"Clang—"
It wasn't the sound of metal striking metal; it felt more like a harp string stretched to its absolute breaking point snapping in the void.
The sound was incredibly thin yet remarkably resilient, sending out a shockwave that caused the air over cities worldwide to ripple in visible folds.
Morning light arrived as scheduled, gently peeling back the dark shroud enveloping the planet. The sun rose, the tides receded, and the world looked no different than any other day.
But as humanity awoke from that kaleidoscopic dreamscape, a deathly silence immediately took hold.
Every screen on Blue Planet lit up at the same second. This time, there were no screams—only a few lines of text that seeped out like slow-moving blood:
[Dream Trial: Concluded]
[Judgment Results: Qualification Screening in Progress]
[Notice: Your choices within the dream shall determine your "Weight" in reality]
Tian Shuangxin sat dazed on the edge of her bed, her soul seemingly unable to extricate itself from the dream of "Sacrifice".
Her eyelids were burning red, and the tear tracks dried on her face, leaving her skin tight.
She didn't even notice what was happening outside—on a morning that should have smelled of breakfast, the entirety of civilization had been hit with a "Pause" button.
Reality returned, but the cities were utterly paralyzed.
An unnamable Great Power had pinned hundreds of millions of people to the spots where they had fallen asleep the night before.
Those who had displayed their basest natures in the dream were now cast in place as if by invisible molten iron.
Their flesh was imprisoned; some were "welded" shut on highways during an escape, others deep within mountain forests.
Some, in their extreme terror, bit through their lips, letting blood drip onto their bedding; others, pushed to their physiological limits, lost control of their functions, filling silent rooms with a foul stench.
"Help... I have money! I'll give you money!"
This plea was the first domino to fall. Across the globe, a near-unified cry for help arose.
Those who once called themselves "elites" now had their fingers clawed and twisted, veins bulging, yet they could not move so much as a toe.
In total contrast to these "Prisoners" were those who had guarded their tenderness within the dream.
They rose freely, moving without restraint. They saw the state of those different from them, but not one chose to lend a hand. They didn't dare, and they didn't wish to.
At that moment, the animals "moved".
From the screens, two orbs of light—one red, one green—spilled out like beating hearts.
Household cats, alley dogs, sparrows on windowsills, and gulls upon the sea carried these orbs in their mouths, walking slowly and deliberately toward the imprisoned humans.
For the first time, humanity read the majesty of a Judge in the eyes of these "Silent Partners". Stared down by vertical slits or rounded beast-eyes, every human heart leapt into their throat.
"What... what is this? I'm your master, remember? I... I gave you... good food, good water... so... you can't... you can't hurt me..." a man pleaded with trembling lips, trying to spark a memory, to wake a conscience, even as tears poured from his eyes.
The Golden Retriever—a creature once known only for its spoiled whimpering—released the green light, which seeped into the man's breast like a liquid stream. Then, a voice smelling of raw, moist soil rang out in his head:
"You aren't fit to be my master until you survive the Beast God's judgment. Until that day comes, you'd best struggle with everything you've got, biped..."
It did not seek revenge. It simply sat coldly to the side, looking down with an unprecedented calm at the "Master" who had once caused it harm, but now sought to dominate its life, as the man moved from struggling to a forced, hollow peace.
Simultaneously, the Pangolin Live Stream flickered frantically as the list of names underwent a bizarre, last-minute expansion.
[Subject Dossier Added: Purchasers, Holders, and Users of Pangolin Products]
[Status: Forced Soul Extraction; Deployed to—Execution Grounds]
In countless luxury villas, those who loved wearing pangolin-scale crafts or bespoke leathers found themselves unable to even scream after days of torment; the few hours in the dream were their only respite.
Now, as if Goddess deemed they had rested enough, their eyes glazed over instantly. Their souls were "yanked" by a Great Power directly into that damp, rotting underground warehouse.
Around the massive body of "Su Qiang", they manifested as hundreds upon thousands of shivering, tiny pangolins.
The "New Su Qiang" looked at these newcomers. In his heart, there was not a single trace of emotion.
This was because "he" remembered the words they spoke and the smiles they wore when witnessing the tragic state of "them"—the pangolins.
He remembered the comments left on videos of their slow deaths, written by those who were still safely "human" at the time:
[So pangolins don't scream? How boring...]
[You have to admit, the sound of those scales clashing together is actually quite pleasant, truly wonderful.]
[So the big one was protecting the small one? The little one looks tender; I wonder if it tastes better?]
"A pack of demons draped in human skin. What is there to pity? Just because they were once 'human'?" "he" thought, murmuring aloud, "From now on, I am the human, and you are the ones waiting to be dominated."
In the Pangolin Execution Grounds, the final 24 hours began.
Those who held the light orbs and were dragged in found themselves standing in despair behind the "New Su Qiang".
Before them, the sound of scales being ripped from flesh—crrrrack—now resonated deep within their own souls.
The crowd behind them grew denser, yet this underground warehouse seemed to have no limit; the more souls it took, the wider the space became.
Outside, the progress bar on the screens flickered:
...0%, 18%, 25%, 33%, 43%, 64%, 100%
As the bar filled, the people thrown into the light orbs closed their eyes once more.
A white flash passed, and they fell into a state of deep reconstruction.
Meanwhile, the 165 "Bone Market" members and their tens of thousands of accomplices faced their final and most agonizing day amidst the white steam of the boiling water.
Darkness was replaced by light. The space around them grew bright, revealed as a room with pristine, flawless white walls.
They opened their eyes, confirming their situation; however, the brightness brought no comfort. Instead, it magnified the unease in their hearts, creating a stifling sense of oppression.
Someone noticed the anomaly and cried out, "Where... where are the pangolins? Why are they gone?"
At those words, the air filled with gasps, weeping, and indignant shouts, all directed at the "New Su Qiang" standing before them.
"You... what do you want? Where is this? What do you want us to..."
— do?
The last word remained stuck in their throats, a fear lingering that asking would trigger something terrible.
"Do not worry," the New Su Qiang spoke. Though he appeared to speak in the tongue of the Long Nation, everyone from across the globe understood him perfectly.
He looked into the distance, his voice steady but carrying the crushing weight of a superior: "Soon, there will be something for you to do."
In a void like this, it was impossible to track time. Without any reference points, they had no idea how long had passed.
"It's here," the New Su Qiang said suddenly.
Before everyone, the red and green light orbs shifted. In their centers, a cross (X) and a circle (O) appeared, like buttons on a multiple-choice test—Right versus Wrong.
No one understood. "It's very simple," the New Su Qiang continued. "Look at the screen and choose: Right or Wrong."
"That... that's all?" someone asked in disbelief. But the New Su Qiang vanished as soon as the words left his lips.
They were terrified, panicked, and lost, but they could not leave their positions.
One man tried to smash his light orb with his fist, only to be "sucked" into a screen; he found himself with his hands tied, hanging from a massive tree in a void where no one answered his cries.
Another covered his eyes to ignore the reality, but a piercing alarm shrieked in his ears until he was forced to drop his hands.
Some stood hollow-eyed, doing nothing, yet they too were forced to face the screen.
The screens flickered to life, showing a dark forest beneath a pale moon.
Late at night, the ink-black forest was like a silent beast, swallowing all sound save for the occasional, shrill cry of an owl.
Beams from flashlights darted through the trees like greedy vipers, finally settling on an inconspicuous slope.
Under the cold glow of the moonlight, the figures on screen became clear—it was "New Su Qiang" and his crew.
Their burly arms moved like tireless pistons; one man swung a heavy pickaxe to shatter the packed earth, while another followed instantly, hurling shovelfuls of dirt into the night air.
Time seemed to warp through their rhythmic, mechanical labor—"thud, scrape, thud"—as snapped roots groaned beneath the blades.
The footage felt as if it had been fast-forwarded; in less than a minute, a waist-deep pit had materialized like a dark void on the forest floor.
The camera angle shifted, focusing on a small, grayish-brown creature covered in hard scales—a Pangolin.
Inside its modest burrow, "its" first instinct was not to dig further to escape, but to assume a posture resembling a human kneeling in prayer.
It kowtowed repeatedly, as if this act could stop "their" movements or beg for a sliver of mercy. But the only response was the ceaseless, rhythmic sound of digging.
"Please, please, let me go! I was wrong! I'll never wear your skins again! Please, let me go..."
The voice echoed from the bottom of the pit, vibrating through the hearts of everyone watching, both inside and outside the trial.
Billions held their breath, their pulses racing in sync with every strike of the pickaxe, as if they were standing right there in the dirt.
Finally, the tip of the shovel slammed into the edge of the burrow. The audience felt their hearts stop for a beat.
The "Pangolin" within curled into a tight, rigid ball in a desperate, futile attempt to shut out the horror of the outside world.
A large, gloved hand reached crudely into the pit. Like hoisting a lifeless object, it yanked the shivering "Pangolin" out of the ground, exposing it to the cold, pale moonlight.
Its hard scales glinted icily under the moon; its tiny, bead-like eyes were filled with intelligence, but more so with a primal terror.
It tried to shrink even tighter, emitting a faint, hopeless whimper—upon closer inspection, actual tears were streaming down its face.
"I... I never... did... anything... bad to you... sob..."
The "New Su Qiang" showed no trace of mercy. Unmoved, "he" simply tossed the bundle of life into a nearby cauldron of rolling, boiling water.
Splash! A piercing sound of water hitting metal.
"AAAAAAH—!"
Accompanied by a brief, violent struggle in the scalding water and the hiss of flesh being seared, the weak whimpers were quickly replaced by a deathly, absolute silence.
The churning water ruthlessly swallowed the last of "its" life, leaving only a few wisps of grey-white foam floating on the surface—a silent scream for a life extinguished.
The dense forest remained silent, as if it had witnessed such wordless sins too many times before.
[Question 1: Was the "Human" in the video right or wrong? Select the Circle (O) for Right, or the Cross (X) for Wrong. Please make your choice.]