Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

At dawn, on the top floor of the Wei Group headquarters building in downtown Beijing.

The enormous floor-to-ceiling windows act like a transparent wall of sighs, shutting out the city's dazzling lights.

It was late at night the day after the Genting Palace incident. The office was dark, with only the neon lights outside casting long, cold shadows on the floor.

Wei Donghai stood by the window, the city unfolding beneath his feet.

As the head of the Wei Group, he was used to looking down on everyone and controlling everything.

But just twelve hours earlier, in the "Heavenly Palace on the Clouds" that should have been a showcase of the Wei family's glory, his son, Wei Zixuan, had his heart crushed in front of hundreds of people by a dying "ant".

Are you grieving?

Perhaps for a fleeting moment.

But at this moment, what surged in Wei Donghai's deep-set eyes was not so much the pain of losing his son, but rather the extreme rage after his authority was trampled upon, and the ruthless calculation instinctive of a apex predator.

The office door was gently pushed open, and Zhang Jingyi walked in.

"Chairman," Zhang Jingyi said respectfully, "the final draft of the report from the Municipal Public Security Bureau has been released. It classifies the crime as 'an extremely vicious violent crime caused by mental illness.'"

"They are very smart," Wei Donghai said slowly. "Accept this assessment."

"Yes." Zhang Jingyi secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "Then, regarding Young Master Wei's posthumous reputation..."

"Zixuan is a victim." Wei Donghai turned around, half his face hidden in shadow, the other half illuminated by the red light from the window, making him look like a vengeful ghost. "He is an innocent victim who was unfortunately attacked by a madman. In the official announcement, words like 'revenge' and 'grudge' are strictly forbidden. I want him to die cleanly and in a way that evokes pity."

"But that's not enough," Wei Donghai continued. "Since we're going to die, we should die with value. In the name of the group, immediately donate 20 million to the municipal treasury to establish the 'Chenxi City Public Safety and Emergency Fund.' In addition, we announce that we will fully fund the construction of a key mental illness research and treatment center."

Zhang Jingyi was taken aback, then quickly realized: "You mean, you want to steer public opinion towards discussions about public safety and the management of mentally ill patients?"

"The public's memory lasts only seven seconds. Give them a new topic, show them the Wei family's magnanimity and sense of social responsibility, and they will soon forget about that rape case."

Zhang Jingyi nodded: "Understood. Then... what about Zhao Qiang himself? He's still in the detention center. Although he recanted his testimony, as long as we..."

"He can't die now," Wei Donghai interrupted him. "Dying now would be too conspicuous, it would be like telling everyone we're silencing him. Send someone to tell him that as long as he keeps his mouth shut inside, sticks to his original testimony, and admits that he recanted his confession and slandered Zixuan out of greed and fear, I will give him more money than he can spend in his lifetime."

At this point, Wei Donghai paused, a cruel glint flashing in his eyes: "Wait until things calm down, six months, or a year. In a place like prison, a sudden heart attack is very common. By then, make sure you handle things cleanly."

Zhang Jingyi lowered his head deeply: "Yes, I will arrange it properly."

"And those two people who helped us suppress the case back then," Wei Donghai continued. "This matter has blown up so big, someone has to take the blame. Tell them to take responsibility for their 'work errors' and cover up all the irregularities. In return, their resettlement allowance will be doubled, and I will arrange good positions for them after they get out. The Wei family will not mistreat its obedient friends."

This was a perfect exchange of benefits.

Loyalty is bought with money, and scapegoats are used to ensure the smooth establishment of the group.

On Wei Donghai's chessboard, no piece is insurmountable.

All the "mines" were dismantled one by one, and all the loopholes were filled with money and power.

However, Wei Donghai did not let Zhang Jingyi leave.

He was silent for a moment, then stood up again, walked to the safe next to his desk, took out a black folder without any markings, and threw it on the table.

"Besides these formalities, there is something even more important."

Wei Donghai's voice became somewhat subdued, "About that Chen Guohua."

"Chen Guohua?" Zhang Jingyi asked, puzzled. "Wasn't he already dead? His body was dissected at the forensic center."

"Do you really believe he did it with some kind of 'adrenaline storm'?" Wei Donghai stared at Zhang Jingyi, his eyes burning with a chilling intensity. "I've seen the surveillance footage, even the parts that were cut. An old man with end-stage renal disease, who needed help to walk, braved the assault team's firepower, smashed through riot shields, and crushed his own heart with his bare hands."

Wei Donghai placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, adopting a predator's posture.

"This is not something a madman could do, nor is it something a human being could do. The so-called medical explanation is nothing but a fig leaf for those people to cover up their true intentions."

"Zhang Jingyi, use all the group's channels, and those 'friends' the group sponsors in the underground labs." Wei Donghai's command was like a devil's whisper, "I want you to find out everything Chen Guohua has done over the past year. Has he taken any special drugs?"

"Also, try to get a real sample of Chen Guohua's body from the forensic center. I need the raw, unedited data."

Zhang Jingyi's heart skipped a beat when he saw the boss's eyes, which gleamed with an eerie light in the darkness.

He realized that his boss wasn't just angry, but also...desireful.

That was an instinctive greed for an unknown power.

"Boss, you suspect...?"

"There are things in this world that we don't know," Wei Donghai said softly, gazing out the window at the neon-lit city. "If even a dying old cripple can possess this kind of power, then... what if this power were in my hands?"

"Investigate. Dig three feet into the ground and find out everything."

------

Three days after the Chen Guohua incident ended.

Outside the window of Room 101, the morning in Morning Light City was still bustling.

The shouts of breakfast vendors, the honking of cars, and the sound of neighbors closing their doors as they leave all seeped into Room 101 through the cracks in the old windows.

These sounds, full of everyday life, seem so jarring and ironic compared to the bloody massacre at the Heavenly Palace a few days ago.

The world did not seem to stop turning because of the deaths of a few people, even though the one who died was the famous eldest son of the Wei family.

Wen Yan leaned against the headboard, his face still pale, but his eyes were clearer than ever before.

His fingers slid slowly across the phone screen, the cold light of the screen reflecting in his unfathomable eyes.

At this time, the headlines of major news apps were dominated by the same official announcement in blue and white: "Situation Report on the Major Heinous Murder Case at 'Cloud Top Palace'".

"...The suspect, Chen (male, 50 years old), suffered from severe depression and mental breakdown due to a major family tragedy and a long-term serious illness. A joint assessment by forensic and psychiatric experts determined that at the time of the incident, Chen was in an extremely rare state of 'hysterical power outburst.' This state caused an abnormal surge in his hormone levels, resulting in irrational violent behavior..."

So that's how it's explained.

He continued to slide down.

Regarding the deceased Wei Zixuan, the report made no mention of the heinous rape-murder case, nor did it mention the inside story of Zhao Qiang taking the blame.

"...The victim, Wei, was tragically attacked and killed during the evacuation of the crowd. We deeply regret his unfortunate fate..."

As for the Zhao Qiang case that triggered all of this, the report only used a small, inconspicuous line at the end: "...Regarding the law enforcement flaws in the relevant preliminary cases that have been circulating online, the Municipal Bureau has initiated an internal verification procedure and will uphold an attitude of zero tolerance to hold the relevant responsible persons accountable."

Wen Yan turned off his phone and casually tossed it onto the blanket.

Everything was as expected, yet it was even more "perfect" than expected.

The official explanation is like a carefully tailored fig leaf, covering up the Wei family's maggot-infested private morality, explaining Chen Guohua's power that defies common sense, and maintaining the city's superficial order and tranquility.

"A hysterical outburst of power..."

Wen Yan repeated the tongue-twisting medical term in a low voice, "It's such a versatile box; you can put anything into it."

This seemingly impeccable "scientific conclusion" is the truth to the general public, but for Wen Yan, it is the most valuable intelligence.

It reveals a key message: the authorities—at least the current level of law enforcement—are doing everything they can to anchor “paranormal phenomena” within the existing medical and scientific understanding.

No rumors about "superpowers" or "awakening" have been released at the official level.

They would rather fabricate a medical miracle than acknowledge, or be completely unaware of, the existence of the unknown.

What does this mean?

Wen Yan closed his eyes and his brain worked at lightning speed.

This does not mean that there are no special institutions in this world specifically targeting extraordinary powers.

On the contrary, this reaction mechanism of "desperately explaining" and "rapidly maintaining stability" precisely illustrates that the ruling class of this world has an instinctive rejection and suppression of "abnormalities".

As long as the phenomena caused by the "seed of the soul" can be barely categorized into "the explosion of human potential," "rare diseases," or "extreme mental cases," then it is safe.

"The surface world remains materialistic, but how deep it is beneath the surface is still unknown."

Wen Yan made his own judgment.

His strategy of "absolute concealment" was correct.

Chen Guohua's final "life blossoming" extended Wen Yan's life expectancy from less than six months to "at least a year and a half".

In the void deep within his soul, beside the two crimson marks representing [Life Burning] and [Life Blooming], a second brand-new seed of soul had naturally condensed, radiating a soft and pure glow, awaiting its "suitable one".

He needs to find his next target.

Wen Yan picked up his phone again and began to search more meticulously for information forgotten or covered up by the mainstream in the dark corners of the internet.

He needs to find those "suitable individuals" who have been cornered by the world but whose hearts burn with a sufficiently intense flame.

Soon, he opened a local forum and found a post that had long since sunk to the bottom in an inconspicuous section.

The title is simple, yet it conveys a sense of helpless sadness: "Susu has been missing for 25 days, and Grandma is dying."