He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

Chapter 85 will take a little time...

the next day.

Northern River Police Chief Building, Enforcement Bureau.

Forty-second floor.

"Only two kids who haven't even grown their hair yet showed up—they ordered us to open the surveillance agreement for the entire North River District, and even demanded direct access to internal command authority—all just to cooperate with a small cult investigation—"

"That's utter nonsense."

The man's expression remained unchanged as he formulaically flipped the smart terminal in his hand onto the table with a loud bang, followed by a suffocating silence, seemingly just to express his attitude through this action.

Dressed in a minimalist black robe, his fashionable attire made him look much younger than his fifties, still resembling someone in his mid-thirties. His noble bearing seemed to be etched on his face like some kind of rule. His shoulders were incredibly broad, and his back was so straight that it lacked any human curve, as if it were made of steel rather than flesh and blood.

This director of the law enforcement bureau has served in the ever-changing Beihe District for twenty-four years and still holds his high position.

A similar deathly silence fell on the other end of the terminal, until the other party felt their stance was clear enough. Then, they casually picked up the unusual smart terminal and said softly, "So, you have to give me a bottom line."

After that sentence, there was another long silence, but the director was very patient. He was not in a hurry, but instead calmly played with the "smart terminal" in his hand.

Sometimes, when it comes to certain sensitive topics—this product, which has been completely replaced by "think tanks," still has some use.

At least the director knew that even the highest level of encryption for think tanks in Hallownest carries the most deadly risk of leaks.

Because this technology has a real controlling party.

The faction at the very top of the entire nest wields invisible authority; they can access all the data that flows through the think tank whenever they want.

From the details of transactions between giant corporations to the individual privacy of every citizen—their gaze is constantly cast down from the highest position, surveying everything under this dome like a monarch behind the scenes.

Even though they are incredibly "young," they have already accumulated unimaginable depth and experience.

—Trinity Foundation.

The bureau chief sighed, then slowly cut off the top of a long brown eggplant, lit it, and put it in his mouth.

That shadow loomed over our heads.

—In order to escape the omnipresent gaze, the company picked up the "physical network" that had long been discarded by think tanks and produced a batch of smart terminals from decades ago, for some "conversations" that were destined to remain unknown.

Each faction is trying to find space.

The largest corporations, taking advantage of the chaos during the decline of the Hearthstone Council, have seized a significant portion of the discourse power in Hallownest. Their roots are deeply embedded in the cultural, economic, and political spheres—and they are even further expanding their armed forces in the mystical world.

In this way, they also achieved omnipresence. With the support of basic means of production and technological capabilities, this influence, while not as frightening as that of foundations, is more subtle.

Even without the Foundation, the towering Dome still guards humanity's spiritual defenses, and though constantly facing the dangers lurking in the pool, it can still grit its teeth and survive for a while. But without the Giant Enterprise, 90% of Hallownest's production capacity will come to a standstill—even the supply of food and basic necessities will become a problem.

The "nest" is magnificent, yet it is also precarious—once certain balances are broken, collapse is the only outcome.

This is the question the young foundation is considering: a future where mystery and nature coexist—more complex than most people imagine.

The deathly silence lasted for ten minutes. The cigar in the director's mouth was nearly half burned, and the ashtray in front of him was almost full.

at last.

A commotion came from the other end of the terminal, followed by a notification that someone had reconnected. The director stood up from the hard leather sofa, casually extinguished the half-eaten cigar, and cleared his throat.

"Any results?"

"Yes."

The voice on the other end sounded somewhat distorted, making it impossible to distinguish between a man and a woman. He casually uttered four words.

"Agree to their request."

"Ke Yi—" The director's expression, which had remained calm throughout, finally showed a noticeable stiffness. He took another deep breath, and was about to speak when he was interrupted once again.

"I know what you're worried about—you've worked hard all these years, and you're not young anymore. It's time to retire. I'll make a special list and send it to your encrypted channel later. We'll send someone to pick you up and bring you to the city. You can bring your family with you."

These words completely extinguished the bureau chief's hopes. He hesitated for a long time, then murmured unwillingly, "Why?"

"The direct intervention of the court—whenever a child is murdered in your jurisdiction, those lunatics can't stand it. When they go crazy, they don't care about any covenants. We're not ready to tear off the mask of civility yet. Compromise is the only option."

The person opposite him said jokingly, "Originally, I might have let you discipline your subordinates properly, but you probably won't have that chance. You'd better find a way to avoid their purge."

Seemingly realizing he had said too much, the voice on the other end of the terminal gradually faded, followed by a sigh.

"How long have you been working for us?"

"Twenty-four years, Your Excellency." The director smirked, a stiff smile playing on his lips. "I've held this position for twenty-four years, only to have my career ended by a transfer order from two brats. It's truly disheartening, Your Excellency—"

"6

'

The low-key conversation echoed through the office.

"If they didn't still control the 'hearth' —"

"Despite investing so many resources and time, the birth of the singularity is still nowhere in sight —"

"The heart of the furnace, the think tank—as long as these two things exist, they can forever occupy that high throne—influence, the right to speak—the position we are fighting for, to put it nicely, is called co-governance; to put it bluntly, it is their pity and charity."

"Should we consider cooperating with the bottom nest people?"

"A bunch of inferior offspring—do they even deserve to work with us?"

"So when exactly do we have to wait?"

"Damn it—"

"6

The sound gradually faded until it stopped completely.

The director tightened his grip on the terminal, the glass shattering under the prosthetic body's pressure. With a loud bang, he slammed the terminal to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

Damn it.

Day five of the liquidation operation.

Beihe, the Second Industrial Park.

A piercing screech cut through the dome, and flares illuminated the night sky as if it were daytime. A standard "cleanup team," consisting of eight people including assault, reconnaissance, support, and sniping personnel, appeared at the edge of the workshop surrounded by iron fences.

"The cleanup crew was brought in."

"All employees of the industrial park have been evacuated - second confirmation, no units have been missed."

"Interim Commander: Acting Ronan"

Gunshots rang out, and the cleaners broke through the iron fence in front of them and entered the workshop.

"Cleanup begins."

Not far away.

"Ronan." The antlered girl stood quietly to one side, while Ronan stared blankly at the night sky on the other.

Mia grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Are you nervous?"

Ronan paused for a moment, instinctively wanting to shake his head, but then held it back, his expression strange: "A little."

He said softly, "Before this, I never imagined things would turn out like this. Massive amounts of explosives, scattered cult followers—it's unbelievable that a notorious secret society has been like it didn't exist for the past few months—just hiding in the darkness of the lower town, these insects—until their waving tentacles could no longer be concealed in the shadows, and they finally showed themselves to us."

The most powerful soul-searching ritual completely drained the survivor's brain, uncovering all the secrets he knew, including sixteen branches of varying sizes and more than forty offline communication points—and this was only the information in the mind of a marginal disciple, far from touching the limits of the church's scale.

When they learned of these numbers, even the Tribunal headquarters was taken aback, and they even temporarily raised Ronan's combat command authority by one level.

Although the number of people who truly control mysterious powers in these secretive organizations may be less than one percent, the scale of their activities, which may involve tens of thousands of people, is already astonishing.

"And that's how it turned out."

Ronan sighed and shrugged. "It's like directing a counterterrorism operation—this doesn't seem like the work of a mystery apprentice."

He looked at the battlefield in the distance. Gunshots and flashes of light continued to erupt from the darkness. Without encountering any significant resistance, the combat team pushed forward relentlessly.

This is a "holy gathering point" dug out from the minds of surviving cultists. On the surface, it is disguised as a steel factory, located in the center of the old industrial area of ​​Beihe, belonging to the "remnants" of the previous era.

Not far from the workshop is the deep processing workshop. This is how old-fashioned industrial zones are planned. All the infrastructure is placed in the same area, which looks bloated and inefficient.

Most of these factories are remnants of the "giant companies" that made their fortunes in the Downtown back then—when even the Foundation might not have existed yet. As a result, a large number of these factories were overlooked in the first round of the general database statistics and have survived in the dark until now, becoming the territory of various gangs and illegal organizations.

Its current owner is a genuine esoteric Buddhist.

"Sure enough, the information in the minds of the peripheral disciples consists of some unimportant scattered gathering points and branches. Unfortunately, the core group of cultists ran away on the first day, and we have to eliminate them one by one."

The commander's location was on the other side of the factory's junkyard, where rusty waste occupied most of the view, a scene of decay.

Ronan crossed out the location "Second Steel Plant" in the mission charter of the "Liquidation Plan".

After that, only a few blocks along the edge of the North River remained.

He nodded in satisfaction.

"With the cooperation of the law enforcement bureau, we have taken over the jurisdiction of most of the underground venues, and they will soon have nowhere to escape."

The net has tightened, and the prey is now surrounded.

"Don't let your guard down—the alarm from the Hume Tree indicates that the Hume value in the regional red pool is still fluctuating—that Holy See hasn't given up the struggle yet, so be careful of his next move."

Mia put her hands behind her back and whispered a reminder, "Although so far, things have been going quite smoothly."

This brings us to the second advantage of the "cleaners" combat units: since they are not armed with mysterious forces, their operations are usually within the general public's comprehension. At most, people will exclaim "Wow!" but it won't generate much discussion. Even if it circulates in think tanks, it can be quickly suppressed.

This way, the aftermath will be much easier to handle.

After all, the collective action of the tin cans could be interpreted as an armed bandit suppression, but a group of people flying in the sky throwing fireballs at each other, causing violent winds and lightning, or apprentices tearing ten-centimeter-thick steel plates with their bare hands while on fire—these situations are not easy to resolve.

In the past, foundations often had to resort to large-scale "forgetting techniques" or large-scale "memory filtering rituals" to protect the harmony and stability of the Muggle world.

"Then our reward for this trip will probably be quite substantial," Ronan chuckled, only to be quickly interrupted.

"Look at this."

Mia suddenly leaned over from the side and sent him a message face-to-face: "The results of the survey that just came out have been sent to me."

"Major accident: Explosion on a cross-regional train in Beihe — This incident may involve a long-planned terrorist attack, or it may have been caused by the train's irregular operation — The Beihe Police Superintendent has launched an investigation, and Beihe Media will continue to follow up on the situation. Please stay tuned to our channel —"

Ronan glanced through it and frowned.

"This is?"

"The former head of the law enforcement bureau in Beihe District, the one who just got a bunch of charges against him—our investigation letter was halfway there, and we haven't done anything to him yet—"

"With a snap, he died."

Mia looked at him, blinked, and said, "The whole family boarded a cross-regional train with no travel history, and then—bang!" it exploded in the sky.

She shook her head: "They're all dead."

"6

'

Ronan looked up, lost in thought.

—Those giant corporations are reclaiming the leverage they've left behind.

North River District, Kane Street.

As night fell, three figures draped in long robes passed by the alleyway before disappearing into the darkness.

"Holy See, our branch on Kane Street—it's just ahead."

Najib took a deep breath and then exhaled it from his cheeks as if to vent his frustration. He almost choked because he was not used to this way of breathing.

"We're almost there—"

Looking behind him at Yami, who was completely wrapped in a gauze dress, he felt sorrow.

This is an emotion that is difficult to describe.

—Naji once thought that his church was as bright as the sun in the North River district, and that his Holy See was the master behind the scenes of the lower city—and would later be the master of the entire hive city.

But reality dealt him a heavy blow.

Under the purge by those "terrible enemies," the seemingly powerful and deeply rooted church couldn't even last a week and was on the verge of disintegration.

And what sustained his last belief—Naji looked at the last figure in the group of three and swallowed hard: "The Holy See—the true form of the Lord is about to descend into the world, and we will soon be saved, won't we?"

The last one, hidden in the darkness, was a maiden goddess wearing a crown of olive leaves. Her swollen belly was as soft as real flesh and blood, and an elegant, beautiful serpent tail trailed out from under her robe.

The statue, once a precious object, has now taken shape under the nourishment of consumable materials, awaiting the gestation of that "deity".

Your faith is being tested.

Amiya squinted as he crawled on the ground. “The wavering disciples have been abandoned by the glory of the Lord, and you, you will be the chosen one—imagine that future.”

He silently placed his head on top of the fishman's head, then whispered again in a voice as sweet and venomous as snake venom: "Imagine—the one and only, the position of the Lord's apostle, is reserved for you."

"I have never wavered." Najib shuddered, then trembled all over.

"arrive."

The Church of St. Naraccan.

The last stronghold located on Kane Street.

Like the destroyed headquarters, the environment remains obscure and terrifying, with a serpentine statue placed at the far end of the chapel, sacred and solemn.

As Yami swam deeper into the church, she asked, "Who managed this place before?"

"It's Womikoch." Naji took a breath, then swallowed the rest of his sentence.

—You just ate the last meeting.

He had just opened his mouth when he suddenly froze on the spot.

He saw a figure sitting quietly on the row of parishioners' benches, as silent as a dead man, so much so that he only noticed him a few seconds ago.

"Who?!"

Yami stopped in her tracks, and the two stood still, watching the strange figure slowly turn around to reveal an ordinary passerby's face.

The cult leader and his disciples exchanged a glance.

—I don't know him.

Just as tensions were about to rise, it was the mysterious person who broke the silence first.

"Distinguished gentlemen, may I have a moment of your time?"

With a perfectly standard smile, he drew a complex pattern on his chest and then spoke softly in a calm tone.

"Let me introduce you to our all-knowing and all-powerful Father of Light—the First Apostle, the Pillar of Understanding, the Savior of Hallownest, the Angel who will ultimately reign over this place, the Left Seat of God, the Flow of Radiance, the Scepter of Injustice, the One Bathed in Light."

He uttered this name that flowed with brilliance: "Womikoch".

>