Chapter 116: Manipulated Lives and Hypocrisy

"Hey! What the hell is this! Isn't there something wrong with the system's detection?!" — Sailor

"What do you mean?" — Albino

"I also suggested that there is a God in this world! But the system rejected it!" — Sailor

He stared at the screen. In the pitch-black cabin, his eyes, fixed intently on the monitor, were ghastly white.

His face was bloated, the result of the wretched conditions of life aboard the ship.

The long-term lack of vitamins was starting to take its toll; his fingertips were festering, pale and sodden, with a tiny, raw bud of flesh growing from a wound.

Like the deepest part of a flower's stamen.

He bit into the wound on his hand, using his front teeth to pluck out that small bit of granulation.

He listened to the outside; it seemed the patrolling crew members had moved away.

He tapped on the screen, his face twisted with resentment, or perhaps a desire for revenge against this world.

"You suggested it too? Do you have any evidence?" — Thousand-Face

"What evidence? How could there be evidence for some bullshit like God!" — Sailor

"You have no evidence, but I do. That is the reason the system rejected you." — Thousand-Face

"I don't understand..."

He was halfway through typing when Fairy-Tale Author sent a new message.

"In other words, we must propose arguments based on evidence. Otherwise, the system will directly reject our 'traded knowledge'." — Fairy-Tale Author

"Exactly. Predicting tomorrow's lottery numbers won't yield results, but if you knew for a fact what the winning numbers would be, the system would have enough to judge." — Thousand-Face

"What if the information I hold is the correct number, but it gets changed later?" — Albino

"Simple. If it is true at the moment, it will pass. The system cannot be held accountable for what happens afterward." — Thousand-Face

"What if the news I received was fake to begin with?" — Albino

"It cannot be traded." — Thousand-Face

"You understand this very thoroughly." — Albino

In front of her screen, the girl, her hair falling out in clumps, tapped at the keyboard. Her fingertips left streaks of blood on the keys, which seeped into the mechanical switches.

"No... no. I cannot be the first one to be exposed..." She lowered her voice, but as soon as she spoke, she couldn't stop coughing.

She covered her mouth, her eyes bulging, tears mixed with fresh blood dripping from the corners of her eyes.

She grabbed the medicine on the table with a savage motion and gulped it down in large mouthfuls.

Only after downing about half the bottle did she let out a heavy sigh of relief.

She looked behind her; the door to the room was swaying slightly.

"I cannot be the first to request..." she whispered, suddenly seeing Thousand-Face post a bounty in the chat room.

"Requirement: A few weak souls. Reward: Negotiable." — Thousand-Face

"He’s so natural? How could he post the first commission so brazenly? Is he not worried at all?" She stared at the bounty on the screen, picking at the strands of hair shed on her chest, lost in thought.

"Done. After this message goes out, there should be more people willing to make a move."

Chen Qing stretched his body and closed his laptop.

In fact, the moment he sent the message, someone had already approached him.

But looking at the message the other person sent, he had no intention of replying immediately.

The reward he needed was a channel—or rather, someone to relay a message for him.

A piece of information for the organization he hoped to destroy.

"I have over twenty souls infected by the anomalous. They can all be extracted. I can give them to you, but you must pass a decryption key to the Foundation. I assume you know what the Foundation is."

On his screen, Sailor had sent a message.

Yes, he knew. Of course he knew.

The very inspiration for this website had been pulled from the Foundation's own archives.

But he didn't want to agree so quickly.

He wasn't in a rush, and it wasn't yet time to let the onlookers enter the game.

Simply put, the temptation wasn't enough.

And desire is a thing that grows with anticipation...

Just as he was bored and looking for something to pass the time, a phone call interrupted his thoughts.

"Huh?"

He looked at the incoming call on his screen; the name Jiang Wan piqued his curiosity.

"What's wrong?" He answered the phone, listening to the voice on the other end.

"Is the number you gave me correct?" Her voice held a hint of bewilderment.

"What happened?" Chen Qing asked, listening. "Did the call yield results?"

She murmured an "Hmm," brow furrowed as she looked at the screen in front of her.

"The mobile number you gave me is completely empty. I checked the history databases, and there is absolutely no trace of it ever having been used. Hotels, transportation—not a single record. As for the owner, I investigated through the carrier; the number was purchased around... when the carrier was first established. It has been kept active for all these years without a single missed payment."

"And the billing account?"

"Anonymous." Jiang Wan furrowed her brow further. "The account was created a long time ago. I traced the transaction logs, but the final result was disappointing. It leads to a shell company that specializes in transfers—I can't find the source."

"Was it established using cash?"

"Yes. An offline transaction, and the funds have long since been recirculated. There's no way to track it."

He let out a breath, as if everything had returned to square one.

Someone was maintaining everything around him, maintaining this false sense of warmth.

"What about my uncle's?"

"Now that's interesting." Jiang Wan raised an eyebrow, her tone turning slightly comical.

"Oh?"

"Sixteen arrests for soliciting prostitutes, four times brought in for questioning over gambling, plus two domestic violence records—one reported by him, one by his wife."

He held the receiver, suddenly falling silent.

"Your uncle is quite the talent."

"Tsk."