Chapter Two: The Thread of Fate

“Oh, come now! Hahaha, we’re all old friends here—no need to call for blood and thunder the moment we meet. Mr. Lan, if you want a nuclear bomb, not just a tactical one but even the big ones, I can personally make the call and gift you one on behalf of my superiors!”

A hearty laugh rang out as two figures emerged from the deeper recesses of the kitchen.

The leader was a man in his early fifties, full of vigor, his eyes shining bright, and his smile warm and inviting, much like a courteous waiter. His very presence made one feel as if bathed in a spring breeze, carrying a genuine sense of respect and goodwill.

The other was an unremarkable young man, quiet and plain, the kind who would vanish into any crowd without leaving the faintest impression.

“As luck would have it, the timing is perfect. If we can be of any help during your first trial in the Artificial Divine Realm, that would truly be wonderful!”

The middle-aged man stepped forward, making a show of reaching for his walkie-talkie to give the order.

Such enthusiasm—offering a nuclear bomb as a gift right off the bat—would terrify any bureaucrat unfamiliar with the situation, making them question if the world itself had gone mad.

Lan Yi only smiled at this.

“Ji Ning, there’s no need to test me. Even if you gave it to me now, I couldn’t bring it into the Artificial Divine Realm. The spatial Daoist organ, I didn’t bring it back. At this moment, I don’t have a single Daoist organ on me. If you can’t trust your own eyes, surely you trust Zhang Shouzheng’s White Word?”

Daoist organs—

These are organs akin to neural plexuses, granting humans all sorts of uncanny abilities.

Long before the spatial invasions began, these organs already existed within the human body, but for various reasons they remained dormant. Even if a lucky few managed to activate a fraction of them by instinct, the effects were so subtle that they drowned within the clamor of daily life.

From Lan Yi’s words, Ji Ning’s eyes, and Zhang Shouzheng’s White Word—all are Daoist organs, widely known in the future as Daoist organs.

White Word—located in the brain, its function: mind reading.

“He’s not lying.”

Zhang Shouzheng gazed earnestly at Lan Yi, then after a moment, nodded.

This ‘not lying’ referred not only to Lan Yi’s claim of having no Daoist organs, but also to his earlier assertion that he’d only have a forty percent chance of surviving a tactical nuclear strike.

Ji Ning’s pupils contracted slightly. Though his smile remained gentle and bright, there was a fleeting moment where it barely reached his eyes—soon replaced by a more sincere and candid expression.

“Mr. Lan, you see, you misunderstood me again! I admit I have a little curiosity, haha, but that will never affect the way we treat an old friend. Our reputation is plain for all the world to see—if you have any request, even if it’s plucking stars or the moon, we’ll do our utmost to fulfill it!”

Unlike Lan Yi, who asked for nothing, Ji Ning actually hoped Lan Yi would make some request.

No matter how outrageous, anything was better than the alternative—a silence that, twenty years from now, would turn into an overt declaration of world-ending intentions. That attitude, where all negotiations are cut off and annihilation is simply enforced, left those of them who had lived again trembling in dread.

They had a sixty percent chance of killing Lan Yi.

Even if it meant dropping a tactical nuke on themselves, Ji Ning and Zhang Shouzheng believed the price worth paying.

But—

Ji Ning sensed something was off.

Lan Yi, who bore no trace of spiritual energy, had been able to discern every one of their actions at first meeting, even identifying all the weapons trained on him.

As the probable cause behind the rebirth of so many spiritual energy practitioners, who would dare take even a one percent risk—let alone forty percent? If they lost the bet, tragedy would repeat or even arrive ahead of schedule.

Though they spoke in the manner of old acquaintances, there was one point Ji Ning truly meant.

They were, indeed, old friends.

Given the chance to start over, why resort to violence and destruction? With such a vast world ahead, so many abundant resources, and enemies as numerous as the stars in the heavens, wouldn’t it be better to avoid so many pitfalls in advance?

As for blockheads like Gao Xing, he was one in a million even among the Starry Han.

And as for foreigners—well, eccentric types have always been common over there.

“I have no requests,” Lan Yi said, glancing at the time, “but I do have a transaction to offer. Since you’ve already paid, I’ll tell you what it is.”

So many reborn.

Having been slandered and ruined online, Lan Yi had no shortage of people eager to curry favor.

Ji Ning and his team had, with machine-like efficiency, seized an entire group of scoundrels who deserved damnation a thousand times over. Now, each of them was wishing for death, and Lan Yi was quite satisfied with the way they had been handled and with the chance left for him. Thus, he decided to share some key information with them in advance.

“Everyone’s rebirth is indeed connected to me.”

“There are three conditions to rebirth.”

“First, you must have at least reached the fifth energy level. Second, you must possess at least one quantum organ. Third, you must have been killed by my own hand.”

“Why would you do this?” Ji Ning pressed, seizing on this opening.

“Daoist organ psychosis.” Lan Yi did not answer directly, but instead offered a term that would only emerge in the future, and grow ever more common.

Daoist organ psychosis—

A disease that occurs when spiritual energy practitioners transplant too many Daoist organs into themselves, leading to the organs invading the brain, causing hallucinations and madness. The afflicted, once their mind breaks, attack all living things around them indiscriminately, wreaking havoc without regard for consequences. A single such madman can devastate an entire region.

When Lan Yi had annihilated the world in silence, many had suspected he too had fallen victim to Daoist organ psychosis.

Now, it seemed, he had admitted it himself.

It was a baffling notion.

After all, in the future, for those who stood at the true pinnacle of spiritual energy cultivation, this affliction—if not completely curable—could at least be rendered negligible.

Ji Ning and Zhang Shouzheng struggled to digest this outrageous answer.

On the other end of their earpieces, more than two hundred top physicists, biologists, sociologists, psychologists, weapons experts, and several tight-lipped elders—emergency-drafted within the past twenty-four hours into a top-secret project—were likewise grappling with this seemingly fantastical, but all too real, information.

Their foremost mission:

To determine if this world-ending demon, Lan Yi, still harbored any intent to destroy the world.

“If you fall ill and only block your own ears and silence others, searching everywhere for someone else to blame, you’ll only sink deeper into your own sickness.”

Lan Yi suddenly added.

Startled from his thoughts, Ji Ning blurted out,

“Mr. Lan, who do you mean is sick?”

“All that is filled with resentment now, and you as well.” Lan Yi replied, knowing that, even with a second chance, the illness still must be cured.

Ji Ning instinctively glanced at Zhang Shouzheng.

After a long, difficult pause, Zhang Shouzheng nodded slowly. This result sent a chill through Ji Ning’s heart.