December 30, Evening.
The night before the new rule was announced, the internet was buzzing with excitement.
Many people were waiting for the new year—once midnight passed, they’d leap from 2042 into 2043, officially entering the third year since the Doomsday Rules arrived.
From the Fire Thief’s arrival in 2040 to 2043, three years had brought too many changes to count.
People had gone from despair to hope, from hope to despair, from despair to numbness... and now, many had reached a state of desensitization after too much stimulation.
To put it more precisely, after three years, humanity had finally transformed from a species that pursued stability into one that could accept the concept of “instability as the norm.”
Stability was a stroke of luck; instability was the baseline.
Once this mindset took root, fewer and fewer people lamented the unpredictability of life.
This new way of thinking, spreading silently like a contagion, had also caused many grand-scale institutions to crumble rapidly.
Take the “Human Consortium,” for example—the grand alliance people had once placed their hopes in was now rarely mentioned.
Even though the organization still held regular meetings and issued statements, its credibility had been completely drained after being battered time and time again.
Now, as 2043 began, it was foreseeable that isolation would gradually replace openness once more. Countries were doubling down on their own chosen investments, and technical details were no longer being shared deeply with each other.
Whether this was good or bad for humanity as a whole, no one could say for sure. But everyone was gradually accepting one truth: their own feelings mattered most.
At the Countermeasures Research Office, Zhang Minglu and Zhao Ming were in the office, organizing data files on the official Ascendants.
As the training progressed, Zhang Minglu grew more and more satisfied with Zhao Ming. The young man’s mind and abilities were a perfect match—having only been at the base for a short time, he was already more professional than many analysts who had been there for two years.
What’s more, Zhang Minglu had noticed that, perhaps because Zhao Ming had spent a long time in field operations with wilderness groups, he also handled external missions exceptionally well.
That was another rare advantage.
The Countermeasures Research Office had no shortage of talent, but many of them only performed well in safe environments. Once they stepped out into the field, they were prone to mistakes due to nerves, making them unreliable for important tasks.
“Doctor, I’m done organizing this,” Zhao Ming said, setting down his tablet.
Zhang Minglu looked over in surprise: “You finished updating tens of thousands of people’s data that quickly?”
After every rule, the official Ascendant database required an update.
Following each rule, the Ascendants would more or less improve. The conventional manifestation was an increase in their Mind Power upper limit, while the unconventional ones included various effect-based items acquired by different individuals... All of these were variables that needed real-time updates.
Even with AI assistance to lighten the load, some critical data still required manual verification.
“It was manageable,” Zhao Ming said, looking relaxed. “I just scanned it once, then handled the work in my Thought Palace.”
“What a convenient ability... If you’d lived in peacetime, kid, you might’ve ended up as a human library,” Zhang Minglu remarked, both amazed and envious.
Zhao Ming shook his head: “In peacetime, there’s no Fire Thief, so there wouldn’t be any special abilities.”
“Hmm, that’s true.”
Zhang Minglu rubbed his brow and took a brief rest.
He looked at Duanmu Feng and brought up the previous investigation.
“He and Zheng Cheng’s investigation of Zheng Chengfeng haven’t been placed under isolation review yet.”
“Isolation review? Because of the student casualties?”
“No, you haven’t heard. After he was suspended from teaching, he got into a conflict with the Dean and other teachers in the academy’s meeting room—he actually threw punches.”
Zhao Ming raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem too surprised.
Earlier, when Duanmu Feng had been about to go at Aaron, that manic look had already revealed that his emotions were constantly on the verge of spiraling out of control.
“Who would’ve thought he’d do something like that? The scene was pretty dangerous. Luckily, Shi Jingyi was there. She stepped in and stopped Duanmu Feng, breaking his arm in the process.”
After Duanmu Feng fled the academy, the Countermeasures Research Office received a report from the Dean and immediately sent a mobile team to arrest him.
Zhao Ming frowned after hearing this: “This is serious. That day in the classroom, when Duanmu Feng went after Aaron, there was clear murderous intent. I’d say his outburst in the meeting room wasn’t much different.”
“Dean Zhou also said Duanmu Feng looked like he was about to kill someone, which terrified the teachers. They’re demanding strict punishment,” Zhang Minglu said.
“Has the base decided how to handle it?” Zhao Ming asked.
“Not yet. At the very least, a demotion and revocation of benefits are certain, and he’ll be locked up for a while.”
After Zhang Minglu finished speaking, he noticed Zhao Ming’s strange expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“...If that’s all the punishment, it’s too lenient. The academy side definitely won’t be satisfied.”
Zhang Minglu looked surprised: “Really? But Duanmu Feng was a hero who fought in the Joint Force and battled parasitized forms. That’s where he got his combat trauma from. Plus, he’s one of Head Gao’s military subordinates...
Besides, even though he was impulsive this time, he didn’t cause any serious consequences—in fact, he ended up with a broken arm. In that case, would a harsh punishment be too much? And the academy itself is an official institution—would they really push back that strongly?”
Zhang Minglu wasn’t pulling rank on Zhao Ming; he was genuinely discussing the matter with him.
He knew that Zhao Ming, an Ascendant who had survived in the wilderness for over two years, often operated on a completely different set of principles compared to people inside the base.
Under such divergent perspectives, both sides might gain something from the clash.
After hearing Zhang Minglu’s words, Zhao Ming shook his head slightly: “The key point isn’t the consequences, but the fact that Duanmu Feng had the intent to kill and actually acted on it.
Doctor, you might not know this, but in wilderness survival groups, if you run into a conflict of interest with another group, you have to fight to the death. Otherwise, if you back down, they’ll keep pushing, and the situation will only get worse.
The academy might be an official institution, but the teachers have been their own separate unit for a long time. They’re bound to band together. That’s common in the wilderness, and I think it’s inevitable within a system too.”
Zhang Minglu listened to Zhao Ming’s analysis, a thoughtful look spreading across his face: “Is that so...”
Though he had interacted with many Ascendants, he had always stayed within the base.
When it came to understanding the lawless world beyond the “shelter system,” he was indeed not as sharp as Zhao Ming.
“The most troublesome part isn’t even the academy’s dissatisfaction,” Zhao Ming added. “I saw in the database that ‘Shadow’ Guan Tong has a very close relationship with Shi Jingyi. If he finds out about this, he definitely won’t let it slide.”
Zhang Minglu was jolted by this realization.
I completely overlooked Guan Tong’s angle.
Guan Tong was an Ascendant who had always roamed outside the jungle world—a man who operated entirely by the law of the jungle, yet his behavior was somehow out of step with the authorities.
And he had taught at the academy for a few months, probably becoming close with some of the teachers. His bond with Shi Jingyi was especially deep... If he found out about this, knowing his personality, he would indeed not let Duanmu Feng off easy.
“Then, Zhao Ming, how would you handle this?” Zhang Minglu quickly asked.
Zhao Ming thought for a moment: “I’d first consult the academy’s opinion, then deal with Duanmu Feng severely.”
“Severely...” Zhang Minglu gave a wry smile. “I’m afraid Head Gao won’t be happy about that.”
Zhao Ming shrugged and didn’t say anything more.
Before midnight, Guan Tong and Shi Jingyi were in his shelter, the very place he had prepared for her secluded meditation.
The two had already agreed that once the new rule was announced, if no special response was needed, Shi Jingyi would enter secluded meditation in this shelter.
The advantage of meditating here was twofold: no need to worry about being disturbed, and guaranteed safety.
When midnight arrived, they looked at each other and exchanged a smile, softly saying: “Happy New Year.”
“2043... At most, by 2045, all forty-nine Doomsday Rules will have been issued,” Guan Tong said, holding Shi Jingyi’s hand. “We need to hold on together until then.”
“Mm.” Shi Jingyi’s usually spirited and heroic face was now extraordinarily serene as she nodded gently and gazed out the window.
In the distance, someone was setting off fireworks to celebrate the new year.
The dazzling display in the sky made people momentarily dazed, briefly forgetting that on the very same day, a new Doomsday Rule would be announced.
And so the night passed. At nine o’clock the next morning, the Fire Thief delivered its New Year’s gift to all of humanity.
[The Twenty-Fifth Doomsday Rule has been announced]
[Doomsday Rule Twenty-Five: 「Doorway Stray」]
[Rule Content: Upon the announcement of this rule, all physical entrance doors with an “open/close” function across the globe will generate a Spatial Folding effect. The destination these doors lead to will be randomly replaced with another spatial location. The replacement result will remain fixed while the door remains open. Closing it will trigger another replacement. The duration of this rule is 30 days.]
[Success Reward: 3000 Ascension Coins]
[Failure Penalty: None]
[Note: Among the universe’s many intelligent civilizations, some have achieved interstellar navigation through Spatial Folding technology. However, even more intelligent civilizations met their destruction before fully developing this technology—because, until the positioning technology is mature, you can never be certain whether what lies behind the door is paradise or hell.]