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

The cold metal scraped against his back.

"Turn left, crawl thirteen meters, now."

The only sounds coming through the headset were commands that had to be obeyed.

Lin Zheng's body no longer belonged to him; it was a machine executing a piece of code from the outside.

He turned left.

The broken bellows was throbbing violently, and each breath was accompanied by a burning pain.

The ventilation ducts were filled with a thick layer of dust and the smell of rust.

Thirteen meters.

Distance is stretched into an infinite concept.

His knees and elbows were already worn raw, and each friction against the rough metal surface took away a piece of flesh.

"The third connection point, vertically downwards, has a maintenance ladder there."

He doesn't need to think; thinking is superfluous and would consume the only remaining energy he has to maintain his heartbeat.

All he needs to do is obey.

The instinct for survival is reduced to the absolute execution of instructions.

He found the connection point, a dark, square opening.

Without hesitation, he rolled over, his legs plunging into the darkness as he groped for the cold steps.

A dull cracking sound came from his ribs, but he didn't stop.

Pain is proof of being alive.

The sound from the headset was the only way to survive.

Meanwhile, in the square outside the main lecture hall of Miskatonic University, the night was silently torn apart.

Three black vans slid into the shadows, without license plates, their tires barely making a sound as they rolled over the ground.

The car door slid open, and twelve men dressed in black combat uniforms filed out.

Their equipment had no markings, no national flag, no unit number, and their faces were covered by functional black masks.

They are ghosts, unrecorded cogs deep within the state apparatus.

In a mobile command vehicle not far away, Theodore Sterling sat in front of a row of screens.

"First, cut off and clean up all uploaded files and traces, and make sure that they are not allowed to circulate on any network. Use the media and broadcasting system to cover up and shirk responsibility, and repeatedly brainwash the public."

The screen displays architectural diagrams of the university, thermal imaging signals, and audio spectrum analysis.

Theodore Sterling got out of the car, straightened his suit, and looked up at the gloomy sky.

"I am 'The Shepherd'," his voice transmitted to the task force via encrypted line. "'The Sheepfold' has been contaminated. The primary objective is to retrieve 'The Leader,' codenamed 'The Piper.'"

"Secondary objective: capture 'noise,' codename 'variable.'"

"The FBI's perimeter cordon will be in place in ten minutes; until then, we will clear the site."

He picked up a cup of coffee.

"Technical team, execute the 'noise protocol'," Sterling ordered.

Within the task force, two technicians quickly approached the building's communication interfaces.

Their movements were precise and efficient; they pried open the panel, connected their devices, and their fingers flew across the portable keyboard.

A few seconds later, every loudspeaker still in operation across the university, from classrooms to corridors, from the library to the gymnasium, simultaneously emitted a piercing, irregular white noise.

The sound wasn't meant to cover anything up, but rather to create a shock.

It is an acoustic brute force, using chaos to fight chaos, utterly tearing apart the meticulously woven stream of spiritual data of "Lullaby".

"The agreement is in effect," the technician reported. "The Piper's mental broadcasts have been suppressed."

"Assault team, move in."

"Bang!"

A flashbang grenade exploded at the entrance of the lecture hall.

A dazzling white light and a deafening roar instantly filled the entire space.

This is pure physical violence—simple, direct, and effective.

Lin Zheng, who was inside the pipe, heard the noise.

It traveled through the metal pipe walls, making his eardrums buzz.

But the moment the noise started, the pervasive, sweet yet deadly melody in my mind faded and disappeared instantly.

The mental stress decreased dramatically.

He was panting heavily, almost collapsing.

"They're here," the voice in the earpiece showed a slight fluctuation for the first time. "Speed ​​up, the abandoned exhaust duct of the boiler room is down here."

Lin Zheng slid down the ladder, his feet landing on a sticky patch of ground.

This is the building's insides, filled with scalding steam pipes and old valve wheel.

"Walk along the wall, and after seven meters there will be a downward-facing sewage outlet. Open it."

The assault team re-entered the lecture hall in a standard diamond formation.

The white noise continued, suppressing any remaining mental pollution.

They saw the agents standing motionless, frozen in place like wax figures in various poses, with solidified black liquid flowing from their seven orifices.

The team did not waste any time on them.

The beams of tactical flashlights crisscrossed, quickly locking onto the person in the center of the podium.

Alistair Finch.

He stood there, his face showing no sign of panic, but rather a hint of admiration.

Finch pressed the switch again, and the lullaby turned off.

"Turn off the noise protocol and listen to what he has to say?" Theodore gave an order that could kill the assault team members on the scene, but everyone carried it out without hesitation.

"Brutal, but effective."

Finch spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to penetrate one's very soul.

"Typical federal style, using louder noise to cover up discordant notes."

The team leader did not answer.

His gun was pointed steadily at Finch.

"The 'Flute Player' has been located; he is not resisting," the captain reported to the command vehicle.

"Don't be so tense, soldier." Finch smiled and raised a hand, pointing to the nearest "formatted" agent.

The agent's body trembled violently.

He turned his head stiffly, a glimmer of life returning to his eyes.

Then, in a standard American theatrical tone, he began to recite:

"We are born to suffer; hardship is our emblem..."

The commandos instinctively took a step back, not out of a lack of professionalism, but out of fear of the unknown.

It's a human's animal instinct; the body involuntarily wants to escape.

Finch snapped his fingers, and the agent's voice abruptly stopped, turning back into an empty shell.

"See that?" Finch said into the captain's earpiece, knowing Sterling was listening. "That's just the most basic application. My research needs a better lab, and... an undisturbed environment."

Inside the mobile command vehicle, Sterling looked at Finch on the screen, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

"Tell 'The Piper'," he told the team leader, "that the company is very interested in his offer. Execute the 'VIP' agreement and bring him back."

The sewage well cover was surprisingly heavy.

Lin Zheng used all his strength; the crowbar was his only tool, which he had taken from the wall of the boiler room.

Metal rubbing against metal produces a tooth-grinding sound.

"Quick, thermal imaging shows they're moving towards the boiler room. You have twenty seconds."

Adrenaline was draining the last bit of potential from his body.

The manhole cover was pried open a crack.

A strong, foul stench, a mixture of rotting matter and grease, hit him, almost suffocating him.

This smells like the city's sewers.

He had no choice.

He crawled inside, letting the cold, foul-smelling liquid submerge his calves.

Behind him, the boiler room door was suddenly kicked open, and several blinding beams of flashlight light swept in.

Finch was "escorted" out of the building by two team members.

He was not handcuffed.

A black luxury car with a thick layer of sound-absorbing material inside was already waiting at the door.

The car door opened for him.

He sat down gracefully and straightened his collar.

"What a shame," he said softly, glancing back at his interrupted "concert," "but I think you'll provide me with a better stage, won't you?"

The car door closed, and it silently slipped into the night.

Lin Zheng trekked through the city's underground arteries.

It was absolutely dark all around, with only the occasional passing vehicle overhead causing a slight vibration.

The sewage was knee-deep, making every step extremely difficult.

A mouse crawled past his feet, squeaking fearlessly as if greeting him.

This is another side of Emerald Dream City, a forgotten, dark corner, a dirty territory excreted by gleaming skyscrapers and technology parks.

A hissing sound came from the headset, the signal was intermittent, and the sound seemed to come from near and far.

"Instructions complete."

The voice in the headset suddenly came on, as cold as ever.

"From now on, you have to rely on yourself. Don't die too quickly; you're still useful to us."

"Wait a minute, who are you?"

"The Dream Breaker".

A flash of electrical current, and the communication was completely cut off.

Dead silence.

Haha, dream breaker, are you going to shatter the American Dream?

Lin Zheng took a few steps and then stopped, overwhelmed by an unprecedented sense of loneliness and fear.

He became like a puppet with its strings pulled, standing in endless darkness, not knowing where to go.

Arthur, Evelyn, and Shadow were all confronted and began their escape.

Although they had prepared for the worst, the sheer force of such a national-level power still left them feeling suffocated and with nowhere to escape.

As for the Dream Breaker mentioned by the mysterious person, that's all the help he can offer; he still has to walk the rest of the road alone.

He groped around in the dark for who knows how long before finally finding a rusty ladder.

He climbed up and pushed open a heavy manhole cover.

Fresh but cold air rushed into my lungs.

He found himself in a secluded back alley, not far from a 24-hour convenience store.

He needs information; he needs to know what's happening outside.

He staggered to the convenience store window, where a television was playing the news.

Suddenly, all channels, all screens, including the giant GG sign across the street and the cell phones in the hands of passersby, were forcibly replaced by the same signal.

The image transformed into an unfamiliar face with a name written on it—

Theodore Sterling.

He was wearing a well-tailored suit, with the city emblem of Emerald Dream City in the background.

His expression was sorrowful yet resolute.

"Tonight, our city has suffered a despicable terrorist attack."

Sterling's voice carried through every loudspeaker to every corner of the city.

"In Emerald Dream City, Alistair Finch, an outstanding professor at Miskatonic University, was wrongly targeted by his trusted student Lin Zheng, who used his expertise and technological means to launch an indiscriminate attack against civilians and law enforcement personnel, resulting in heavy casualties."

"According to our latest intelligence, Professor Finch has been killed by his student, Lin Zheng."

"Student Lin Zheng is still at large."

Lin Zheng's ID photo appeared on the screen, with his personal information scrolling beside it.

"This person is extremely dangerous. He possesses Professor Finch's core technology and could launch another attack at any time."

Sterling's gaze pierced through the television signal and landed on Lin Zheng, who was facing him.

"In response to this unprecedented threat, the Department of Homeland Security has authorized the activation of the highest level of emergency response plan—the Ouroboros Protocol."

On the screen, Lin Zheng's photo was covered by a dark blue circular symbol of a snake swallowing its own tail.

"Target of the agreement: Lin Zheng."

"Authorize all action units... to apprehend on the spot or eliminate them on the spot."

The moment the words fell, the city's alarms blared from afar, growing louder as they approached, merging into a piercing shriek.

Lin Zheng looked at his pale, dirty face reflected in the shop window, and the ouroboros symbol that was swallowing him up in the reflection.

He became the enemy of the world.