The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Professor Finch's office offered no warmth, only a blinding increase in brightness.

Lin Zheng stood in front of the desk, and the person opposite him was playing with an exquisite fountain pen.

Alistair Finch, wearing a well-tailored tweed jacket, his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were smiling.

That smile was icy, like a precisely calculated formula, devoid of any human emotion.

He was gracefully pushing a neatly folded document in front of Lin Zheng.

The cover of the document is printed with the logo of the "Hope Foundation," and the background is an abstract, spiraling line.

Lin Zheng looked down at the document; the paper was smooth and cold, with sharp edges.

He knew the true contents of the document; it was part of Professor Finch's core project report.

The technical terms in the report, such as "emotional data" and "load threshold," are quantitative standards for harvesting human mental energy.

He recalled what Emilia had said in the café about the brutal truth of "massive spiritual energy harvesting."

Those so-called "psychological resilience assessments" are nothing more than putting people under extreme mental stress and observing how they break down, thereby improving conversion efficiency.

Lin Zheng's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, a slightly metallic taste spreading in his mouth.

He looked up and Professor Finch's face came into view, a face with a perfect smile that always exuded a confident sense of control.

"Lin Zheng, I'm glad you accepted our invitation."

Professor Finch's voice was magnetic.

"You are a talented young man, and I have high hopes for you."

Lin Zheng simply nodded, avoiding direct eye contact with Professor Finch.

He reached for the documents on the table, his fingertips touching the paper, feeling its disguise as the truth.

That was the "Core Recruiter Agreement," which would make him the Hope Foundation's representative in the slums, responsible for recruiting the "Sleepwalkers" living on the edge of despair and the "Nightmare Fuel" already in the abyss.

They became the force that pushed them into the abyss of "nightmare fuel," the hellfire that burned them into waste.

He could imagine the diners in the imam's charity canteen, their eyes filled with numbness and confusion.

They had caught a glimmer of hope and recklessly rushed toward the bait deliberately created by Project Finch, only to be swallowed up in the end.

Lin Zheng's heart skipped a beat, filled with resistance to the role he was about to play, and a tremor of the ingenious and vicious nature of this system.

He had read countless tales of despair and betrayal in the lingering dreams of the dead, but becoming a part of it himself felt completely different.

But he must play this role well until he finds evidence that can guarantee he can take down Professor Finch.

Only in this way can he completely tear off Professor Finch's hypocritical mask.

Professor Finch handed over the pen in his hand; its surface was smooth and gleamed with a cold, hard metallic sheen.

He handed the pen to Lin Zheng.

"Sign it, Lin Zheng, and you will contribute a unique force to society, guiding lost souls."

Professor Finch's tone was seductive.

He portrays "harvesting" as "guidance," and the believers as lost sheep, with Lin Zheng as his pastor.

Lin Zheng took the pen. He wasn't hesitating; he was thinking about something interesting.

He is not Peter, the loyal bodyguard by Yahweh's side; he is Judas, the greatest traitor.

Haha, the evil man who calls himself "God" is turned against by "Judas" who fights for justice.

Lin Zheng's gaze fell on the signature area of ​​the agreement, which was blank, waiting for his name to complete it.

He saw his reflection in the glass of his desk, and he smiled.

That was anger.

It is anger at all the hypocrisy and cruelty that Professor Finch represents.

He knew that Emilia was waiting for his further message, and Evelyn, Arthur, and Shadow were waiting for his instructions.

Now it's his turn to declare war, albeit a silent one.

Without further hesitation, Lin Zheng wrote his name on the signature page.

Professor Finch withdrew the agreement.

Lin Zheng looked up, his gaze passing over Professor Finch's gold-rimmed glasses.

He looked directly into Professor Finch's seemingly gentle eyes.

"Thank you, Professor. I'll get back to work now."

He turned and left Professor Finch's office with firm steps.

Alistair Finch watched Lin Zheng's departing figure, his smile still flawless, his glasses gleaming.

He hummed a low tune, changed his gear, took out a set of fishing tackle, and went out the door.

Even in winter when it snows, Emerald Dream City isn't particularly cold.

But in order to store up energy to withstand the coming winter, fish will actively seek food more than usual.

On snowy days, the water temperature fluctuates little, making the fish feel comfortable, so they will continue to feed.

When snowflakes melt in water, they increase the dissolved oxygen content. In winter, water bodies are prone to oxygen deficiency, and the increase in dissolved oxygen will make fish more active.

Snowfall creates a sense of crisis for fish, causing them to struggle harder to survive, making it a perfect time for fishing.

The wind blowing through the winter night cuts through everyone who steps out of the warm building.

The neon lights were distorted by the snow, stretching into eerie patterns on the slippery road.

Lin Zheng felt a chill on the back of his neck, but it was no longer just the cold of the weather; it was a premonition.

This foreshadows the impending storm and the abyss he is about to step into.

Emilia waited at the exit, blending into the surrounding white snow.

As Lin Zheng stepped out the door, their eyes met.

There were no words, only eye contact, yet it spoke louder than a thousand words.

She understood the suppressed anger and determination in Lin Zheng's eyes.

Lin Zheng also understood the weariness and determination in her eyes, as well as the same resolve he had shown.

Emilia stepped forward gently and patted Lin Zheng's arm lightly.

It was just a brief touch, but warmth and strength were transmitted through the clothing.

It was a silent encouragement, and also a declaration of unwavering allegiance.

Lin Zheng gripped the stack of "Hope Foundation" documents in his hand tightly, which symbolized hypocrisy.

The paper rubbed against his palm, making a rustling sound.

He could still hear Professor Finch's grand "sermons," those lies about "guiding lost souls," echoing in his ears.

That false hope seemed even more glaring in the darkness of the night.

The hustle and bustle of the city faded away, and the pulse of the world became exceptionally clear at that moment.

They knew that the real battle had only just begun.

They now stand at the center of the battlefield, facing an unfathomable abyss of ivory tower, and the unknown beings lurking within it…