He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

Chapter 124 I Guarantee

Two days have passed since the newborn Worldwing caused a great disturbance in the outskirts of the city. Now, all the major factions in Hallownest are bewildered by this upheaval, their minds in a complete mess.

Who understands? Everyone is still working themselves to the bone in scientific research, and suddenly a singularity rises from some obscure corner, with all the supporting structures already completed. If you really want to find an analogy, it's like a Nature paper suddenly popping up in a high school lab—the theory in it has even been put into practical production.

At times like these, even a scholar would question life for a while. However, the reason why some people can achieve results might be that they can still ignite their passion at such junctures, just like the old elf who has been clearly overly passionate these past few days.

On the night the miracle occurred after the singularity rose, Monet immediately set off from the Central District upon receiving the news. After undergoing more than a dozen medical examinations and review procedures, he floated back to the mortal world from Depth 2 overnight and arrived directly at the Foundation's headquarters in Uptown.

Then, at lightning speed, they went to have tea with the committee members.

Uptown, Foundation Headquarters, Central Dogmatic District.

The Supreme Continuing Parliament.

Silver is the color of "dogma," the base color of "dome," and naturally symbolizes sublimity and stability. Most of the foundation's political facilities are decorated in silver, with towering ceilings painted in silver. This design concept is also present in the Supreme Council.

Upon arriving at headquarters, Monet was greeted by a man in black, a common sight in movies and TV shows. After being led into the silver hall by this silent, cold, and mechanical-like man, the old elf squinted, feeling a little dizzy from the reflection on the ceiling, and clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

"Such a big fuss?"

Inside the spacious council chamber, many figures had already taken their seats before Monet entered—about twenty or so. And in the six seats at the very top, with their backs to the crowd, four people were already seated.

"You came at just the right time—" A tall, thin middle-aged man in the seat closest to Monet sighed upon hearing this, and said helplessly, "The once-every-five-years ideological judgment is being held fourteen months in advance. Too many things have happened recently, and the changes in the Macro-Intelligence Group have exceeded the threshold. We need to remeasure the road."

"I see. I thought it was because I had done too many bad things that you were going to hold a special meeting to judge me."

Monet said leisurely, casually finding an empty seat to sit down. The middle-aged man glanced at him, and although he wanted to say something to remind him, he quickly swallowed his words.

It's probably best not to bring up this topic.

—The old elf's identity is too special. Even as a member of the committee, no one can hold him accountable for any of his actions within the system, as long as the bottom line is not crossed.

Unless he actually blows up the Hume Tree, or runs away with the singularity technology in a bucket.

"This is boring—"

Monet, legs crossed, yawned. "Is there anywhere to smoke?"

"Quiet down, it's about to start." The councilor pointed to the screen that was slowly unfolding in front of him.

Apart from the "final resolution," the committee members are rarely all present. When the scheduled time arrives, this "ideological judgment" that starts ahead of time begins.

A cold, synthesized electronic voice echoed around: "Homage to the [Doctrine] and the [Sustainability Programme], swear an oath to the [Supreme Law] —"

The next instant, a light screen rose up from the front of the silver hall, and densely packed characters, arranged in a superimposed manner, occupied every corner of everyone's field of vision—black text smaller than ants was constantly being refreshed on it, and the data flow passing through every second was so large that it was beyond comprehension.

After a long time, the bloated flood of data gradually subsided, and the "ruling result" compiled by the think tank was displayed before everyone:

[Eternal Faction: 47.14% → 39.79%]

[The Humanistic Integration Faction: 24.36% → 24.52%]

[Hakoniwa faction: 15.74% → 14.41%]

Christmas party: 7.13% → 11.11%

[Repair faction: 4.68% → 9.91%]

[Completionists————]

"A drop of nearly eight percentage points—" A nearby senator clicked his tongue in amazement. "I originally thought that in ten years at most, the Eternalists would be able to seize the final interpretation of the ideology, but I didn't expect there to still be suspense—"

"Are you a member of the Eternalists?" Monet glanced at him thoughtfully.

—The Eternalists, also known as Frontierism or Expansionism, are the simplest and easiest to understand faction: based on the final burning of the "hearth," the hive already has the foundation for eternity. It only needs to settle in the ruins and continuously build the dome higher and expand outward. One day, when the hive covers the world and touches the sky, the hearth will burn like the sun, and the survival of mankind will become an unchanging answer.

The congressman paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile: "To be precise, I don't know."

There is no real partisan distinction within the committee because "people's hearts" are complex and difficult to measure; they usually only tilt in a certain direction rather than resolutely swaying towards one another.

The legislators who appear here are definitely not naive extremists. Even if their beliefs may lean towards a certain extreme, they are not crazy and difficult to communicate with. Everyone can understand the thoughts of others.

The legislators were already used to the foundation's arrogant attitude of "quantifying" everything. They simply turned their own "ideals" or "beliefs" into a heavier weight in the large group of ideas and placed them on the scales.

"Someone will help us compile the statistics of human will and display it on a big screen for everyone to see."

The middle-aged congressman chuckled, pointing to one of the six seats higher up. "The hardest thing for people is to understand their own hearts, whether it's interests, emotions, or anything else—so many things can influence our judgment. Fortunately, with [them] here, we don't need to worry that personal factors will affect the interests of all mankind."

"If you're not even willing to make your own judgments, you'll regress into a giant baby."

Unlike the councilor's slightly arrogant attitude, Monet's tone was somewhat sarcastic: "After all this time, you still haven't been willing to kick that thing out of this hall—tsk, you've become even more dependent on it, how disappointing."

He joked, "Sooner or later, that thing will destroy us."

"————" The senator chuckled dryly and looked away from the gaze.

—The committee always leaves an impression of mystery, obscurity, aloofness, and perpetual distance—as the highest decision-making body of Hallownest, they sit high on the throne, casting an endless shadow over the nest along with the dome.

Thirty-three members of parliament and six decision-makers—for a massive organization governing a population of tens of millions, this number of decision-makers is not considered excessively bloated.

Indeed, this is the case: the Foundation, as the nominal and de facto ruler of Hallownest, has an unexpected superstructure composition—"lightness." Although it cannot reach the theoretical threshold of "efficiency" due to the complexity of human nature, as a mysterious hegemony, they have a way to compensate for the inferiority of "human nature" in the political subject.

That is to stuff a "non-human" person into the highest decision-making seat.

An entity that, for humans, will never make a mistake in its underlying logic.

The most basic desire of life is the "desire to survive," and desire is the foundation of mystery: thus, the deity created by the Foundation for the Nest uses the measure of "existence" to judge everything fairly and decisively.

At the same time, it also suppressed certain ideologies that contradicted the "survival program".

"Boring and tedious —"

Monet's unreadable gaze, carrying an inscrutable mix of mockery and disdain, fell upon the six seats higher up—the fifth seat from the left, shrouded in darkness:

There was no physical medium, only an ethereal image—a girl with black eyes and black hair. She seemed to sense this gaze, turned her head slightly back, and cast a gaze as dark as a black hole at Monet. Her deep pupils were like inorganic dead objects, without any incomprehensible emotions or feelings, only an infinitely languid "maternal instinct" that encompassed, dissolved, and absorbed all things.

Her smile at Monet was so beautiful it defied logic, a beauty that defied any imagination.

"That's the most troublesome thing."

The old elf met her gaze without flinching, his tone somber. After saying this, he pushed open the door behind him, showing no inclination to continue the conversation.

He showed no restraint whatsoever in his arrogance and prejudice, leaving only the heavy sound of his footsteps echoing in the space.

The fifth seat of the highest decision-making body —

The artificial will named "The Great Crowd" is closest to omniscience, using the souls and minds of millions as a springboard and fulcrum to project existence onto the foundation of humanity in a grand way:

The core of think tanks and the hub of large-scale online communities—

The inorganic girl blinked, and the ethereal projection flickered a few times as if there was a bad signal, before slowly solidifying—deep within those dark pupils, a torrent of thoughts that should not belong to the human mind was accumulating, like a bottomless abyss severing vision, like an endless swamp made of honey, engulfing everything.

Black Mammon

On the second day after the official establishment of the Golden Dawn, Ankasha arrived at the Cardinal Heavy Industries headquarters in Upper City with Ai's authorization.

Of course, this wasn't his first time in this place. Ankasha was a worldly man. Although he had lived in the suburbs for decades, he could hardly keep up with the new facilities. However, after he explained his purpose to the young lady at the office and she reported it, he received instructions to be received with the "highest standards" within five minutes.

After waiting in the ultra-high-class lounge for no more than five minutes, a middle-aged man rushed in from the door.

"Mr. Ankasha, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting—"

He bowed deeply to the halfling supervisor who was a head shorter than him.

"Some time ago, there may have been some minor misunderstandings between us and your company that could easily have caused some unpleasantness. If possible, please give us some time to convene a board meeting."

Looking at the business card handed to him, Ankasha finally realized in a daze that the seemingly timid middle-aged man in front of her was the CEO of Cardinal Heavy Industries, a super executive who rarely appeared in public and was usually difficult to even meet.

"Then—shall we talk first?" He tilted his head, his expression strange.

Not long after, Ankasha walked out of the main entrance of the building's office building, looking dazed, still trying to recall the scene from an hour ago.

Those once high-and-mighty corporate people, faced with his unremarkable think tank panel, displayed an almost obsequious attitude towards him, a lowly employee with neither qualifications nor experience.

He had never received such "exquisite" hospitality in this place before, of course, only after learning that he came from the outskirts and was there in the name of "that person".

—Incredibly smooth.

Ankasha felt a strong sense of unreality—the Cardinal Heavy Industries' eagerness in the face of his long list of demands made made it seem as if they wanted to tear those unequal treaties to their feet and sign them on the spot.

—Everything is settled. Communicating with those greedy corporate people has never been so simple.

He took a deep breath.

"The Wings of the World, huh?" Ankasha shook her head, a smile creeping onto her lips.

"It feels so good to have someone backing you up."

down town.

The Winged Convenience Store.

"Aiyi, I have something funny to tell you." Dodo popped his head out from behind the counter and looked at the fox who was staring blankly at the microwave.

"Hmm—" Ai hummed absentmindedly.

"A couple of days ago, I had a really strange dream—" Dudu explained enthusiastically, "In the dream, I saw you being pointed at with a gun by a pretty little girl. She looked fierce, it was terrifying."

"Uh-huh?!"

The fox shuddered, suddenly realizing something was wrong. Then the microwave beeped, and he quickly took out the heated cup noodles, blowing on them as he nervously replied, "And then?"

"And then—?" Dodo tilted its head, its wings flying high, looking very proud. "I quickly protected you. At the time, I didn't know I was dreaming, and my mind was so muddled that I couldn't remember calling the police—so I shielded you behind me so that the bad woman wouldn't see you—and then—I can't remember what happened after that."

She shook her head, a little annoyed: "What a pity."

"I see—" Ai responded softly, inexplicably falling into deep thought.

"Dodo, don't you want to know what I did while I was gone?" — Ai wanted to ask this, but when the words lingered on her lips, she couldn't bring herself to say them.

Looking at Dudu's perfectly normal smiling face, he felt bewildered.

Although I came back to see her as soon as this matter was resolved, I feel even more guilty now, as if I have done something terrible.

—Facing Miya, he promised her a future and offered her support;

Facing Inspector Wei, he invited her to witness and bless her path;

So, what about Dodo? ————

Ai Yi was lost in thought.

Dodo, the silly bird, willingly allowed herself to be deceived, and seemingly resigned herself to burying her head under her feathers, embracing and compromising with everything about Ai, even though she was imprisoned like a real bird, trapped on the other side of the chasm of cognition, imprisoned in the cage of love.

Even if she knew nothing, as long as Ai didn't want to talk, she was willing to stay behind the secret and watch that familiar figure drift further and further away from her.

"idiot."

He chuckled and gently placed the cup of noodles on the table beside him. He then silently walked to the front desk and gazed into the eyes before him, which held all his deep love and hope. He gently cupped the silly bird's face in his hands.

"I promise."

Ai silently recited in her heart, the azure blue as bright and clear as a lighthouse, and as flickering and sublimating as a candle flame.

His gaze descended from the heights of the dome, landing on the distant outskirts—on the very edge of the nest, on a patch of ruined land, where new greenery was gradually dispelling the scorched earth, reaching the very end of its spread.

—A miracle is happening on earth.

"And the messenger who promised us all this: the shadow of light—the ruthless king—the lord of the distant countryside—the golden dawn, the one who wears the white crown and basks in the light—"

—Everyone praises His radiance and remembers His kindness.

Ai pondered, silently withdrawing her gaze from above and trying to look further away, deeper into the distance—most of the nest was still a deathly, deep black.

Unfortunately, the shadow did not go away.

He sighed softly.

Discrimination and prejudice intertwine, and indifference and malice dance together.

—Death and pain, wails and cries—

"All it takes to create hell is a little bit of despair—"

The next moment, Ai suddenly chuckled.

—All things still cannot coexist harmoniously; bad things continue to happen; decay has not been completely eradicated; and beauty still needs to be slowly nurtured.

—And the creation of the heavenly kingdom requires even more love and hope.

"This world—it should be like an ornament placed on my arms, slowly tilting to the angle I'm satisfied with, until it solidifies into an eternal utopia."

He told himself to be extremely serious, and to cross the river again.

I promise to always be by your side, as long as you still want to.

He gently pressed his forehead against the silly bird's.

"Believe me."

—The sun will rise again.

[

Everything will have a bright future.

Volume I, Gray, Completed