Chapter 401: One wave hasn't settled, another rises

The air vent of the president's office was blowing warm air outward.

Constant temperature at twenty-six degrees, the central system automatically adjusts; the White House's logistical support never makes a mistake.

But the North American United President's teeth were chattering.

Click-click-click-click. The frequency of the upper and lower tooth sockets colliding grew denser, and he couldn't control it himself. The shirt on his back was soaked through, cold sweat clinging the fabric to his skin, each breath feeling that icy layer of contact.

Sai Men crossed his legs, the eyeball atop his cane slowly turning half a circle, his gaze shifting from the president's face to the frame of the family photo on the desk.

"Right, you seem to have two daughters." Sai Men's tone was light as if chatting about the weather, "The older is fourteen this year, the younger just turned nine. The cake was strawberry-flavored, right? She posted a photo on social media, and it got quite a few likes."

The president's bite stopped.

It wasn't from relaxation; fear had reached a critical point, causing his muscles to spasm and lock up.

"You said you wanted to talk about the planet's future... what do you want?"

"Straight to the point, good habit." Sai Men drew a circle on the carpet with his cane, the eyeball following a full turn, "I want you to do one very simple thing——"

He extended a finger and pointed at the ceiling.

"Start a live broadcast."

"Global-scale."

The president's pupils constricted slightly.

"A live broadcast... what?"

"The truth." Sai Men bit the word lightly and slowly, his tongue tapping twice between his teeth, "Weird Domain, Weird Masters, Federal Weird Investigation Bureau, Global Weird Response Alliance——these little secrets you've been hiding."

"Tell the whole world everything."

The person behind the desk said nothing.

He stared at the two black eye holes on the mask, his mind's gears spinning wildly. A live broadcast? Releasing this to the public? The populace would go mad. Social order would collapse within hours——

"Impossible." The president's voice hoarse, but his tone hardened, "This is a matter of humanity's safety; making the information public would only create panic——"

Sai Men lightly tapped his cane on the carpet.

No sound.

But the frame of the president's family photo cracked.

The glass burst open from the middle, a crack running to the smiles of the two daughters, left and right, precisely slicing through their foreheads.

"Thirty seconds."

Sai Men crossed his legs again, resting his cane on his knee.

"When the countdown ends, either you have someone bring in the broadcast equipment."

"Or——"

He flicked the mask's jaw with his index finger, producing a clear tapping sound.

"I will take you, the entire presidential residence, and your two daughters into the glorious 'Gospel'."

"Although for my followers this is the utmost honor, I suppose President Mr. is probably unwilling, right?"

The president's hand was shaking.

His whole arm trembled from the shoulder down, and by the fingertips he could no longer control the amplitude.

He looked at the shattered family photo, saw the elder daughter's braces-bright smile split in two by the crack, and saw the younger daughter holding her birthday cake, cream on her nose, that innocent face.

"Twenty seconds." Sai Men began counting.

His voice was unhurried, even carrying a humming tune.

"Fifteen."

"Ten."

The president reached out and pressed the internal line phone on the desk.

"...... Bring the broadcast equipment to the Oval Office."

His voice trembled, each word forced out through clenched teeth.

"Top priority. All bands. Move it now."

The other end of the line stalled for two seconds.

"Sir, please confirm the priority——"

"You fucking don't understand human speech?!" The North American United President, this politician who always kept a dignified smile before the world, swore for the first time on an internal call.

"Move it!"

Sai Men clapped on the chair.

The applause wasn't loud, three even claps, like applauding a splendid curtain call in a theater box.

"Pleasant cooperation."

Seven minutes later.

Three broadcast-grade cameras were pushed into the Oval Office, the engineers' hands also shaking—they didn't know what had happened, only that the president's face was abnormally pale.

The moment the red light came on, the signal tapped into the Global Emergency Broadcast System.

North American Union, Federation, Bu Lie Dian...... all terminals connected to international communications satellites——same time, same image.

The president sat behind the desk.

The shirt's first button wasn't fastened, the collar askew. A trace of sweat on his forehead hadn't been wiped dry.

He remained silent before the camera for four seconds.

These four seconds were seen simultaneously by billions worldwide.

"I am the North American United President."

His voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat.

"Today I must tell you something...... you should have known this long ago."

Ghosts truly exist.

Supernatural forces truly exist.

There is a kind of human called the "Weird Controllers" who have already learned to wield this power.

In the frame, his eyeball shifted slightly to the right of the camera—there stood a figure in a dark‑red shirt, but the camera couldn't capture it.

And all of this has been tightly sealed by an organization called the Quanqiu Weird Yingduo Alliance. The Federal Weird Investigation Bureau is the core of that alliance. They use information control, military blockades and administrative measures to bury all the truth.

You've been kept in the dark.

Everyone.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Extraordinary power should not be monopolized by any government. Every citizen has the right to know the truth—and the right to choose their own future.

I am willing, on behalf of the North American Union, to disclose to all humanity the complete data on the Weird Domain, Weird, and the Weird Controllers.

He closed his lips after uttering the final word.

His eyes reddened, his complexion turned ashen.

The camera kept panning.

The whole world was watching.

Federation.

All social platforms collectively crashed forty‑seven seconds after the livestream began.

The servers overloaded; traffic surged to dozens of times the normal level within a minute. A backup node auto‑started, held for nineteen seconds, then also collapsed.

By the time the tech team restored access with emergency measures, the top fifty trending topics had already been completely overrun—

#GhostsAreReal#

#TheGovernmentIsLying#

#WhatAreWeirdControllers#

#IWantToEvolve#

#OpenWeirdDomainIWantSuperpowers#

The comment section was spamming so fast the naked eye couldn't discern individual messages.

Shit??? I was wondering why those cities were locked down so tightly, and it turns out it's this??

Supernatural power?! Evolution?! Damn, why the hell only they get it!

The Gospel Church is telling the truth! The Seed is real! They've always been speaking honestly!

Investigation Bureau, get out! Release all the data! We have the right to know!

This is hilarious—while the whole world evolves, I'm still grinding 996 brick‑moving, right? How about giving me a Seed too?

Three minutes.

From the start of the livestream to the complete loss of public opinion control, it only took three minutes.

Decades of worldwide resources poured into building Information Blockade, cognitive management, and social stability mechanisms—faced with a single livestream, they were no different from paper‑thin walls.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau Headquarters.

Director's Office.

Lord Wei's hand‑held celadon tea cup fell onto the table.

Tea spilled, soaking the three confidential files spread on the desk. Brown stains spread from the center of each page outward, blurring the two large red characters "Top Secret".

He didn't pick it up.

He stared at the large screen on the wall.

On the screen, the North American United President's face filled the entire frame. That sweat‑drenched visage, those evasive eyes, the words that only come out when someone points a gun at the back of one's head—Lord Wei understood it all.

The coerced.

But that doesn't matter.

What matters is that it was spoken. The whole world heard it. There's no taking it back.

No one spoke in the office. The duty staff officer stood at the doorway, not daring to breathe.

Lord Wei's gaze shifted from the screen to the tea‑soaked documents on the desk.

"Scavenger" operation's final report.

Three hundred ninety‑two names.

He had just dealt with a parasitic crisis that hollowed out the Investigation Bureau from within; before he could catch his breath, another wall collapsed outside.

No, it wasn't a wall.

It was the entire ceiling.

"Call L over."

His voice was flat.

The staff officer turned and ran out.

Eight thousand kilometers away.

North American United President's Oval Office.

The camera's red light went out.

The moment the signal cut, the President slumped onto the chair back, both arms hanging at his sides as if his bones had been pulled out.

His eyes were full of blood vessels, pupils dilated.

Engineers and security staff stared at each other, no one daring to speak first.

Seimen was still seated on the chair opposite the desk.

He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, unfolded it, and carefully wiped the surface of the eyeball perched atop his cane. The eyeball spun smoothly beneath the handkerchief, a perfect fit.

"Performance is passable." He commented, his tone laced with polite perfunctoriness.

It's a bit stiff, but considering your profession is politician rather than actor, I'd give this an eight.

The president didn't respond.

He didn't even have the strength to lift his head.

Sai Men folded the handkerchief neatly, slipped it back into his inner pocket, stood up, and smoothed his cuffs.

He walked to the side of the desk with his cane, and when he passed the family photo frame, he freed a hand and gently straightened the cracked frame.

"Rest assured, I keep my word."

"I won't touch your family."

The president didn't lift his head.

Sai Men didn't wait for his reply.

He walked to the center of the office and performed a standard Victorian hat‑tip in the air—bowing, his right arm tracing an arc, his spine bent at a textbook‑precise angle.

"Ladies and gentlemen."

He smiled and spoke to the empty air.

"The show has just begun."

His words faded away.

His body turned into black smoke starting from his toes, spreading sinuously along the carpet's pattern, crawling up the wall‑corner to the ceiling, slipping out through the chandelier's gaps, silently and soundlessly.

Three seconds later, the oval office was left with only a roomful of stunned staff and a president slumped in his chair, his shirt soaked through with sweat that could be wrung out.

Several hours later.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau headquarters.

Before Wei Gong, the screen split into forty‑eight panels.

Real‑time surveillance footage of forty‑eight core cities.

Each panel showed people.

Crowds poured out of residential buildings, subway stations, and office lobbies; the blue glow of phone screens lit their faces intermittently, and everyone was scrolling the same live‑stream replay.

Some held up handwritten signs; others smashed the roadside federal bulletin boards; still others gathered in the city square, shouting slogans whose words were indistinct.

Forty‑eight panels, forty‑eight cities, same moment, same loss of control.

L stood at the side, his face showing for the first time something akin to bewilderment, "... Director."

Wei Gong's expression was grave.

"I saw it."

"All the citizens of every core city nationwide—"

"They've all taken to the streets."