In the Xu family living room—
The little girl clung tightly to her mother, her small body trembling.
Her father tried to comfort them, forcing calm into his voice.
But even his hands… were shaking.
Then—
The calico cat, its belly wrapped in bandages, jumped down from the girl's lap.
It avoided her reaching hand.
Walked toward the TV cabinet.
Hooked the edge of the remote with its paw—
Click.
The screen went dark.
Silence.
Only the sounds outside remained—
Screaming.
Crying.
Vomiting.
They seeped in through the walls, clashing violently with the stillness inside.
The family froze.
"…Mimi?"
The television was off.
But the invisible presence—
It was still there.
Just dimmed.
Faded.
"Dad… why can we not watch it?" Xu Wanzhen asked softly.
Her father held her tighter.
His fingers trembled.
He remembered—
A stray dog.
That winter.
It had been freezing.
He had simply taken his leftover lunch.
Poured the food onto a piece of paper.
Fed it.
No grand intention.
No thought.
He had it.
The dog needed it.
That was all.
Now—
The memory didn't bring pride.
Only fear.
As if he had accidentally grasped the truth.
"…If this is the Beast God…"
His voice tightened.
"…then the only thing that can save us…"
"…is animals?"
Silence filled the room.
No one answered.
But—
His wife suddenly remembered something.
A turtle.
Years ago.
During a childhood trip.
She had seen it—
Struggling on a chopping board.
Its eyes—
Wet.
Desperate.
She couldn't bear it.
So she secretly released it.
Her parents had to apologize.
Pay compensation.
She had felt guilty for so long.
Now—
Her fingers tightened around her husband's hand.
Knuckles pale.
As if everything had already been decided.
Quietly.
Inevitably.
Outside—
Morning light slipped through the curtains.
Soft.
Warm.
Inside the house—
Peaceful.
Almost gentle.
Only then did they understand—
Kindness was never a bonus.
It was immunity.
Elsewhere—
A wooden cabin deep in the mountains.
A man writhed on the floor.
Screaming.
Rolling.
His nails clawed deep scratches into the wooden boards.
Splinters flew.
His once refined face—
Now drenched in tears, sweat, and mucus.
"AAARGH—!"
He felt like he was burning.
His skin—
Tearing.
Scorching.
Agony.
"I only… wore leather…!"
"I never killed anything myself!!"
He howled.
Collapsed.
Begging.
"Spare me… please… I beg you…"
But—
He begged the wrong existence.
From the shadows—
Cold light reflected.
Scales.
Pangolins.
Watching him.
Silently.
No pity.
Only indifference.
They had screamed too.
Once.
Begged.
For themselves.
For their kind.
No one answered.
So now—
There would be no answer.
The livestream continued.
Su Qiang—
And his group—
Half-dead.
Unable to die.
Boiling water.
Scales ripped away.
Fire.
Blunt force.
Everything—
Uncut.
Unfiltered.
Perfectly clear.
Comments flooded the screen—
—[I can't take this]
—[I'm going to throw up]
—[Stop… please stop…]
It did nothing.
The world split.
Two kinds of people.
One—
Dragged into hell.
Minds collapsing.
The other—
Untouched.
Unaffected.
The difference—
Was noticed immediately.
The livestream didn't stop.
It simply changed—
Quieter.
Crueler.
Seeping into every crack of civilization.
The next day—
The world fell into a shared nightmare.
People realized—
"Watching" itself—
Had become punishment.
Global emergency summit.
The conference room—
White lights.
Cold.
The metal edges of the long table reflected sharp lines.
Coffee—
Gone cold.
The air—
Heavy.
Almost solid.
But on every device—
The livestream still played.
They had learned something.
Something terrifying.
If no screen was actively broadcasting the punishment—
All electronic communication would collapse.
To avoid it—
Every participant—
Had to meet one condition:
No history of harming animals.
And—
Had shown kindness.
But only a few nations qualified.
Countries with strict animal protection laws.
Their representatives—
Tired.
But stable.
Others—
Restless.
Irritable.
On the edge of breaking.
Only a thread of sanity held them together.
A researcher stood before the screen.
Voice hoarse.
"…We analyzed global data."
His fingers trembled.
"Those who can still eat… sleep…"
"…even turn off the screen…"
"They are… clean."
Silence.
"And those experiencing phantom pain… breakdowns…"
He gave a bitter smile.
"…all have records."
"Even minor ones."
"Hurting a cat as a child."
"Abusing a dog."
"Buying illegal animal products."
"Liking violent content."
"Even…"
"…doing nothing."
"…looking away."
The data expanded on screen.
Purchase histories.
Transactions.
Evidence.
Cold.
Precise.
Silence—
Crushed everything.
The old man spoke.
Low.
Heavy.
"To participate… is to share guilt."
"To ignore… is to lose exemption."
"For it—"
"There are no bystanders."
A pause.
"This is… precise punishment."
The air froze completely.
No one doubted anymore.
This was not a disaster.
This was—
Judgment.
On the streets—
A grotesque self-rescue began.
Luxury leather bags burned.
The smell—
Charred flesh and perfume.
People cried.
Screamed.
Some poured expensive cat food onto the ground.
Kneeling.
Banging their heads against concrete.
Blood mixed with kibble.
Others fed dogs premium steak.
Fragrant.
Yet—
They collapsed in fear at a single bark.
Urine soaked their clothes.
In the distance—
A stray dog held half a steak in its mouth.
Watching.
Silent.
Suspicious.
Kindness—
Had become desperate.
Twisted.
A performance.
High above—
It watched.
No borders.
No nations.
Only two lights—
Filth.
And fragile goodness.
It did not interfere.
The cause—
Had already been planted.
Now—
Came the harvest.
Deep night.
All screens lit up.
Red text appeared—
[Next batch: Loading]
[Sin level: Increased]
[Notice: Observers will participate]
[Your choices will determine the outcome]
The world held its breath.
The rules—
Had changed.
It would no longer make them watch.
It would—
Make them act.
In another country—
"New Sato" kept moving.
Through the city.
For days.
He tried to live as human.
Tried to take a taxi—
None came.
Tried to book flights—
All grounded.
So he walked.
Day.
Night.
Endlessly.
His legs swelled.
Blisters tore open.
He stopped—
Only when he had to.
He checked into a hotel.
The receptionist—
Only one person.
He paid in cash.
The room—
Dusty.
Silent.
The TV—
Black.
He washed.
Ate.
Drank.
Before sleep—
He whispered:
"…Master… Master…"
Elsewhere—
His "master" tried to cross the ocean.
She even contacted smugglers.
Almost lost everything.
Barely escaped—
Thanks to a warning.
At sunset—
All screens flickered again.
Sato's livestream—
Returned.
For three days—
He had endured.
His wounds—
Infected.
Rotting.
His body tried to lick them—
But metal restraints held him still.
Fever burned him.
Yet something—
Kept him alive.
Barely.
Now—
He reached the end.
He died.
In front of the world.
And reignited fear.
In front of the screen—
Tian Shuangxin collapsed.
Kneeling.
Crying.
She knew—
That wasn't Zhizhi.
That was the one who hurt Zhizhi.
But still—
Her mind filled with memories.
Pain.
Regret.
Anger.
Guilt.
Everything—
Exploded.
At that moment—
"New Sato" froze.
On the bed.
A voice appeared.
Calm.
Gentle.
Without emotion.
"Your original body has died."
"Your master is crying for you."
"Do you wish to see?"
"…Master…"
"I want to see her."
"Please… Beast God…"
His hands clenched the sheets.
His body trembled.
"…As you wish."
A screen appeared before him.
Not the punishment livestream—
But her.
Tian Shuangxin.
She was crying.
Broken.
And somehow—
He felt it.
His eyes—
Moist.
"…Master… don't cry…"
"Zhizhi is okay…"
Somewhere—
She seemed to feel it.
She slowly calmed.
Turned.
Left.
The screen—
Cut off.
"Master! Master—!"
He panicked.
"Beast God… can I see her?"
Silence.
Then—
The voice again.
"…Even if you meet her…"
"…will she still recognize you?"
A question—
That pierced the soul.
He froze.
Couldn't speak.
For a long time—
Nothing.
Then—
"…I still want to see her."
"…Please…"
This was no longer Sato.
This was—
Zhizhi.
"…Beast God…?"
Fear.
Careful.
Respectful.
"…I can grant your wish."
A pause.
Then—
"…But—"