Chapter 541: King of the Seven Eyes

A few weeks later.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau, Senior Executive conference room.

The conference room is located several hundred meters underground.

The walls embed three layers of cognitive shielding material, twelve rule anchor pins are buried at the four corners, and even the lights have been specially treated so that no Shadow can be left for Weird parasites to inhabit.

Yet today, the people sitting here still feel a tightening in their backs.

It's not because of cold.

It's because of the photos on the large screen.

First photo.

Eastern Europe, code‑named "Ghost Lung," an A Ji Weird Controller, died at a private manor.

The corpse knelt before the fireplace, its chest opened, and the parasitic Weird "Insomnia Lung" inside vanished.

Second photo.

North American Union, Strategic Assets Office consultant, mid‑stage A Ji Weird Controller, code‑named "Red Dog."

Died in an underground arena.

The skull was hung on the arena's gate, the Fierce Ghost inside was stripped away, and a dark‑red crown mark remained on site.

Third photo.

Southern Frontier coastal defense line, a Quasi‑A Ji Weird Controller, was ambushed while transporting Weird equipment.

At that time, the Quasi‑A Ji Weird Controller was about to privately fuse the Weird equipment.

But in the end, the Weird originally in his body and the half‑fused Weird equipment were completely extracted.

No residue.

No backlash.

Even the most basic Weird contamination was consumed.

The large screen flipped through the photos one by one.

No one spoke on either side of the conference table.

Some clutched documents, some stared at the screen, and some had tea in their cups long gone cold, yet they didn't even touch it.

At this level of meeting, none of those who could sit here are timid.

But they have seen the Weird Domain devour a city, have seen an S Ji arrival, and have seen the Gospel Church treat humans as fuel to light a lamp.

Yet today this incident makes the teeth tingle from the roots.

Because the dead are not ordinary people.

They are Weird Controllers.

They are the newly‑grasped knives in humanity's hand.

And now, something specifically devours knives.

At the head seat, Wei Gong sits motionless.

His graying hair is neatly combed, and the administrative clasp is fastened to the top.

In front of him sits a white porcelain cup, its lid pressing down on the tea leaves, the steam already dissipated.

The elder's fingers tapped the tabletop twice lightly.

Thump.

Thump.

Everyone's attention in the conference room was drawn back.

Wei Gong opened his mouth.

"Since the Heitan Prison incident, thirty‑four cases."

"Nineteen confirmed to involve the crown."

"Fifteen suspected."

"The deceased range from a minimum B Ji to, at most, Quasi‑S."

"Everyone."

"This is not a criminal gang."

"This is a decapitation operation targeting the Weird Controller system."

Su Ming rose from his seat.

He wore a black field uniform, sleeves rolled to the forearms, and his face showed little expression.

But those who know him understand that the quieter he is, the more troublesome the matter.

"I previously led the team to survey the Heitan site."

Su Ming pressed the remote.

The large screen switched.

A panoramic view of the Heitan Detention Center ruins unfolded.

The high wall collapsed into fragments, the interrogation building was reduced to half, and the underground structure was gnawed through by dark‑red blood veins.

A line of small text was marked beside it.

Seven hours after the incident, the residual rules still possessed a low‑level suppression effect.

Su Ming pointed at the screen.

"The technical team repaired seventeen segments of damaged surveillance."

"Criminal behavior experts, Weird residue analysts, and the on‑site reconstruction unit conducted three rounds of cross‑analysis."

He paused, then looked up at several Senior Executives.

This is not ordinary slaughter.

This is an organized, premeditated action.

The screen changed again.

The image was blurry, with snowflake patterns.

Underground water prison.

The light tube flickered on and off.

The wastewater glowed red, and the wall paint peeled off in layers.

A Ji Weird Controller Zhao Xiao knelt in the water, his expensive suit soaked, hair plastered to his forehead.

He had once been the "garrison hero" in the Federation's propaganda films.

He had repelled a B Ji Weird Domain.

He had saved the city's defense line.

He had been on the internal commendation list.

But in the image, he knelt faster than anyone.

Zhao Xiao faced him.

Zhou Ping stood in the center of the blood-water.

His prison garb was torn, the wound closed, and the dark red crown pattern on his forehead flickered.

Seven red eyes opened above his head.

There were no exaggerated movements.

There were no extra declarations.

He simply raised his hand and pressed toward Zhao Xiao's chest.

In the meeting room, someone unconsciously held their breath.

In the image, Zhao Xiao's cyan-black weird patterns crawled wildly inside his body.

A faceless Fierce Ghost was forcibly pulled out from his chest.

Skinner.

A Ji Fierce Ghost.

Something that once made three field teams detour.

Now it was wailing, struggling, begging for mercy.

But the first red eye of the crown merely turned.

The Skinner was then coiled into dark red energy and stuffed into that eye.

Zhao Xiao's weird patterns faded out.

His whole body collapsed into the wastewater.

In the meeting room, a Northern Branch Bureau Chief couldn't help but curse.

"How are we supposed to play this?"

No one laughed.

That remark was crude, yet it spoke to everyone's throat.

The Weird Controllers' greatest trump card is the weird inside them.

Jiang Yuan sat in the second seat on the left, still wearing his Black Combat Suit.

The wounds left from the Gospel Church battlefield had not yet healed, and movement still caused strain.

But compared to his injuries, the dark red crown on the screen was more glaring.

That thing, he had seen before.

Several weeks ago.

North American Abandoned Royal Court Weird Domain.

Global Red Alert.

A blood-patterned crown appeared out of thin air, then vanished before space-based weapons could lock on.

Everyone thought it would stay hidden for a long time.

As it turned out, it did not hide.

It chose an ordinary person driven to desperation, then overturned the entire rules system.

It basically turned the Weird Controllers from the version's answer into the version's discard.

Qin Zhixia sat opposite Jiang Yuan.

She had switched to a new mechanical prosthetic arm, its silver-gray shell housed in the uniform sleeve, with a faint red indicator light blinking at the joint on the back of her hand.

She stared at the crown on the screen, her brows and eyes lowered.

"It's not mere suppression."

Qin Zhixia spoke.

"The contract between Zhao Xiao and the Skinner has been taken over by the Crown."

"It's not seizing power."

"It is rewriting ownership."

The Technology Department head nodded, throat dry.

"Qin Team is right."

"The residual traces we detected are weird."

"The Weird that was stripped away did not leak contamination, nor did it cause a secondary disaster."

In other words, Zhou Ping didn't kill the Weird.

He suppressed and merged the Weird.

It's different from Lu Yu's simple devouring, and also different from Jiang Yuan's domination.

Before they can complete devouring and dominating the Weird, they must defeat it.

And the Crown's ability… is to directly dominate the opponent's Weird and devour it.

Liang Wen leaned against the chair back; the person who usually loves to stir things up now had his banter cut in half.

He tapped the edge of the table with his fingers.

So, the Deceiver in front of him not only can't win, but also gets its equipment blown up?

Su Ming gave him a glance.

More or less.

Liang Wen closed his eyes.

Very good, it has the aesthetic of a late‑night game designer who drank too much and tweaked the stats.

No one responded.

Because something worse is still to come.

Su Ming continued the playback.

The scene shifted to a three‑level underground corridor of the Black Pool.

Zhou Ping opened one cell after another.

Someone knelt.

Someone received a dark‑red crystal.

Someone was swallowed by the red eyes that split open the ground.

The interrogation area burst into flames.

Fake testimonies, fake videos, and fake medical records were burned to ash.

Twenty‑seven avengers took shape in the blood‑stained water.

They were not ordinary prisoners.

There was a butcher whose wife had been taken by the Deceiver.

There was a young man whose girlfriend died tragically and had nowhere to appeal.

There was a civilian adapter who reported the Containment Object's black market resale, only to have his whole family imprisoned.

There was also an informant whose half a life had been completely squeezed dry by the Black Pool.

These people were selected.

They were granted power.

They were suppressed to prevent backlash.

Jiang Yuan watched them kneel one by one, his throat feeling as if something was stuck.

He had seen many monsters.

But Zhou Ping's routine was more troublesome than monsters.

Because what Zhou Ping held in his hand was not simple hatred.

It was the defiant words that too many people had pressed into his throat.

"Wei Bureau."

A Senior Executive whispered, "This matter cannot be made public."

"The Deceiver system has just been established, and Qiu Ce Yuan is still recruiting,"

"If the public learns that someone is specifically hunting Deceivers, it will cause great panic,"

Another person immediately retorted.

"Panic is already spreading,"

"On the Black Market, someone has already called Zhou Ping the Seven‑Eyed King,"

"Others say he is the judge representing ordinary people,"

"If we drag this out further, public opinion will be led astray,"

"Those who have been oppressed by the Deceiver will treat him as a banner,"

Low murmurs of dispute began in the conference room.

Someone advocated a blockade.

Someone advocated waiting for a rabbit.

Someone suggested negotiation, arguing that Zhou Ping's current targets are mostly the malicious Deceiver and privileged circles.

Just as those words were spoken, Qin Zhixia's mechanical prosthetic arm lightly pressed onto the tabletop.

The metal joints emitted a faint scrape.

She lifted her gaze.

"Negotiation?"

"With what do we negotiate?"

"To admit that his killing was justified?"

The Senior Executive's face tightened.

"Qin Team, I don't mean that,"

Qin Zhixia did not raise her voice.

But every word was pressed down firmly.

Black Pool is guilty.

Zhao Xiao is guilty.

But Zhou Ping is not currently seeking redress.

He is establishing a private punishment order that belongs solely to the crown.

Today he judged Zhao Xiao, and many people applauded.

Tomorrow, who will he judge?

And the day after?

She stopped, her mechanical joints tightening then loosening.

The knife being held by the victim doesn't mean it won't continue to eat people.

The meeting room quieted somewhat.

Wei Gong looked toward Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan, you speak.

Jiang Yuan raised his head.

He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.

Sai Men said a sentence before dying.

The gaze of the divine.

He didn't beat around the bush.

Regarding the Black Pool matter, the crown's appearance is too coincidental.

The abandoned king's court Weird Domain appeared, disappeared, and turned toward Zhou Ping.

Then through Zhou Ping, create a hunting surge against the Weird-defenders.

This is not the path that wild Weirdness grew on its own.

Someone is using Zhou Ping to dig up our roots.

Su Ming continued.

Moreover, he's digging very cleverly.

The Gospel Church's approach is too dirty; it alienates anyone it sees, and the public resents it.

Zhou Ping is different.

Many of the people he kills have dirt on them.

The more he kills, the more people feel satisfied.

The short video clips don't need editing; I've already thought of the headlines.

Ordinary people's revenge privilege: Weird-defenders.

After watching, they stay silent, then share and break through defenses.

Liang Wen rubbed his brow.

Su Team, your marketing vibe is too strong.

Su Ming ignored him.

Don't laugh.

This is the danger point.

He doesn't make people fearful.

He makes some people feel satisfied.

Satisfied.

These two words fell, and no one in the meeting room made a sound.

The most terrifying aspect of Weirdness is not always killing people.

Sometimes, it speaks for you what you most want to say, then makes you applaud it.

Wei Gong lifted his teacup, but didn't drink, after a brief thought he set it down.

Determine its nature.

Sinful Crown, S-rank Weird Object.

Host Zhou Ping, codename 'Seven-Eyed King'.

Its subordinate organization, tentatively named, the Avengers.

Handling principle.

If it can be contained, contain it.

If it cannot be contained, eliminate it.

He raised his head and looked at everyone.

Remember this one thing.

Clear the Black Pool's accounts; the bureau will investigate it themselves.

Zhou Ping cannot enforce the law for the Federation.

Nor can he legislate for humanity.

After these words were spoken, no one argued further.

Jiang Yuan lowered his eyes.

The tabletop reflected the meeting room's lights; in that dark reflection, he saw the shadow of his own waist-mounted card bag.

The Shadow Ghost's power surged faintly within his body.

It wasn't fear.

It is vigilance.

If he faces Zhou Ping, will the Shadow Ghost be suppressed by the crown?

S Ji Spellbreaker, sounds like standing at the pinnacle of human combat power.

But this kind of crown seems to be inherently aimed at them.

Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the conference room door.

The technician pushed the door open, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Director Wei!"

"The dark web has a new link."

"We originally thought it was an ordinary provocation post, but it bypassed seven firewalls and actively pushed to the global Spellbreaker internal channel."

"The title is related to the Avengers."

Lord Wei's eyelids lifted.

"Project the screen."

The technician's fingers flew over the controls.

The big screen went dark.

A few seconds later, a blood-red page popped up.

No fancy layout.

No extra explanation.

In the center was only a single line of title.

The sin trial of the Spellbreakers counts down three hours.

Below the title is a jumping countdown.

Two hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-seven seconds.

Two hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-six seconds.

Two hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-five seconds.