Countermeasures Research Office Base.
Zhao Ming had been waiting in the common area lounge for a few minutes when Zhang Minglu pushed the door open and walked in.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Zhang Minglu, responsible for the cultivation and management of official Ascendants.”
“Hello, Dr. Zhang.”
Zhang Minglu looked at the young man before him, around twenty years old, wearing a pure white T-shirt. His appearance seemed utterly ordinary, yet he exuded a calmness rare among his peers.
“Zhao Ming, well... I’ll start with some regrettable news. The people you provided information about—the authorities weren’t able to rescue them. The commander of the city’s armed forces told me they used a Life Detector from a distance to scan that Forest Park, but found nothing. It’s safe to assume your friends are gone.”
When Zhang Minglu finished, he saw that Zhao Ming’s expression remained composed, though a trace of sorrow lingered in his eyes. It was clear the young man had already anticipated this outcome.
“I knew this would happen from the moment they insisted on going,” Zhao Ming said. “But I couldn’t stop them.”
Zhang Minglu offered reassurance. “This isn’t your fault. Your friends knew the odds were slim to none, yet they still went. You might not want to hear this, but it’s actually a sign of self-destructive tendencies.”
Zhao Ming stayed silent. He didn’t dislike hearing it—he’d already seen it coming.
“Many people who can’t handle the psychological pressure do this sort of thing. During the [Scarlet Fear] rule period, plenty of people deliberately looked up at Terra at night. The authorities never publicize it, but that doesn’t mean it happens rarely.”
Zhang Minglu was blunt.
In this mad era, far too many people had become psychologically twisted.
Even those who had managed to survive until now often suffered from severe mental issues.
Many were walking a tightrope, or like camels burdened with heavy loads—one trivial thing could be the final straw, driving them to self-destruction.
But the authorities certainly couldn’t publicize it, wouldn’t even openly discuss these matters. Doing so wouldn’t help; it would only provoke more people to follow suit.
“I heard your ability is [Thought Palace]?”
Zhang Minglu dropped the heavy topic and shifted to abilities.
“Yes.”
“Aside from giving you high-definition image-based memory, does it have any other effects?”
“It also allows ‘Thought Acceleration,’” Zhao Ming said. “When I fully immerse my consciousness in the ‘palace,’ my thinking speed surpasses real-world time.”
Zhang Minglu’s eyes lit up. “Meaning, when you activate this acceleration ability, maybe only five minutes pass in the outside world, but you’ve already spent an hour in deep thought?”
Zhao Ming nodded. “The ratio isn’t exact, but that’s roughly the idea.”
“That’s quite an impressive ability...”
Zhang Minglu couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.
He often felt he didn’t have enough time. As an Ascendant cultivator, he had too much to handle every day. Just talking with psychologically troubled Ascendants and guiding them consumed a huge chunk of his time.
How many times had he wanted to spend several hours in deep thought, only to have his flow shattered by sudden miscellaneous tasks? It was easy to imagine that if he had Zhao Ming’s “Thought Acceleration” ability, this problem would be solved in an instant.
“Besides thought acceleration, is there anything else? Or, more precisely, what direction are you currently developing the [Thought Palace] ability?” Zhang Minglu asked with keen interest.
Zhao Ming didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he posed a question: “Dr. Zhang, may I ask—did you have me sent to the Countermeasures Research Office base and question me in such detail because you intend to keep me here?”
Zhang Minglu smiled. “You’re a smart person, so you can see it clearly. Yes, I personally admire you. Excellent ability, care for your companions—these are exactly the traits we’ve always wanted.”
“Thank you for the high praise,” Zhao Ming said. “My current development direction for [Thought Palace] is probabilistic computation.”
“Oh? Tell me more.”
“Absolute memory allows me to build a computational model in my mind using enough information. From that, I can judge the probability of an event occurring or the likelihood of different outcomes from a decision.”
Zhang Minglu nodded upon hearing this. “I see. So you want to take this development path. Not bad, it does have promising potential.”
Zhang Minglu looked at Zhao Ming and made a decision in his heart.
“Zhao Ming, come work with me. Your ability needs a stable environment to develop—only the Countermeasures Research Office can provide that. Plus, my help and others’ will speed up this progress.”
“...Dr. Zhang, I can agree to that. But I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want to see someone. She should be in some shelter right now. I have things I need to say to her.”
...
Not long after Zhang Minglu finished talking with Zhao Ming, Gao Liangwei summoned him and Li Meng. The three held a Small Meeting in the director’s office.
Gao Liangwei said, “Though this rule still has some time before it ends, looking at the current situation, casualties have stabilized.”
Li Meng and Zhang Minglu both expressed agreement.
The strategies implemented by Beixing during this period had proven quite effective. Though rampant plant growth in wild areas couldn’t be controlled, every city with a concentrated population had undergone thorough cleanup efforts.
“The casualties are mainly from the cleanup squads’ soldiers,” Li Meng said. He had since been promoted to manager of the Countermeasures Research Office’s Intelligence and Statistics Department, so he had the relevant data at his fingertips.
“For those living in shelters, because the facilities are sturdy enough and can block spores and other contaminants produced by some mutated plants, there haven’t been many casualties.”
“Mm,” Gao Liangwei said. “That was the original intention when the country resolved to invest massive resources in building many official shelters. By the way, Li Meng, how is the progress on the Ascendant rank appointment?”
“Very smooth,” Li Meng said. “The vast majority of Ascendants affiliated with the authorities have accepted willingly.”
“‘Vast majority’ means some still haven’t accepted.”
“...Yes. A very small number of Ascendants resist this policy and are unwilling to accept military rank.”
Gao Liangwei asked, “Are any key personnel among them?”
Li Meng looked at Zhang Minglu, who hemmed and hawed. “Well, there is one—Chen Na.”
“That sensing ability user, Chen Na?” Gao Liangwei thought for a moment. “If I recall, didn’t she join the base long ago? Why is she still resisting this?”
“This...” Zhang Minglu looked helpless. “I heard from Silver Fox that Chen Na wants to go help Guan Tong in the future, so she doesn’t want to be too tightly bound to the Countermeasures Research Office.”
Gao Liangwei frowned slightly at this but said nothing.
Zhang Minglu then proactively brought up another matter: “By the way, Director, I’ve also discovered a very promising young man...”
He described Zhao Ming’s situation and finally summarized, “My idea is to observe him for a while after he enters the base. If we confirm his character is sound and his ability is sufficient, then I plan to cultivate him as my successor.”
Hearing this, both Li Meng and Gao Liangwei were somewhat surprised.
“Successor?” Li Meng looked at Zhang Minglu. “Old Zhang, you’re not even forty yet. Why the rush to find a successor?”
Zhang Minglu chuckled. “In this era of Doomsday Rules, forty can be considered ‘elderly.’ Besides, the rules are unpredictable, no one can foresee anything. So I want to prepare in advance. That way, if something happens to me, someone can take over my work and shoulder the responsibility of cultivating official Ascendants.”
Li Meng was speechless. “Old Zhang, I think you’re borrowing trouble. You’re a ‘treasure’ of the research office. No one would let anything happen to you. If they did, why would the director assign Dragon Soul as your personal bodyguard?”
“Hah...”
Zhang Minglu looked at Gao Liangwei, a trace of gratitude in his eyes.
He knew full well that having Dragon Soul—one of the top-ranked Ascendants at the base—as his bodyguard was a sign of Gao Liangwei’s regard and care for him.
And it was precisely out of gratitude for this regard that he was preparing for a rainy day, cultivating a successor with a two-pronged plan against unforeseen circumstances.
“If Dr. Zhang wants to cultivate, then go ahead,” Gao Liangwei said. “Even if this [Thought Palace] ability isn’t for succession, once it develops, it can still make a great contribution to the Countermeasures Research Office.”
“Yes, that’s what I think too.” After speaking, Zhang Minglu smiled and teased Li Meng across from him. “Old Li, you should consider finding a successor too.”
Li Meng’s face darkened, and he adjusted his glasses. “I’m not in a rush. I still plan to live to the very end. Besides, my job isn’t that special—I don’t need to cultivate any particular successor.”
Once the joking subsided, they returned to serious business.
Li Meng’s expression turned solemn. “Director, based on the intelligence gathered, several of those Suroman observers in the [A Bright Moon Rises Over the Sea] rule have gone missing recently. They’re suspected to have been silenced.
Among the participants, only two are still publicly active: Joiessen, Dean of the First Research Institute and planner of the ‘array action,’ and Andrew, holder of the array item and now a council member under the Senate.”
Zhang Minglu snorted coldly. “The others don’t get much attention; silencing them wouldn’t cause waves. But Joiessen holds a high position, and Andrew—even if just a nominal council member—is still a council member. If they die casually, it won’t be easy to explain to the public.”
“Andrew isn’t just a nominal council member,” Li Meng added. “He’s also widely recognized as a ‘hero’ by many Suromans with plenty of supporters. Someone like him suddenly disappearing would stir up a huge storm.”
“A hero... Hah. Have the Suromans forgotten that when the Cultists of the Fire Thief Cult attacked their city, it was the squad led by ‘Shadow’ that intercepted them? Without Guan Tong buying time, the millions of Suromans in that city wouldn’t have fared so well.”
Li Meng nodded. “You’re right, Old Zhang. So Suroma isn’t monolithic. Some voices doubt Andrew and trust Guan Tong more. It’s just that these voices are forcibly suppressed and can’t express themselves in Suroma’s public sphere.”
Hearing this, Zhang Minglu grew curious. “Then how do you know, Old Li?”
“The Ascendant Home, of course. That’s a place for free exchange worldwide. Many suppressed Suromans share their true thoughts there.”
Zhang Minglu slapped his forehead. “Right, I forgot about that platform.”
Li Meng looked at Gao Liangwei. “Director, it seems the Suroma higher-ups have decided to destroy the evidence and then use delay tactics to make the public forget this matter.”
“Exactly,” Zhang Minglu said indignantly. “I hate to admit it, but in this era, people only focus on the current and upcoming Doomsday Rules. For what’s passed, the brain’s tendency to avoid painful memories makes them forget quickly... If time drags on, even if the truth comes out later, I’m afraid not many will care.”
“Uninvolved parties might gradually forget with time, but the ones involved won’t. Guan Tong will definitely retaliate—just a question of when.”
Just as the three were discussing, the red phone on the table suddenly rang.
Li Meng and Zhang Minglu immediately fell silent. They both knew that phone was the director’s direct line to the nation’s highest decision-making level.
Its ringing now meant the top leadership had something important to convey.
Gao Liangwei picked up the phone and placed the receiver to his ear.
After listening for a moment, he said in a deep voice, “I understand.”
When the call ended, facing their curious but hesitant gazes, Gao Liangwei took the initiative to inform them.
---