Gao Wu: I inherited the evil organization in the game

Chapter 672 Beautiful misunderstanding

Even though "the Lord" never asked for anything in return from him, remaining silent as if he didn't exist.

On the contrary, he himself would receive gifts of power from "the Lord" every now and then, without warning, making him feel a little ashamed of himself.

It could strengthen bones, sharpen claws, or replenish vital energy and strength.

Each increase in power is different, but this morning's increase was exceptionally powerful, far exceeding any previous one.

Compared to himself a month ago before he was kidnapped, Chen Fengrui had never tried it, but he could feel that he was now terrifyingly strong.

It's probably easy to tear apart the previous 100 versions of yourself.

Actually, there's a very beautiful misunderstanding involved...

Feng Mu had always believed that the [Agent's Gift] was a one-time gift.

Because the description of [Agent's Grace lv1] clearly states: a believer can only be granted one ability at the beginning, and the ability value is anchored to your current state. Believers can inherit 50%-99% of the ability.

Therefore, Feng Mu always understood that the ability value inherited by believers is fixed at the state of "the moment he bestows it", and is fixed thereafter.

Given that he was relatively weak when he bestowed the abilities, he naturally did not believe that the 44 agents who inherited those abilities could truly inherit and develop much of the power.

Naturally, no one expects them to play any role in the short term, so after the favor is bestowed, they are ignored or forgotten.

In reality, the "current" in this entry, which refers to "using your current state as an anchor point," is not a one-time, static moment, but rather a continuous, dynamic, and constant comparison.

In other words, with every upgrade, big or small, every increase in attributes, and every enhancement of abilities after Feng Mu, all 44 agents will receive a synchronized boost.

Although the agents initially only acquired the [Sculpting] ability, Feng Mu's [Sculpting] skill level did indeed improve relatively slowly.

But his four-dimensional attributes have been steadily improving.

The destructive power of [Sculpting], or rather most skills, is directly linked to the strength of their base attribute values.

This led to a result that Feng Mu had never expected—he had always thought that his 44 agents were still a group of newly planted "seedlings," but in reality, these believers had already followed "the Lord" and upgraded several times in a rocket-like manner.

Last night, in particular, the upgrade of the [Proxy's Blessing] attribute from LV1 to LV2 brought about a global enhancement, which allowed all Proxy members to collectively experience a qualitative leap, like being reborn.

While they may not all grow into towering trees, it's not a problem for them to grow into several robust "man-eating flowers."

The result of this wonderful misunderstanding was that he, without asking for anything in return or even notifying them, repeatedly provided the agents with too much free power.

To put it more vividly, the boss is out there making money every day, while the 44 employees stay at home all day, do nothing, and wake up one day to find their salaries deposited into their accounts.

It's absolutely inverted!

Where in the world can you find such a generous boss?

Then, wouldn't the employees' devotion and respect for their boss skyrocket?

In this situation, if you don't become completely devoted to your boss and pledge your life to him, then you really don't deserve to be called a human being.

After kowtowing repeatedly to the void until his forehead was red, Chen Fengrui slowly got up and dressed.

Pushing open the bedroom door, a faint aroma of synthetic food wafted out. The house wasn't large, about fifty square meters, and was roughly divided into two rooms and a small living room that also served as a kitchen.

A woman with graying temples came out of the kitchen and placed three bowls of grayish-white porridge on the table.

The porridge was so thin that you could almost see your reflection in it, and a few swollen artificial wheat grains settled at the bottom of the bowl.

A middle-aged man was sitting at the table, staring at his phone screen.

The phone rang with the clear, articulate voice of a morning news anchor, devoid of any emotional fluctuation:

"...We once again urge all citizens who are ineligible to register, please make the most of the last registration deadline, and go to the designated registration points in each neighborhood as soon as possible to register your identity information and obtain your citizen identification code."

This is the foundation for integrating into society and enjoying rights, and it is also the first step to becoming a proud and official citizen.

To reiterate, today is the deadline for registering blank citizen IDs. Below are the detailed addresses and opening hours of each street registration point…

Recent news in District 9 has mainly revolved around the air tax, so naturally the major incident that happened in Emerald Garden yesterday wouldn't make the news.

Chen Fengrui walked to the table, pulled out the creaking old chair, and a sneer appeared on his face.

The middle-aged man looked up from his phone screen, glanced at his son, his eyes filled with weariness and helplessness, and his deeply wrinkled brows furrowed even more.

But he didn't say anything in the end; he just swiped away the news and then swiped out an advertisement.

The sound coming from the phone became excited and exaggerated, accompanied by a cheerful background music:

"...To celebrate the comprehensive upgrade of the Shangcheng air purification system, sweet air will benefit all people."

Tengguang Technology, a subsidiary of Guangming Group, has launched a groundbreaking product – the 'Qingxin' series of breathing watches, which monitor the total amount of air you breathe in real time, making it convenient for the public to record and appreciate the high-quality air they breathe every day.

As long as you inhale more of the city's sweetness than others every day, you can live longer than others!

Book now to enjoy a 20% discount and a chance to win a bottle of high-quality purified water from Uptown…

Chen Fengrui sat down, picked up the bowl, and took a sip of the lukewarm synthetic porridge. The taste was as bland as ever, with a hint of chemical additives in the aftertaste.

The sarcasm on his face deepened, and he interjected in a low voice, as if talking to himself, yet clearly addressing his parents at the table:
"Heh, it would be best to add a meter to show in real time how much tax you have to pay for each breath, so that everyone will always remember that the more they breathe, the faster they will die poor."

The middle-aged man's face darkened completely. He slammed his phone screen face down on the table, his chest heaving slightly as he glared at his son across from him.

Ever since his son "failed the citizenship test ahead of schedule," he seems to have become a completely different person. He locks himself in his small bedroom all day, refusing to see anyone or speak.

My mood seems to have calmed down a bit recently, and I'm willing to go out to eat, but the tone of my voice has become sarcastic and strange, so it would be better if I didn't say anything at all.

The middle-aged man suppressed his anger and snorted coldly:

"Alright, these are all policies issued by the Upper City Council. Who gives you the right to criticize them? Do you think you're so smart? Even eating can't shut you up!"

Chen Fengrui didn't argue back, but let out another "heh" from his nose. The sound was light and airy, but it was more infuriating than any fierce rebuttal.

He glared at his son and warned him in a low voice:
"Once you're out this door, you better watch your mouth. Your mouth is for eating and breathing, not for spouting nonsense. If you cause trouble, no one will clean up your mess!" Chen Fengrui sneered without a trace of fear.
"It is because the people of the lower city are used to keeping their mouths shut that they have become like this, and that they can no longer make a sound."

The reason we live such terrible lives isn't because we're stupid; quite the opposite, it's because most people are too clever, which is why we've all become such freaks.

The middle-aged man seemed to have been stabbed by those words; his face instantly turned from black to green, his lips trembled, and his teeth clenched so tightly they made a grinding sound.

He suddenly raised his hand, intending to slap his disobedient son, but his arm froze halfway up before slamming it heavily onto the table, making the bowls and chopsticks jump.

"Who taught you these fallacies and heresies?"

Every word the middle-aged man spoke was filled with barely suppressed anger and fear.
"Is it that freelance journalist [Old Tree on the Grave]? How many times have I told you to stop reading this nonsense online?"

These dangerous thoughts are a terrible poison; sooner or later they will take your life!

Chen Fengrui was at an age where he was fearless, and especially after obtaining free power, he felt even more fearless.

At least, he believed himself to be fearless, and upon hearing this, he scoffed again.

The middle-aged man's blood pressure spiked as he looked at his son's rebellious behavior. He took a few deep breaths, barely managing to suppress his anger, but he still had to reason with his son.

"I've also read [Old Tree on the Grave]'s article. He was the first to expose the air tax during this period, and I admit that some of what he said makes a lot of sense."

But then what? Even if he speaks out, even if everything he says is right, so what? What can be changed?

"This is how things have been in the lower town for 300 years. Can a few more people shouting a few words online really change anything?"

The middle-aged man paused, then a sneer appeared on his face as well:
"It's just inciting a few brainless people to die. The lights in the upper town will still illuminate the lower town as usual tomorrow morning, at most revealing a few fresh, rotting corpses in some corner."

And I can even guess that one of these corpses must be [the old tree on the grave].

The middle-aged man paused for a moment, then said:

"Well, maybe he's already dead, rotting, stinking, and being used as a nest by rats and cockroaches..."

The sarcasm and sneer on Chen Fengrui's face froze instantly.

He stopped scoffing and stopped trying to argue.

Because he had to admit that his father's words hit the most brutal truth: [the old tree on the grave] might really be dead, and his media account hadn't been updated in a long time.

This silent and unnoticed hiatus in the lower city only means one thing!

Seeing his son fall silent, the middle-aged man's expression softened slightly, and he earnestly tried to bring his son back on track:
"For the past 300 years, the people in the lower city have lived like this. Those who shout the loudest and yell about changing everything will eventually disappear, disappearing without a trace."

Only those who know how to keep quiet and endure can live silently on the land of the lower city.

He pointed to himself with his finger and said:

"This is how your father survived. This is how your grandfather survived. This is how your grandfather's father, your grandfather's grandfather..."

Going back three hundred years, or even further, we have always lived in this way!

As he spoke, he pointed at his son again, and said quietly:

"That's why you exist now."

And you, my son, should also live an honest and quiet life like us.

To live to get married and have children, to grow old like me, and then to honestly teach this truth to your son… that is our destiny!

Chen Fengrui was speechless. He opened his mouth several times, wanting to refute him word by word, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

If the articles by [Old Tree on the Grave] were like a tinderbox that made him angry and irritable, then his father's words were like cold mud, layer upon layer enveloping him and suffocating him.

He felt that what the old tree on the grave said was right, but his father's words also seemed to be correct.

His mother, who had been listening quietly, finally interjected to offer words of comfort:

“Son… listen to your dad. Your dad has eaten more neutralizers in his life than you have eaten synthetic rice.”

What others teach you are dead truths; only what your father teaches you are living truths!

Chen Fengrui clenched his back teeth so hard that his gums almost bled.

A surge of intense resentment and anger raged within him, yet he could find no outlet. In the end, all he could do was bitterly lament:
"Just because it has been this way for three hundred years... does that necessarily mean it's right?!"

The middle-aged man sighed, looking at his son as if he saw his own youthful passion reflected in him, but now his heart was cold.

He finished the porridge in his bowl, smacked his lips, and continued:
"Otherwise what? What do you think is right? Right and wrong aren't expressed in words, but in fists. And those who live in silence have never gained power."

As if he had found a loophole, Chen Fengrui suddenly raised his eyebrows and said defiantly:
"Impossible! The lower city clearly has the most people like us, the poorest people have the most fists combined, how could we not have any power?!"

A rare hint of mockery appeared on the middle-aged man's face as he snorted:

"Of course it has happened, of course it has happened. Over time, there will always be some poor people who get lucky or have genetic mutations and gain considerable power."

But, without exception, all of these people later became the ones who told us to shut up.

Chen Fengrui's face gradually froze, and he fell into a daze.

He didn't want to believe his father's words, but reason coldly told him that the answer was likely true, more real than gold.

Although Chen Fengrui has received the power bestowed by the "Lord," his mind is far from mature, and he still wanders in confusion.

He then lowered his head and silently prayed in his heart:

"Lord, you have given me strength, but I still do not know where the road ahead leads. Your humble believer begs you to grant me wisdom as well, to guide my destiny..."

The void seemed to be stirred by some strange force, and his innermost thoughts silently reached the ears of the "Lord".

And in the "master's" ears, a vague and unfamiliar auditory hallucination seemed to come...

(End of this chapter)