Bell's eyes snapped open, the beer glass in his hand swaying, foam splashing and landing on his messy beard.

Crap.

The same thought flashed through the minds of all the mercenaries. Many placed their hands on the bar, using the wooden bar's automatic checkout system to transfer their spent game coins to the Crossbeam Bar account.

Then, one by one, they vanished from the spot—obviously teleporting out of the game square.

"Ah, this... I..."

Bell looked around, then turned to David, who stood expressionless at the entrance of the Crossbeam Bar, a bitter smile on his face that was more like a grimace.

"..."

David coldly swept a glance at the group of mercenaries, not in the mood to argue. Together with his colleagues from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he walked through the crowd that actively gave way, toward a secluded booth in the corner of the Crossbeam Bar.

Several figures were already seated in the booth—agents from other American intelligence agencies, as well as their superiors' contacts.

Players had a wide variety of methods, and the real world's telephone lines and internet communications were no longer 100% secure.

It was actually safer and more reliable to log directly into the game square and have a secret conversation in a secluded corner verified by the system as having no eavesdropping devices.

"Everyone, please sit down."

David gestured for everyone to sit. As soon as he sat down, a white male agent with a stern expression and a receding hairline spoke up, "We need to react to this."

"React?"

An agent with a burly physique frowned and asked, "React to what?"

"This time, our and other organizations' strongholds in Yin City were destroyed. The Special Affairs Bureau used post-disaster reconstruction as an excuse to refuse us entry to the reconstruction site.

The classified intelligence placed inside the stronghold building, the personnel list of the lurking agents, and the equipment props in the warehouse,

may all be in the hands of the Special Affairs Bureau."

The agent with the receding hairline said in a deep voice, "We need to denounce and condemn them internationally. It would be best if we could force the Special Affairs Bureau to return everything to us."

"Denounce? If denouncing was useful, we wouldn't be sitting here."

The burly agent shook his head and said, "Wake up, those Easterners have completely changed. They no longer pay attention to external noise and harassment.

No matter how high we jump or how loud we shout, they won't take it seriously.

It will only make us look like jumping clowns."

As time went on, the Special Affairs Bureau's isolationist tendencies became more and more obvious.

They stopped paying attention to outside voices and silently pushed forward with various projects according to the original plan—laying the Skynet, relocating residential areas, constructing city skyscrapers, building ultra-high-speed railways, and providing free universal healthcare...

The Special Affairs Bureau used remote areas as pilot projects, and in a very short period of time, completed the first phase of the city skyscraper project.

They relocated the residents of towns and villages, as well as those living in the remote mountainous and backward areas, all to the city skyscrapers.

This reduced the scope of patrols, alleviated the pressure on the Special Affairs Bureau to resolve abnormal events, and also facilitated the promotion of various benefits.

The medical robots manufactured by the Special Affairs Bureau's equipment research department could independently perform some simple consultations and surgeries.

The fully automatic medical beds, loaded with a large number of robotic arms, could automatically identify the condition and perform complex surgical operations on the patients who lay in them, including anesthesia, excision, and suturing.

The coverage of medical insurance was further increased, and the overall medical costs for the entire population were significantly reduced—medical robots and mechanical caregivers could replace medical staff in completing simple, complicated, and mechanical work,

reducing the pressure of insufficient medical personnel,

and lowering medical costs.

The new drugs (many of which were suspected to be alchemical products) continuously developed by the Special Affairs Bureau in conjunction with various pharmaceutical factories also greatly reduced the public's medical pressure, without having to pay for expensive foreign drugs and causing entire families to fall into poverty due to illness.

At the same time, the Skynet, as a monitoring system, further expanded its authority.

In coordination with the Special Affairs Bureau's newly launched intelligent decision-making system, similar to the one Li Ang encountered in the [True Name Real Surname] script mission,

the supercomputer system collected massive amounts of information, coordinated, planned resource allocation, made decisions, issued orders, and fully supervised and properly executed them.

After reducing the influence of the "human" variable, work efficiency increased sharply and costs decreased sharply.

The impact of all these changes was extremely far-reaching.

From the perspective of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and other organizations, the Special Affairs Bureau suddenly lost interest in everything overseas.

Whether it was the proxy war planned by the European heavy industry group in Africa,

or the modern war intentionally provoked by the Federal Bureau of Investigation between the banana republics (referring to corrupt and weak entities whose economic system is a single economy, mainly exporting crops such as bananas and cocoa) in Central and South America,

they could not attract the attention of the Special Affairs Bureau.

At most, they would verbally condemn a few sentences.

And the hidden tricks and traps set by the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the open and in the dark were completely ignored by the Special Affairs Bureau—only one thing: those immigrants who had abandoned their household registration and defected to foreign countries would find it extremely difficult to return to the East and enjoy universal benefits.

"They must have received tremendous benefits in the Gate, which is why they no longer care about external affairs."

The burly agent said with some irritability, "They no longer crave the resources of other regions on Earth, and only symbolically continue to import some oil and agricultural products to maintain the import and export industry.

They also no longer desire the scientific and technological advancements of other regions on Earth—the technology tree provided by the Killing Game is already vast and complex enough, they can't even finish researching it all,

and only symbolically continue to maintain academic exchange activities.

I suspect that they obtained a complete planet from the Gate that can be massively migrated at any time.

Maybe the resources, climate, and so on can't compare with Earth, but the advantage is that it is completely occupied by them alone.

Earth, in their eyes, may only be a hometown and a temporary residence.

If other alien worlds cross through the Gate and launch an attack, they may directly abandon Earth and collectively escape to the new colony."

"Do I need you to tell me that? Everyone knows now that the Special Affairs Bureau no longer cares about the outside world and most likely has an other-dimensional space for colonization and refuge."

The agent with the receding hairline complained in a low voice, "But what can we do? God knows where they hid the Gate in that deep mountain forest!"

The agents present were inexplicably indignant. Although they themselves knew that if America obtained a colony planet, they would definitely do even worse—

such as mass assassinations of scientists from other regions, blocking their technology, arbitrarily provoking political turmoil and wars, and even launching nuclear bombs.

David expressionlessly turned his gaze to the white agent with the receding hairline and said calmly, "Are you trying to say that the Gate I obtained is not good enough?"

The agent instantly stiffened, hurriedly straightened his back, and stammered, "No, no.

I just wanted to say that the Special Affairs Bureau needs to pay the price."

"The price."

David retracted his cold gaze, leaned back, and said calmly, "What price?"

"This..."

The agent licked his lips and said through gritted teeth, "We can use the name of joint military exercises with the Japanese island to bring the updated naval fleet ships to the east coast of the Pacific..."

"Idiot."

David scolded his colleague mercilessly, causing the latter's expression to turn pale, "Do you think this is still the past?

The naval ships using Area 51 technology, equipped with new electromagnetic railguns, waverider missiles, and [Falcon] hypersonic unmanned combat aircraft, are indeed strong enough,

but can they deal with the Vermillion Bird phenomenon?

Can they deal with the Special Affairs Bureau's ubiquitous Hetu formation?

You should have watched that battle video. The Vermillion Bird phenomenon is an incorporeal phantom, unaffected by conventional explosions, kinetic energy impacts, and so on.

Electromagnetic railguns, rocket missiles, machine guns, and cannons are all useless against that thing.

And the Vermillion Bird phenomenon is just one of the Special Affairs Bureau's hidden trump cards!

God knows how many similar things they have."

"But..."

The white agent's expression changed several times, and he said with difficulty, "The more powerful the transcendent elements, the more severe the suppression and restraint they will inevitably receive.

The Vermillion Bird phenomenon may have some kind of fragile limitation, a fatal point,

such as never being able to leave the scope of Yin City..."

"Then,"

David glanced at him with a sneer, "do you dare to bet?

Bet that the Special Affairs Bureau will not release the Vermillion Bird,

bet that the Vermillion Bird cannot fly to the sea,

bet that the strange fire emitted by the Vermillion Bird cannot penetrate the energy shields newly developed by the naval giant ships."

"..."

The white agent completely closed his mouth. No one dared to participate in this kind of gamble, not even his superior's superior would dare to make a similar suggestion.

"Shut up, all of you."

David said coldly, "This time, let's just pretend that nothing happened, and everyone will be fine. This is also what DC means."

David had extremely high authority in various intelligence agencies in the United States. After he finished speaking, the others stopped making noise and just sighed silently.

'Sigh...'

David glanced at his gloomy colleagues and sighed silently in his heart.

As the Killing Game continued to advance, the authority and importance of intelligence agencies like the Federal Bureau of Investigation were actually constantly increasing.

They could freely monitor, supervise, review, collect information and data through gray means, investigate companies or individuals, build their own bases and strongholds, train armed personnel, and review everything they deemed a threat.

Whoever masters extraordinary power possesses power.

David's adoptive father, who was also the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, had always believed in this principle.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation took advantage of its first-mover advantage, obtained extraordinary power, provided protection for those American dignitaries who needed it, and also mastered a large number of scandals and secrets that could ruin anyone's reputation.

David's adoptive father knew how to keep secrets. No one knew exactly what information he had, so no one dared to challenge his power and status, hold hearings, or weaken the Federal Bureau of Investigation's power.

As time went on, the size and status of the Federal Bureau of Investigation continued to expand, reaching and even exceeding the scale of the Edgar Hoover era.

The special agents also possessed unprecedented power—even to the point of influencing the American naval fleet.

'Only power is the root of everything. Illusory power will only make people intoxicated and numb.'

David looked at all the dissatisfied and indignant colleagues present, and the words of his adoptive father echoed in his heart.

The battle between the Dryad Titan and the Vermillion Bird phenomenon was not only a challenge from an individual to a transcendent organization,

but also meant the dissemination and spread of the concept of a Cataclysm-level powerhouse—although that bearded mercenary in the bar was talking nonsense, everyone could see that

a top-notch transcender was enough to cause damage to the real world comparable to modern warfare.

Cataclysm-level players will be above most things and become the order itself.

Presumably, those big shots in America are also having trouble sleeping and eating right now. They know more than these agents in front of them—

for example, that person in the [The Long Night is Coming] script mission who folded an entire world into a box,

and used the power of phantoms to suppress Hornheim, David, Li Risheng, Amberlee, Liu Wudai, and Ding Zhensui, six first-tier players, alone,

Su Nisheng.

David slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, and a surge of fighting spirit flashed in his eyes.

Su Nisheng, Hornheim, Li Risheng...

Cataclysm, what a truly fascinating name...

————

Similar situations to the Federal Bureau of Investigation agents were also happening in other booths in the Crossbeam Bar.

Everyone was discussing the impact of the emergence of top-level transcenders and the far-reaching changes to the future order brought about by top players.

In comparison, the specific reasons for the conflict between Li Ang and the Special Affairs Bureau,

and the Special Affairs Bureau's loss of face in front of other organizations due to their hesitation,

were no longer important—mere face was not worth mentioning compared to the intangible deterrence brought about by mastering the Vermillion Bird phenomenon.

The current Dryad Titan and Vermillion Bird phenomenon were the ceiling of combat expressiveness in the Killing Game.

If you don't agree, other organizations can go and raise their own Vermillion Bird.

"..."

Mule, wearing a White Horse mask, in the corner of the Crossbeam Bar,

listened to the bizarre rumors about Li Ang being discussed by the people around him, his expression complicated.

Some said that Li Ang was actually a gene-modified experimental product who had been secretly developed by the Special Affairs Bureau's [Dragon Shadow] base more than a decade ago and had escaped, and was a member of the legendary [Dragon Group]. This conflict was to seek justice from the Special Affairs Bureau for his childhood experimental brothers and sisters who had died;

some said that Li Ang was actually the reincarnation of an ancient god and Buddha, and was Kui Mulang, one of the twenty-eight constellations of the Western White Tiger;

some said that Li Ang was a talent secretly funded and cultivated by the Special Affairs Bureau. Because he and Michael had been flirting in private and were in love with each other, the Special Affairs Bureau wanted to forcibly break them up, which caused the conflict;

The more it spread, the more outrageous it became.

Mule shook his head, stuffed the wine bottle into the mouth of the White Horse mask, and drank it all in one gulp.

To think... that newbie player who once asked him for the architectural drawings of Longheng Plaza would one day grow to this extent, become famous around the world, strongly suppress large organizations into submission, and be praised by players as a Cataclysm-level anomaly.

His relationship with Li Ang had always been good. The two sides had always cooperated happily, helping each other and reaching the level of friends.

Maybe...

his revenge finally had hope?

However, if he wanted to ask Li Ang to help him,

what kind of price would he have to pay...

Mule slammed the wine bottle heavily on the table with some irritation, swiped his palm across the bar, transferred the payment,

turned around and jumped off the seat, logged out of the square, and went to meet his sister Laura.

In the moment before leaving the game square, his gaze swept across the noisy Crossbeam Bar,

and caught a glimpse of that group of people in the corner booth who made a particularly deep impression on him.

The Syndicate's... All the disciples?