Chapter 571: Speech

Ten minutes remain until Tang Guo'an's global safety speech.

In the outer ring of Jiang Hai City's New Order Square, all light panels were completely extinguished.

The advertising screen was sealed off with black cloth.

The glass curtain wall was covered with a matte film.

Even the shop windows along the street were pressed down by the Special Forces with temporary boards.

Jiang Yuan stood on the west side platform of the square, his waist card bag opened, dark poker cards hanging one by one at the edge of his hand.

Shadow spread out from the ground, extending outward along the isolation barrier, temporary walls, and security gates.

One layer.

Two layers.

Three layers.

In the outermost ring, the shadow lay flat on the ground; in the inner ring, the shadow rose into low walls, leaving a narrow passage in the middle for people to evacuate.

Jiang Yuan did not pursue aesthetics.

He only sought to block every blind spot.

The pollution of Lu Dou relied on sight, hearing, screens, and also on people's own brains to fill in the gaps.

Therefore, the square had no large screen today.

No live broadcast van.

No audience mobile phones.

Not even normal cameras.

All lenses were changed to infrared outline collection, with a three‑minute delay before entering the headquarters' Data Center, and only after passing through eighteen structural filters would they be sent outward.

This no longer resembles a public speech.

It is more like stuffing the whole world into an operating room, where even breathing must be disinfected first.

A Night Watcher team member ran up behind Jiang Yuan.

"Captain, there is residual reflectivity on the thirty‑second floor of the eastern commercial building."

Jiang Yuan raised his hand.

Two poker cards flew out, cutting off the metal trim on the outside of that glass pane.

Black shadow climbed up the wall, sealing the entire window.

"Double‑check."

"Received."

The team member turned and ran off.

Jiang Yuan stared at the rear rows of the square.

Five thousand civilians had already entered the venue.

The number is not large.

But each person has a live‑stream signal connected behind them.

Among these five thousand are post‑disaster reconstruction representatives, ordinary police officers' families, victims protected by the new law, and people who have just turned their lives around from the Spirit Deceiver Privilege Case.

Tang Guo'an will speak to them.

He will also speak to the world.

Jiang Yuan does not like this arrangement.

The risk is absurdly high.

But Tang Guo'an said only one sentence.

"If order needs to hide to prove itself, then it has already lost."

Jiang Yuan did not respond at the time.

He still does not respond now.

He only laid the shadow thicker.

On the south side of the square, Su Ming crouched beside the cable well, holding a site plan in his hand.

The paper is covered in red circles and handwritten numbers.

The outer tactical team surrounded him, with no one daring to urge him on.

Su Ming pulled out the last cable and replaced it with a physical circuit breaker.

"Team Seven, verify the audio line."

"Confirmed, the microphone picks up in one direction only, and there is no feedback equipment behind the podium."

"Team Nine, verify the audience area."

"All phones are sealed; smartwatches, glasses, and electronic prosthetic eyes are all registered and temporarily confiscated."

Su Ming raised his head.

"Prosthetic eye?"

The team member hesitated for half a second.

"Three civilians have installed medical prosthetic eyes."

"Replace them with mechanical masks, leaving only basic navigation."

"They will protest."

Su Ming folded up the paper.

"Let them protest. Protesting while alive is better than laughing while beating each other up."

The team member fell silent and went to carry it out.

Liang Wen, at the side, crossed his arms; the black windcoat swayed in the wind.

Su Team, you're becoming more and more like a dormitory supervisor. Phones confiscated, watches confiscated, prosthetic eyes confiscated. In two minutes, are you going to check if anyone secretly brought spicy strips?

Su Ming didn't look up.

If you have it, hand it over.

Liang Wen froze.

No, why assume this king brought spicy strips?

L's text channel came in.

Liang Wen's pocket has an abnormal heat source; it matches a self-heating hot pot.

Liang Wen lowered his head to check the windcoat's inner pocket, then fell silent.

Su Ming looked at him.

Carrying flammable food during war?

Liang Wen coughed.

This is the Dark-Blooded King's emergency rations. Do you know apocalypse survival?

Qin Zhixia walked past the temporary command vehicle, her mechanical prosthetic arm gripping the Tail-Head Snake at her waist.

Confiscated.

Liang Wen's expression fell.

Qin Team, this is an offense against royal authority.

Qin Zhixia stopped.

Ten seconds.

Liang Wen handed the self-heating hot pot to the nearby teammate, moving honestly.

The teammate took the box and couldn't help taking a peek.

Tomato hot pot.

Liang Wen added quietly.

Don't sneak a bite. That's this king's last dignity.

No one laughed out loud.

But the tense atmosphere loosened a little.

Qin Zhixia no longer paid him any mind.

She got into the command vehicle, took out a soft cloth, and wiped the Tail-Head Snake's blade.

Her movements were slow.

The metal finger joints of her mechanical prosthetic arm locked onto the hilt, emitting a faint click.

Wu Ming's containment box sat at her feet.

Each use of it consumes lifespan.

She had seen this cost before.

But today is different.

Tang Gu'an is not a Spirit Controller.

He is not combat personnel.

An old man in the administrative system, despite having countless reasons to hide in the underground headquarters, insists on taking the stage.

Qin Zhixia dislikes heroics.

She's seen too many heroes die in mission reports.

But sometimes, someone must step forward.

Because ordinary people need to see that someone remains on stage.

Not a monster.

Not a god.

It's a person.

L's plain report came through the comms.

The underground data center has been secured. All on-site signals now go into a three-minute buffer.

Lord Wei's reply consisted of just two words.

Continue.

Underground data center.

Cool wind blew between the cabinets.

The technicians sat at their workstations, silent.

L sat at the central console, black-framed glasses reflecting the data stream; the laptop's cat sticker lay buried under a pile of permission cards, only half of the cat's head showing.

She entered the final command.

The main screen displayed a red confirmation prompt.

The safety lock awaits authorization.

A technical supervisor stood nearby, face pale.

"Lin Zu, this mechanism is too ruthless. Once triggered, all streaming platforms will cut off simultaneously. The public will call it madness."

L didn't look up.

"Being scolded won't kill you."

The supervisor pursed his lips.

"What if it's a misjudgment?" Representative Tang just said, and the world went black; the public opinion department could ascend on the spot.

L tapped the second confirmation.

"I'll take responsibility."

The supervisor looked at her.

"This isn't something that can be settled with a single sentence."

L paused for a beat, then nudged the notebook in her lap forward.

"The military order has been uploaded."

A signature popped up in the lower right corner of the screen.

Lin Linling.

Responsibility level: highest.

The technical supervisor's Adam's apple twitched, and he said no more.

L looked at the data pool.

Her goal was simple.

No transmission window for Lu Dou.

Do not let any smiley‑face structure pass through the cache pool.

If the algorithm hesitates, cut it off manually.

If the human hesitates, let the system kill the live stream first.

The insults can be assigned to her.

Not the dead.

She casually pushed the coffee beside her farther away.

A sticky note was stuck on the cup wall.

Watch episode 18 after work.

L glanced at the note for half a second and pressed it onto the desk.

"Episode 18 postponed."

Headquarters, top floor.

Wei Gong stood by the window, not going to the site.

The large screen behind him split into dozens of panels.

Square outskirts.

Podium.

Data Center.

Medical isolation pod.

Regional branch standby rooms.

Each panel lacked normal colors, showing only infrared outlines and textual labels.

Wei Gong had a cup of tea at his side.

He didn't move.

The secretary whispered a reminder.

"Director, Representative Tang has already arrived backstage."

Wei Gong nodded.

"Bring them in."

The screen switched.

Tang Guoan stood in a small backstage cubicle, still wearing that administrative jacket.

The jacket was faded from washing, its cuffs frayed.

A staff member tried to give him a new one, but he refused.

Tang Guoan lowered his head to straighten his collar, then adjusted the temporary pass on his chest.

The gesture was ordinary.

So ordinary it seemed unrelated to confronting S Ji contamination.

Wei Gong watched the screen.

"Old Tang, withdrawing now is still possible."

Tang Guoan lifted his head and smiled briefly.

It wasn't the standard expression for the camera.

Just a response between old friends.

"At my age, why withdraw? Go home and tend flowers?"

Wei Gong said nothing.

Tang Guoan continued to tidy his cuffs.

"Old Wei, you fight monsters, and us with pens can't just write eulogies."

The secretary stood nearby, eyes reddened, and lowered her head again.

Tang Guoan saw this, reached out and patted her shoulder.

"Xiao Li, don't cry. The makeup is scarier than me going on stage."

Xiao Li's defenses cracked for half a second, and she quickly wiped her eyes.

Tang Guoan turned toward the camera.

I'll say a few honest words.

Duke Wei watched him.

Tang Guo'an said: "I'm scared. Who isn't? hearing reports about that thing Lu Dou makes my scalp go numb. But if I dodge today, tomorrow ten thousand people will say even Tang Guo'an doesn't dare go out—what use is the new law then?"

He lowered his head and pulled the jacket zipper to the proper position.

Ordinary people have just straightened their backs; we can't let them bend again.

Duke Wei lifted his teacup, then set it down.

When you're done speaking, withdraw; don't add extra words.

Tang Guo'an nodded.

Rest assured, I'm not Liang Wen; I won't improvise on the spot.

On the other end of the comms, Liang Wen happened to hear it.

Hey hey hey, Old Tang, gossiping behind people's backs isn't a good habit.

Tang Guo'an laughed and waved his hand.

That's what you call a notable case.

Liang Wen clutched his chest.

Your Majesty has suffered an administrative critical hit.

Su Ming suddenly added a finishing blow.

No compensation for work injuries.

Backstage at the Square, several staff members couldn't help but lower their heads.

The tension eased a little.

Tang Guo'an didn't waste any more words.

He picked up the speech draft, glanced at two lines, then put it back on the table.

No need for the script.

Those words had been bottled up inside him for years.

Post-disaster reconstruction, casualty lists, the rights of ordinary people to be protected, and those who deal with the uncanny must be bound by law.

These aren't pretty words.

They are the results many have paid for with their lives over the past six months.

Five minutes left on the countdown.

Jiang Yuan completed the final layer of shadow isolation.

Outer perimeter sealed.

Su Ming verified all defensive lines.

Physical links severed, anomalous equipment zeroed.

Qin Zhixia fastened the Tail-Head Snake.

Assault team standing by.

L's character popped out.

The failsafe mechanism stands by; the contamination identification threshold has been lowered to risk level.

Liang Wen stood inside the security inner circle, hands in his pockets.

Dark-Blooded King standing by. By the way, where can I put my little hot pot?

Qin Zhixia: "Shut up."

Liang Wen: "Received, I'll be quiet for a moment."

One minute left on the countdown.

On the Square, five thousand citizens sat in the temporary seats.

No applause.

No slogans.

But no one caused a disturbance.

An old patrolman sat in the third row, hands on his knees.

A girl who had once been bullied by those who deal with the uncanny sat beside her mother, head bowed, gripping her pass.

A few newly hired ordinary officers sat in the back rows, their sidearms loaded with Suppress Spook Bullets.

They were all waiting.

Waiting for Tang Guo'an to speak.

Waiting for an answer that would let people keep going.

Ten seconds left on the countdown.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Jiang Yuan's hand pressed down on the Card Bag.

Su Ming stared at the backstage route.

Qin Zhixia fastened the containment box with her palm.

Duke Wei stood before the headquarters screen, spine ramrod straight.

L's finger hovered over the failsafe confirmation key.

Three.

Two.

One.

Cleared to zero.

Tang Guo'an walked up to the podium.

No music.

No lighting effects.

Only the green safety sign in front of the microphone lit up.

Infrared scan swept across the venue.

No abnormal weird fluctuations.

Audio structure normal.

Video structure normal.

Electronic pollution, zero.

L report released the results.

"Safety window opened."

Tang Guo'an stood before the microphone, hands resting on the edge of the podium.

He didn't look at the script.

The first word he spoke was steady.

"Ga......"

At the very second that word entered the buffer.

In the rear of the crowd.

A security officer tasked with maintaining order lowered his head, his shoulders giving a slight shudder.

His colleague beside him lowered his voice.

"Lao Zhou, what's wrong?"

Lao Zhou didn't answer.

His lip line lifted upward.

The extent grew larger and larger.

It wasn't a normal laugh.

Nor was it pain.

That face beneath the mask changed, skin pulling apart to the sides, teeth gradually showing.