August 6th, less than ten days remained before the next Rule announcement.
For most people this day was ordinary, a rare moment to enjoy the Rule interval period’s calm.
Some Ascendants who lost precious items in the Gambling Rounds gave up and decayed through neglect, while others pulled themselves together and began searching for alternative paths.
The ordinary population—making up about seventy to eighty percent of the total—suffered heavy losses under this Rule, even more so than the Openers.
According to official statistics from various countries over the past few days, the total number of ordinary people who died under the Gambling Rule has already passed into the tens of thousands.
The reason for such heavy casualties was simple: ordinary people could not produce high-value stakes like Mind Power items or exclusive abilities. Once they entered the formal Gambling Round, they were forced to stake their lives on the first hand.
But why did so many ordinary people choose to start the formal Gambling Round?
The reason was straightforward: the stakes offered by the Life-Hunting Avatar were irresistible.
Survivors reported that after the first three newbie rounds ended, the Life-Hunting Avatar produced items before the formal rounds began that could “activate Mind Power.”
For many ordinary people, such an item was even more valuable than life.
Ever since the world entered the Doomsday Rules era, everyone understood that even Ascendants rarely lasted to the very end—ordinary people stood virtually no chance.
This was also why many people, after Mind Power decayed to zero and their Terminal Panel shut down, could not accept it and took their own lives; they were so desperate about the future that they believed they had lost any chance to turn things around.
Those ordinary people who could still hold on fell into two camps: some kept hoping “what if?” and waited for a miracle; others fully gave up and adopted a “live for today” attitude.
No matter which camp they were in, when faced with the Life-Hunting Avatar’s tempting stakes—“activate Mind Power,” “restart Terminal Panel,” and so on—a large portion could not resist gambling everything in the Gambling Space.
The result was predictable.
The Gambling Space’s purpose was to seize life and existence. When ordinary people bit on the bait and staked their lives to start the formal rounds, they were mercilessly taken.
This Rule claimed many lives and taught survivors a harsh lesson:
Do not assume you can take advantage of targets far stronger than you; what they may value most could very well be your life.
Debate over why the Gambling Space suddenly closed and why the Life-Hunting Demon’s core consciousness vanished continued for several days among survivors, but without any leads the topic quickly cooled off.
As the new academic year at the Mind Power Development Academy approached, related topics shot back into the spotlight.
Even though the vast majority of people were not academy students and had no chance to enroll, they still followed the news closely.
After all, most academy graduates go on to work in official departments, forming an essential middle force that supports society.
When news broke that the Academy would upgrade practical combat classes to main courses and impose casualty quotas, social media around the world erupted in heated discussion.
“Casualty quotas? Looks like they’re getting serious.”
“They should’ve done this from day one. Practical combat and Mind Power use strengthen each other. The stronger the combat skills, the deeper the understanding of Mind Power.”
“It’s not like all those Beixing people live inside official shelters and don’t know how dangerous the outside world is. If people have combat ability, they’ll behave when facing those murderous bandit gangs and mercenaries!”
Compared with Wenbei netizens’ dissent, netizens in Suroma and other countries mostly expressed an attitude of “about time,” with a hint of smugness in some posts.
Ascendants, who made up a small minority of commentators and were particularly powerful, envied the official shelter survival model.
Even when Ascendant cities allocate resources centrally, those who can allocate independently still end up buying survival supplies; by some calculations, centralized distribution might even be better.
Besides the upgrade to combat classes, the world also noticed one notable change in the Academy’s new academic year compared to the previous two: far fewer non-Beixing students were admitted.
Most of those students came from Xisiya, followed by Suroma and other nations. Many speculated whether Beixing’s officials were subtly courting other nations as preparation for the future.
Regardless, the Mind Power Development Academy enjoyed global renown, and it was difficult for governments to stop qualified nationals from applying.
On the same day, another event took place.
The Human Consortium held its first meeting since the end of the Twenty-First Apocalypse Rule in Xisiya.
Compared with past sessions, the atmosphere was cold. The Beixing representative committee chairman Gao Liangwei and Suroma’s committee chair Mary had almost no direct exchanges throughout.
Other national delegates understood that the two countries’ dispute over the “Bright Moon” Rule had not been resolved.
Matters had escalated to the point where one side had to publicly admit fault, apologize, and take responsibility, or there would be no end to the dispute.
But given the nations’ sizes and concerns about national prestige, neither would bow unless presented with rock-solid evidence.
Xisiya and several smaller countries, having deployed domestic Ascendants to participate in the Carrier Array operation, were also keen to learn the truth. If Beixing’s claims were true, they would demand compensation from Suroma for the Ascendants who had died for Suroma’s sake.
Without evidence, the smaller states were reluctant to pick sides—they feared offending either Suroma or Beixing.
Thus the meeting mostly became a platform for the host, Xisiya’s delegate Torafuto, to speak.
Because the Gambling Rule occurred in the Gambling Space and had little direct impact on the real world—indeed, those who lost their lives did not return—the Rule required little in the way of follow-up or damage control.
The only lingering question worth discussing was whether the appearance of the “demon” concept for a second time meant the existence of a large demonic civilization or species in the universe.
But with so little known, there was little to debate.
The meeting’s main business was advancing previously planned projects.
Torafuto said, “The Super City plan has completed site selection and preliminary blueprints, and construction has already begun in some areas. That is good news.”
Delegate Lu Rui nodded. “Yes. Several of our nations have screened out all Ascendants who can assist city construction and purchased a large number of related items on the Terminal Market.
Everything is ready for large-scale construction. We hope Suroma, Beixing, and Xisiya—the three main powers—can each provide part of the construction resources as decided in prior meetings.”
The three national representatives nodded. Since the plan had already been agreed upon, no one intended to back out.
“Next is the Space Migration and exploration plan,” Torafuto continued, glancing at Mary and then Gao Liangwei.
“Beixing and Suroma hold advantages in aerospace. Are you planning to start launch operations soon and proceed with deep-space tests? Everyone should remember: next February is the launch window to send rockets and a spaceship to Meltstar.”
Besides giving humanity a bleak “limited clearance number” that worsened self-destructive tendencies, the Dialoguer in the Oracle Debate Rule had also revealed another crucial piece of information: Meltstar contains magnetic substrate capable of breaking material science limitations.
Although humanity could not confirm these claims, an issue tied to the survival of civilization—even if only one percent likely—demanded attempts.
“We of Suroma certainly haven’t forgotten,” Mary said coolly. “In October we will launch rockets. Using advanced technology combined with special Mind Power abilities and supportive items, we will attempt to establish a survival outpost and launch base on Terra.”
After Mary finished, Gao Liangwei said, “Beixing plans to launch a rocket in late September to land on Terra and establish a permanent mineral extraction site. We will then use Terra’s resources to support the creation of survival hubs in Terra’s orbit.”
His announcement surprised the delegates.
Torafuto asked curiously, “Beixing plans to establish a habitation station in Terra’s orbit, not on the planetary surface?”
“Yes,” Gao Liangwei replied. “After the Scarlet Fear Rule, our internal assessment finds that building orbital ecological stations may be safer and more suitable for human colonization than trying to live on the surface of otherwise inhospitable planets.”
“Not every Rule pulls tricks on planetary surfaces,” Mary snorted, clearly displeased with Beixing’s plan.
Gao Liangwei did not respond. His dismissive silence only made Mary angrier.
Several smaller countries watched, troubled. Given the situation, if Beixing and Suroma pursued separate strategies rather than cooperating, humanity’s overall exploration efficiency would suffer.
Yet there was little that could be done; everyone knew that full, deep cooperation was the optimal human solution, but some fundamental contradictions were not easily resolved—even by the Human Consortium.
Perhaps thinking Gao Liangwei was deliberately trying to beat Suroma’s October launch with Beixing’s September window, Mary immediately countered by pointing out a major Suroma breakthrough that would arrive soon.
“Although Suroma won’t launch rockets in September, our memory digital backup plan will undergo public testing in September.”
Gasps rose around the room.
Mary stated it with apparent nonchalance, but delegates were astonished; even Gao Liangwei was surprised by Suroma’s rapid progress.
Beixing had also been advancing the research, but its laboratory head had forecast that optimistic results would only allow first tests by the end of this year or early next year—Suroma seemed to be nearly half a year ahead.
It appeared Suroma had withheld technical details during previous tech-sharing.
Gao Liangwei was not overly shocked—if Suroma had fully opened every technique that would be suspicious in itself. In truth, both Beixing and Xisiya retained key undisclosed technologies.
The Heilanja delegate could not contain his excitement and stood up from his chair: “Chair Mary, if your tests succeed, humanity will gain a major safeguard for life security!”
Mary nodded with pride. “That’s correct. However, the technology’s energy consumption poses a problem; the number of people who can be backed up will be extremely limited upon success.”
“In that case, we must accelerate the plan to convert city nuclear power stations!”
“Yes. That’s the real priority. Once memories can be backed up, regardless of whether we can fully solve survival-related Rules, it provides enormous security and allows backed-up people to operate more confidently.”
We also believe that converting city nuclear plants is urgent. Especially now that the two major threats—the parasitized forms have almost been wiped out, and the Fire Thief Worship Cult’s fanatics have been bombed into scattering with their Your Holiness’s fate unknown—without those saboteurs we can begin construction in earnest!”
Delegates were urgent on this point, even more so than on the Super City or space exploration plans. National considerations mixed with personal interests drove the urgency.
Once the memory digital backup technology matures, each delegate’s name would surely be included on backup recipient lists—but likely not at the front of the line.
If the energy gap for backups was enormous, when it would be their turn was uncertain. Thus, to ensure they could be prioritized sooner, delegates hoped a large number of nuclear plants would be built quickly.