their throats, a micrometer away from cutting down.

This sense of fragility led Chu Che to think humanity was still far too weak.

Even if granted power that barely matches the Weird, they would still meet self‑destruction through their own desire, stupidity and curiosity.

Like a baby given a handgun.

And he does not wish to destroy the world.

He is a doctor.

A doctor's vocation is to pull patients back from the gate of the underworld, not push them into the crematory.

Though, to cure, sometimes one must cut away rotten flesh, even saw off a few bones.

"The so‑called 'Federation Former Ace' is nothing but a failure."

Chu Che gave the diagnosis. Not only a failure, it almost smashed the operating table.

This is the consequence of handing uncontrollable power to an out‑of‑control person.

"There are too many such variables."

Chu Che stared at his reflection on the window glass. That face, warm and jade‑like, looked like a just‑off‑work university professor, harmless to both man and beast.

He knew clearly he could no longer remain merely a spectator.

Previously he thought he only needed to sit behind the scenes, toss the Weird like fish bait, then watch humanity struggle, evolve, develop antibodies.

But the current situation has gone off track.

From now on, the variables that could lead to world destruction will only increase, rather than each crisis of annihilation coincidentally having a savior.

When that time comes, to prevent the extinction of human civilization, he can only intervene personally.

But then... humanity would realize that a "God" exists in this world.

It is God steering all this, God watching human suffering with indifference.

This would drive humanity into despair. Lying flat. Even... plunge into deeper civil strife, intensifying self‑destruction.

And to prevent such outcomes later, he must create a stage character that seems unrelated to "God", yet actually serves as a Proxy of divine will.

To keep humanity from becoming too complacent, and also from falling into the abyss of destruction.

A role that belongs neither to humanity nor entirely to the Weird.

A character who can repeatedly leap between black and white, muddle the waters, yet at a crucial moment kick a capsizing ship back on course.

This character must be strong enough to ignore most rules.

This character must be crazy enough that no one can anticipate his next move.

Then the masses will regard him as a mad Apostle rather than a deity.

Chu Che turned and returned to the study.

This time, he does not intend to create the Weird.

He intends to create a... duplicate.

Countless black currents converged in the room, like innumerable slithering black snakes. They tangled, wove, reassembled. Bones grew, flesh filled, nerves laid out.

All steps were completed in an instant.

It was a humanoid.

Standing 1.85 meters tall, slender, proportions perfect as if a CG model.

That face...

Was identical to Chu Che's.

But that wasn't enough.

Chu Che looked at this eyes‑closed "self", his brow slightly furrowed. Too similar, so similar it became boring.

"Need to add something."

He waved his hand. A wisp of gray mist appeared out of nowhere, the purest chaos and disorder.

"Since you're my Proxy, don't be so proper."

"I've got enough rationality as it is."

"You just take care of… the mischief."

The mist pierced the forehead of the body. The lifeless body suddenly trembled.

Immediately after, Chu Che pulled open the drawer beside him. Inside lay a Mask.

Dark gray, material unknown, like some stone polished, yet with a metallic sheen.

The Mask was simple—no mouth, no nose, only the eye sockets, two pitch‑black hollows.

"Put it on."

Chu Che ordered.

The body slowly opened its eyes.

They were a pair of… pure red eyes. No whites, no pupils, just a swirling sea of blood, full of brutality, mockery, and a madness that makes one want to vomit at a single glance.

The body lifted a hand, stiffly took the Mask, and without hesitation snapped it onto its face.

Click.

The Mask seemed alive; the moment it touched skin it clamped down tightly, sealing perfectly, even the crisp sound of bones being squeezed could be heard.

The deep gray contrasted sharply with the pristine Doctor's Lab Coat.

"How does it feel? 'I'."

Chu Che leaned against the table, arms crossed, as if appraising a freshly fired piece of art.

The masked man shifted his neck. His cervical vertebrae cracked loudly. He lowered his head, glanced at his palm, then looked up at Chu Che.

The red eyes curved. Though the Mask hid his face, the overflowing smile could not be concealed.

"Feeling?"

The man's voice rang out, identical to Chu Che's, even the timbre perfectly replicated, but the tone was entirely different.

Chu Che's speech was always steady, calm, with a hint of gentleness.

This man's voice carried a hook, a flippant "I'm just here for the show" lightness, and a nervousness ready to draw a blade at any moment.

"It feels like… just escaped from a mental hospital, haven't had time to take the meds yet."

The man exaggeratedly spread his hands, even spun a circle on the spot, the hem of his Doctor's Lab Coat fluttering.

"'I', this body is decent, quite durable."

Chu Che ignored his ramblings.

"Name."

The man halted, tilted his head, thought for a moment. He extended his index finger and pointed at the Mask on his face.

"Since 'I' am the director behind the scenes, then I am the clown on stage."

"In this absurd world, only fools can see the truth."

"Let's call… Sai Men."

"Simon."

"Sounds like the kind of bastard who tells jokes at a funeral."

Chu Che gave a slight smile, nodded, "Good name."

In truth he didn't care about the name; he cared about the function.

"Your task is simple."

Chu Che walked up to Sai Men; the two were the same height, but their auras were completely opposite.

One embodied absolute stillness. The other, utter chaos.

"Go stir things up."

Chu Che extended his hand, gently tidied Sai Men's slightly disheveled collar, his motion as tender as an old father's.

"Don't let humans die."

"Nor let them live joyfully."

"I want to see… evolution."

Sai Men's red eyes shone terrifyingly, "What a delightful job, I can't wait."

Chu Che pinched his chin.

Sai Men was actually a fragment of his own consciousness, magnified in certain personality aspects, but essentially still him.

Aha… so I actually have this playful side?

Chu Che merely snapped his fingers.

In the void, a black suit materialized out of thin air, along with a deep‑red shirt.

And a staff, its tip set with a still‑beating eyeball.

"Try it on. It should suit you well, Sai Men."

"Tonight is a fine weather."

"Go greet this world."

"My... Fool."