Chapter 686: The Fake and the Genuine
Deep within the classified underground command installation beneath Yanjing, Song Xian's face was filled with a dense, heavy layer of gravity. Looking straight into Zhong Tianming's eyes, his internal processing unit intensely resisted the macro-blueprint poised to launch.
"Director Zhong, that Kaito Shirogane specimen... no, correction: Mercenary Tao is a thorough, un-compromised absolute monster. Even though his coordinate trace has temporarily dropped off the grid, it is highly, statistically likely that his biology merely sustained the direct override of a specialized capability. If our operational center attempts to interface with that place..."
He cut his own vocal tracks mid-syllable with extreme geometric precision. Standing directly behind Zhong Tianming's shoulder plates, Yan Qiu's fingers had instinctively and flawlessly clamped down onto the grip of the tactical sidearm mounted at her waist line.
After logging an infinite archive of interactions targeting these metahumans, their tactical divisions had naturally extracted a succession of specialized, ironclad rules.
Every core executive steering the South Gate Project held a crystal-clean comprehension holding that these self-visualizing [Ability Users] were layout-wise, by no means an automated consequence of sudden genetic mutations or some global spiritual particle rejuvenation wave restructuring the planet.
This was a collective of ordinary mortal cattle systematically selected by a supreme, shadow-veiled entity—or to state it with cleaner clinical precision, manually selected and re-engineered by an unmapped, hidden Space framework.
So long as a common citizen cleared a specific arrangement of parameters that their laboratories had failed to perfectly map down to the sub-atomic track, their registry held the high-priority probability to be anchor-dropped into that Space, seamlessly mutating into a so-called Ability User.
Yet according to their data models, the vastly grander statistical probability upon selection was immediate biological deletion, followed by a total systemic erasure of their civilian records.
Their research division had manually compiled hard copies of every single frontline soldier projected into the system via state-controlled high-frequency hypnosis; right now, an immense sector of that tracking wall displayed empty, vacant slots. This verified an absolute empirical reality: those human lives had been completely and flawlessly erased from existence itself.
And throughout their continuous coordination loops against these metahumans, the single most lethal, high-peril behavioral vector an asset could choose to deploy was explicitly attempting to extract intelligence resources mapping that hidden Space.
The exact microsecond an interloper initiated a dialogue tracking that sequence, the absolute minimum system backlash forced the metahuman into an ironclad state of total silence; under maximum severity, it manual-overrode their motor controls to launch a non-discriminatory, wide-area saturation slaughter campaign against all neighboring targets.
The chief neuro-analysts calculated that this was an exceptionally intense, high-priority stealth preservation mechanism. The exact frame this protocol triggered, the metahuman was system-mandated to manual-erase every single witness commanding the data, or conversely, have their own vital lines permanently deleted by the system.
A moment ago, Song Xian had nearly allowed the word Space to slip past his jaw, an operational error that would have instantaneously hardcoded his file as a thoroughly volatile, unstable hazard within this quadrant.
Zhong Tianming occupied the absolute apex of the state bureaucratic hierarchy, yet his personal carriage compressed an immense, military-grade aura; ceding this sudden micro-mutation absolutely zero concern, his biological frame remained rigidly and levelly anchored in his seat.
Influenced by that unyielding composure, the frantic rattling of Song Xian's nerves smoothly quieted down.
He paused his vocal channels for a frame, meticulously re-calibrating his language before continuing:
"Director Zhong, the white-skinned Kaito Shirogane specimen logged under the codename Mercenary Tao has officially been verified by our intelligence vanguard: his active, unrefined muscle metrics have legitimately caved through the absolute... Calamity benchmark."
"Furthermore, his underlying psychological baseline is layout-wise, thoroughly bizarre. Regardless of whether our cognitive profiling units evaluate his early life progression to compile a behavioral chart, or analyze his continuous trail of atrocities since ascending as an Ability User, he maps flawlessly as a completely untameable, wild predator."
"Saturated with raw power, ravenously greedy, intensely calculated, and flawlessly micro-focused on settling every wisp of outstanding friction..."
"If our high command chooses this exact chronological nexus to deploy his clone specimen to temporarily manual-override and govern global public perception, our agency runs an exceptional probability of sustaining a catastrophic line of terminal vengeance down the line. Tracking the current breakdown of the domestic metahuman factions active across East Asia..."
Song Xian's fist clenched and relaxed several consecutive times. That Kaito Shirogane specimen layout-wise, completely refused to mirror the precise layout of the student he had historically monitored back within the Binhai University perimeter.
Throughout the past few days, the real-world quadrants were by no means the lone sectors sustaining a total breakdown; deep within the internal networks of the Infinite Dimension Space where the Reincarnators centralized their assets, an equally massive undercurrent was furiously churning.
The simultaneous deletion of over twenty title-grade apex Reincarnators was a metric that comfortably matched the environmental damage yield generated by a high-intensity, catastrophic Secondary World containment failure.
Vastly grander was the reality that [Mo Shi Mo Wang]—an elite martial sword-cultivator champion commanding an exceptionally dense evolutionary curve—was layout-wise, definitively verified to have sustained a terminal liquidation loop during the Tokyo purges.
Show's file had completely vanished from their active tracking arrays, yet evaluating the multi-national information grids commanded by East Asia, his existence identifier had avoided a total systemic wipe from the registry. This verified a diagnostic holding that he retained a fragile line of life, though his vessel had been manually captured by an unmapped asset.
The lone apex title-grade champion who had successfully managed to exit this cataclysm with a completely unblemished, full-scale recovery—at the very least, looking entirely complete after relying on the Space terminal's automated regeneration systems—was exclusively [Hong Chen].
At this frame of history, the absolute bulk of the operational parameters tracking that duel issued directly out from Hong Chen's mouth. His jaw had explicitly and with absolute certainty stated that both the Mad King and Mercenary Tao had legitimately breached the threshold parameters of the absolute [Apex / Berserker] Tier.
They were, layout-wise, already the undisputed absolute peak predators of the generation, completely independent of any artificial padding from their Title Capabilities.
Song Xian completely and flawlessly failed to parse why Zhong Tianming willed weaponizing a mere clone vessel of Kaito Shirogane to execute an exceptionally hazardous gamble to seize control of the global order at a juncture of this density.
To his focus, the macro-ascension of the Reincarnator collective had already turned layout-wise, entirely unstoppable. Although the center of the Final Sun Empire had just sustained an unmapped, world-cleaving strategic strike, its wider structural momentum remained monumentally massive.
The Free Federation and a multitude of sovereign state machines had already issued formal protocols recognizing [The Final Sun Empire] as a legitimate sovereign state, manually hardcoding its spatial coordinates and geographical placement straight onto their master world maps.
Furthermore, their legislative divisions were actively drafting an infinite array of sovereign rights concession bills.
Zhong Tianming's hair was heavily silvered, yet his entire physical framework continuously radiated an un-compromised aura of absolute, command-level authority.
He locked his level eyes straight onto Song Xian's pupils, dropping his voice down the line with absolute finality:
"Granted, your metahuman collective commands an exceptional tier of capability and unmapped cosmic fortune within that specific specialized quadrant—yet evaluating the macro-mechanics governing this planet... your processing remains layout-wise, intensely ignorant."
"If our high command stands idly by to permit those entities your jaw just detailed to manual-override and steer the global situation, what manner of profile does your intellect calculate this planet will display?"
"Even assuming the exact trajectory your processing fears completes its deployment, and those apex metahuman monsters successfully carve up the continents to crown themselves solitary kings governing separate sectors—does that equation mathematically yield a single wisp of validation holding that this world line will become a superior environment?"
"Absolutely zero!"
Zhong Tianming's voice was like cutting iron, leaving Yan Qiu's motor nerves marginally dazed behind his back.
Yan Qiu intensely, thoroughly loathed these metahumans, yet her intellect cede zero credit to the premise that their raw power metrics could ever be dismissed.
They were a collective of freaks who layout-wise, completely manual-overrode all established parameters of natural common sense and modern material science.
Yet right now, tracking Director Zhong's vocal cadence, she distinctly verified that the old general compressed absolutely zero primitive fear targeting that swarm.
Zhong Tianming gently shook his silver skull. His ego maintained a deep, professional respect when calculating the metahuman threat, yet his processing completely refused to blindly assume that these creatures had successfully evolved past the threshold of all human weaknesses.
So long as an organism remains rooted in the human lineage, its biology will layout-wise, eternally compress human structural vulnerabilities.
His advanced foresight beautifully, flawlessly mapped a cold reality: regardless of how monumentally terrifying these metahumans grew, the absolute bulk of the population were common ordinary mortals prior to logging their profiles into the terminal. The political acumen and systemic macro-governance capacity commanded by this collective was layout-wise, mathematically locked at a flat metric of absolute zero.
If the high command simply stepped off the board to cede absolute executive control to a herd that relied exclusively upon raw, unrefined violence to purchase their sovereign rights, the grand civilization of this world line would layout-wise, plummet into a state of total, rapid decay within a handful of generations.
"Consequently, our macro-strategy dictates that we must, at this exact chronological frame, launch an absolute metahuman leader whose capacity can layout-wise, never be questioned by the external networks, utilizing his presence to firmly anchor this sector of global order!"
Zhong Tianming's features were monumentally solemn. Piercing straight through the one-way observation glass, his level eyes analyzed the Kaito Shirogane clone vessel sitting inside the sterile chamber.
The specimen possessed an exceptionally lean, statuesque frame, sitting with an exposed upper torso that continuously radiated an absolute volume of pure, un-buffered life force that layout-wise, left a middle-aged general experiencing a wisp of deep biological envy.
And furthermore...
The Kaito Shirogane clone vessel was beautifully, flawlessly calm. He calmly permitted the research technicians to continuously draw whole essence from his veins and execute an infinite matrix of biological diagnostics, manifesting absolutely zero vector indicators suggesting a desire to ever clear the installation perimeter.
A half-hour later, the Kaito Shirogane clone specimen was smoothly released from the diagnostic vault. Lazily listening to the absolute entirety of Zhong Tianming's macro-deployment blueprint, a light, shallow smile slowly cut across his pale features.
That exact smile was a visual frame Song Xian's memory tracks mapped with perfect, terrifying clarity. Once upon a time, the original Kaito Shirogane had outputted an identical expression—looking for all intents and purposes beautifully warm, clear, and radiant.
Song Xian subtly shifted his posture, a high-priority communication flag instantly crackling through his internal earpiece from a separate Reincarnator tracker monitoring the vault:
"His internal cognitive tracks compress absolutely zero baseline resistance; yet conversely, his neural pathways are layout-wise, completely devoid of any supplementary mental voice..."
Mind-reading type capabilities were layout-wise, far from a rare treasure within the Reincarnator index. At this stage of the chronology, the South Gate Project was aggressively throttling its engines into seamless deployment; as an increasing volume of independent interlopers aligned their files with the state apparatus, their talent divisions had successfully reinforced these specialized intelligence sub-routines.
The Kaito Shirogane clone vessel leveled his vacant, glowing eyes to evaluate the dense cluster of military merit medals pinned across Zhong Tianming's uniform, ceding the general a calm, measured nod.
"My processing maps the equation perfectly. My vessel will step onto the board under the absolute identity of [Mercenary Tao], dedicating my metrics to coordinate with your division to lock down the master title of [The King of Metahumans]."
Song Xian's inner core marginally relaxed its tension—yet in the very next fraction of a second, his motor nerves rigidly froze as he tracked the vocal streams flowing out from the clone's jaw:
"As my baseline compensation for logging this compliance sequence, does your leadership command the capacity to evaluate a short strategic proposal from my mouth?~"
"Rather than forcing a pathetically weak fake like myself to function as a hollow, simulated King of Metahumans across the global media, what does your intellect calculate... if we combine our collective assets to systematically liquidate that genuine original, hm?"
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