The question hovered in mid-air, emitting a ghostly, cold luminescence. Not a single soul in that expanse dared to extend a hand toward the option that would dictate their fate.
These "shrewd operators", who once gambled in the seas of commerce and commanded the halls of power, were now as wretched as lambs awaiting the slaughter.
Faced with a question so blunt it bordered on barbaric, the air seemed to solidify into lead, growing so heavy it was suffocating.
Some were drenched in cold sweat, their teeth chattering so hard they rattled, fists clenched until their knuckles turned bone-white, frozen in place.
Others stared blankly into the void, tears instantly flooding their eyes as their lips trembled violently, unable to utter a single syllable, as if an invisible hand had clamped shut their throats.
More pathetic still were those whose knees buckled the moment they read the prompt, collapsing to the ground with a dull thud.
The hovering orbs of light descended with them, staying glued to their foreheads like shadows, their icy glow almost piercing the skin.
"How... How are we supposed to choose?"
The man who spoke clutched his head, his fingernails digging deep into his scalp until blood nearly welled.
His face reflected not just agony, but the ultimate terror of an unknown judgment; his voice was thick with sobs.
Everyone knew in their hearts that the executioners "performing" on the big screen were no longer purely "human".
They were like vengeful ghosts draped in human skin, enacting a cruel documentary titled "Mirror Vengeance".
—To repay blood with blood, to settle grudges with grief—this was a primal law of human society, even considered a natural principle.
But, after days of being "baptized" by these broadcasts, they understood one thing deeply: Thou shalt not abuse animals; thou must treat them with kindness.
This iron law was their only remaining anchor, yet it was also the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.
Was this video another trap? A probe to see if they would turn a blind eye to the slaughter of an "animal"?
"How to choose?" These words bit into every heart like the fangs of a viper.
What did the Red (X) symbolize?
What did the Green (O) portend?
Was it life or death?
Redemption or a deeper descent into the abyss?
Was this a deadlock?
Everyone was frantically analyzing the logic behind the two choices.
To those who reached out only to jerk their hands back, those two orbs were no longer opportunities—they were two bottomless coffins.
"The countdown... has started."
Someone moaned in despair.
Above the screen, a timer pieced together from Pangolin scales began to tick down relentlessly from "60" toward zero.
Every tick was accompanied by a heavy, muffled drumbeat, striking the defensive lines of their souls with surgical precision.
A group of people who had been competitive since childhood—always striving to be number one—were now looking at one another, no one willing to be the "bird that pokes its head out".
They exchanged panicked glances, waiting to see who would be the first to move. The air felt as though it had been pressurized inside a glass jar; even their breathing had an echo.
"What are you... What are you looking at me for?" a dark-skinned man barked at someone staring at him, though he himself kept looking left and right, wavering.
"Hah, you're allowed to look at me, but I can't look at you?" a man with coarse features but fair skin retorted sharply.
Among the crowd, a real estate tycoon known for his decisiveness was now as pale as paper.
He remembered how, in his youth, to secure land, he had ordered his men to fill in a wetland that had been home to countless birds and small creatures.
He looked tremblingly at the Green orb representing life, then jerked his eyes away as if the color would sear his soul.
Did Green mean "letting animals go"? Then what about Red...? He didn't dare think further.
Elsewhere, a glamorous starlet had long ago lost her poise.
How many animal furs had she worn for the sake of "fashion"?
How many cosmetics had she used that were paid for in the blood of animal testing?
She instinctively touched her faux-leather coat, her heart turning to ice.
Would Red be the final reckoning for her past sins?
And would Green truly bring forgiveness?
"This isn't a choice; it's an interrogation!" a raspy-voiced elder shouted.
He was the former chairman of a pharmaceutical company whose wealth was built on the blood and tears of countless lab animals.
"No matter which we pick, we can't escape!"
"No... perhaps, it is an allegiance pledge." A young man who had been silent until now spoke up.
He was a programmer who had struck it rich with a globally popular game—a game once accused by animal rights groups of being too bloody and encouraging violence toward real animals.
"An allegiance pledge?" The crowd looked at him, lost.
"Exactly," the young man's eyes were a vortex of complex emotion.
"It's a blood oath for the soul. They want us to make a clean break between our most fundamental interests—perhaps our very lives—and the creatures we once trampled upon. This isn't a simple multiple-choice question; it's an order to admit that the lives we ignored and abused are equal in value to our own. Or perhaps... even more important."
His words were like a stone cast into stagnant water, sending out ripples that tore through the final tatters of human dignity.
The room erupted into chaos. These people, usually pampered and poised, began to shriek and curse like brawlers in a street market.
"Equal? We are humans! They are brutes!" someone shrieked, their voice pitching into a high-edged frantic note.
"Brutes?" the young man sneered, pointing to the massive screen overhead where the Pangolin was being flayed.
"In the eyes of those 'Executors', what exactly are we?"
Silence reclaimed the air, heavy and suffocating.
The red and green light orbs swayed before everyone, radiating both temptation and threat.
Choosing Red (X) might mean sacrificing something—is it oneself, or another?
Choosing Green (O)—could that truly prove one's "kindness" toward animals?
What was the worth of kindness offered under the shadow of a blade?
"Anyway... Anyway..." someone tried to protest.
"Everyone, stop arguing. Look at the time."
A man with slicked-back hair spoke. He was a high-powered lawyer who, in the old world, had treated animals as mere "property loss", coldly dismissing the agony of owners.
His voice wasn't loud, but it acted like a silencer. The room went dead.
"30 — 29 — 28 —"
The countdown ticked, dragging their spirits into the abyss. At 25 seconds, the tension snapped.
"I... I can't take it anymore!"
The man with the coarse features roared, swinging a heavy fist into the Green orb.
"I only know that a life for a life is the law! These things are worse than beasts—killing them was right! It was RIGHT (O)!"
The moment his skin touched the green light, it exploded like a flash of freezing fire, enveloping his body. A spectral Circle (O) manifested beside him.
Everyone held their breath, staring.
The man froze in his punching stance, as if pinned in mid-air. He felt no pain, let out no scream. He was simply wreathed in green flames.
Then, a weight of unprecedented proportions seemed to drop onto his shoulders; his knees slammed into the ground with a dull thud. Yet, the murky darkness in his eyes seemed to clear for a fleeting second.
He withdrew his fist and slowly opened his palm. The flames clung to him like a shadow. He looked around, his voice trembling but carrying a trace of relief: "Ha... I'm okay..."
"Does... Does that mean he passed?" The young man's pupils contracted.
A middle-aged woman watched this, laughing and crying in a state of total collapse.
She owned a fur boutique, her hands stained with the blood of thousands. She had thought that adopting a few strays would balance the scales, yet here she was.
"I choose Green! I choose Green! I'll never sell fur again! I'll give all my money to animal protection! Please, let me go!" She shrieked, thrusting her hand into the Green orb.
But then, the countdown hit "10".
The dark-skinned man, driven by extreme selfishness and paranoia, birthed a more sinister theory:
He believed the Goddess was "fishing", and that the green light was a mark for those who violated Her hidden decree. He grit his teeth and threw himself into the Red (X).
Instantly, a brilliant, thick crimson light—the color of fresh blood—swelled out. One second passed, then two. Nothing happened.
Red flames wreathed him, and a spectral Cross (X) hovered at his side.
Both sides were "temporarily safe".
This sent the remaining survivors into a chaotic black hole of logic. Even the lawyer was lost, with cold sweat pouring down his neck.
Time waited for no one. 5 — 4 — 3 —
Some closed their eyes and chose at random; others stayed firm on Green; some lunged for Red.
And then, under the shocked gaze of every observer, the lawyer raised both hands at the final second and thrust them into both orbs simultaneously.
Outside, the global audience—including world leaders and the most powerful of the Long Nation—held their breath.
They watched, they researched, they analyzed—desperate to decipher the true intent of the Beast God.
Within the still-developing Divine Realm, She watched the scene unfold.
"The first 'Spokesman' has appeared."
Then, She spoke to the Nightmare Beast kneeling at Her side:
"Prepare the next dream."
At Her decree, the Nightmare Beast slowly closed its eyes, falling into what seemed like a deep, heavy slumber.
Back in the trial, the red and green flames surrounding the lawyer began to swirl and fade.
What remained was no longer a single mark, but a distorted symbol where the Cross (X) and the Circle (O) had fused into one.
The young programmer, still wreathed in green flames, stood with his jaw dropped and his eyes bulging. His gaze raked over the lawyer from head to toe, refusing to miss even the smallest detail.
The moment he locked eyes with the lawyer's hollow, silent stare, it was as if he understood something profound. His entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.