Bald Eagle Nation, Deep Underground Strategic Center.
The air here has been triple-filtered through biological systems, carrying an almost cold dryness.
Unlike the heavy, mountain-like steadiness of the Long Nation headquarters, this space is filled with the aesthetics of industrialized deterrence: exposed high-strength composite pipes, ultra-wide curved screens flickering with a cold blue shimmer, and a palpable scent of gunpowder in the air.
The Pentagon, Level 7 - Top Secret Briefing Room.
Several generals, the Secretary of State, and the Supreme Leader—who had been urgently recalled from vacation—are currently seated around a circular table forged from a single slab of black reinforced alloy.
"Can no one give me a reasonable explanation?"
The Supreme Leader's voice is raspy. He irritably pulls open his silk tie, pointing at the pitch-black screen ahead, which is emitting a strange sound.
At the center of the table, the ultra-wide screen normally used to display the global distribution of carrier strike groups is now occupied by a complex acoustic spectrogram. Green lines, like twisting vipers, dance frantically across the image.
"Sir, these are the results of our multi-dimensional enhancement of the audio recorded during the three hours after the livestream went black." The acoustics expert points to an extremely sharp peak on the spectrogram, his voice echoing in the hollow room.
"Based on acoustic feature extraction," the expert brings up a set of data," the frequency of this sound shifts rapidly between 20Hz and 150Hz. At first listen, it sounds like a blunt force impact. But after our AI algorithms isolated the background noise, the results..." He pauses, his face pale.
"Go on." The Supreme Leader crosses his hands, the veins visible on the back of his hands betraying his agitation.
"The results show that these are harmonic vibrations produced by bones being crushed by targeted high pressure. Furthermore, according to the intensity distribution map, this is not just physical crushing; it sounds like some unknown viscous substance dissolving at the molecular level, creating a chemical whistling sound. We compared the chewing frequencies of every known organism on Blue Planet. No biological creature can produce this 'precise' destructive rhythm."
The CIA Director taps the table, interjecting: "What's even weirder is that through voiceprint extraction, we found that layered within the background of those chewing sounds are 165 types of faint bio-electric wave fluctuations. When decoded, these fluctuations match the brainwave frequencies of humans in states of extreme agony and vocal paralysis. This means..."
"It means those 165 'Executioners' were being... cleaned up in real-time by something in the background, even as it spoke," a general adds coldly, his hand instinctively reaching for his sidearm.
The technical expert finally voices the horrific deduction: "Therefore..." He swallows hard. "We have reason to suspect—those 165 'human' souls are being devoured alive by something."
"Not only that," another expert pulls up a different chart, "we detected an infrasound frequency hidden within these sounds. This frequency directly induces a 'primordial fear response' in the human hippocampus. Three of our technicians suffered violent vomiting while analyzing this audio; one went into cardiac arrest and is still being resuscitated."
The Supreme Leader stares fixedly at the dancing green line. That isn't a sound wave—it's the rhythm of death.
The air in the underground command center seems to freeze.
The conclusions from the acoustic analysis on the big screen feel like a resounding slap to the faces of these elites, who pride themselves on being the world's hegemons.
"Enough!"
The Supreme Leader stands abruptly, his eyes flashing with a ferocity born of extreme terror. "If all we can do is sit here and record how we die, then what use are trillions in military spending and this so-called 'Superpower' title?"
He turns to the ash-faced technical director: "Initiate 'Project Olympus'. If this so-called 'God' wants to interfere with us through electronic signals, then we will counterattack with 'logic bombs' and 'pure physical links'."
"But sir..." the director trembles, trying to explain, "our defense system already replied with the 'List Unfinished' code. This means the opponent is already at the base logic layer—"
"Then cut it off!" The General slams his fist onto the table with a thunderous crash.
"Activate the 'Noah-Class' Deep-Dive Communication Module! That is a physical pulse system left over from the Cold War that doesn't rely on modern internet protocols at all. Notify the 'Ares' aerospace plane in orbit to prepare to release the 'Rods from God'."
"Rods from God". The ultimate killing move of the Bald Eagle Nation.
These are kinetic kill weapons made of high-purity tungsten, dropped from low Blue Planet orbit.
They contain no electronic guidance; they rely solely on gravitational acceleration to generate a destructive force comparable to a tactical nuclear bomb.
With the authorization granted by the Supreme Leader, the entire underground base spiraled into a frenzy of operation.
Thousands of technicians began physically severing fiber-optic lines, replacing them with primitive copper-core cables.
In their eyes, this was not merely a defense, but a "War to Save Civilization". They sought to use the most rudimentary physical disruptions to counter a high-dimensional authority they could not comprehend.
Meanwhile, the Bald Eagle Nation's elite hacking teams gathered in a separate secret chamber.
Before them sat several quantum computers submerged in liquid nitrogen, attempting a brute-force decryption to locate the "source address" of that black livestream.
"We do not accept judgment," the Leader stated, punctuating each word as he glared at the screen.
His tone carried a tragic, yet foolish, mortal stubbornness. "Even if it were God Herself seeking to take someone from Tashingwon, She would have to answer to our nuclear button first."
Deep within the Divine Realm, Beast God casually brushed Her hand across the water mirror, which reflected the self-destructive "resistance" occurring in the mortal world.
"Utterly foolish," the Nightmare Beast remarked coldly from the side, eyeing the Leader's face, which was contorted with rage.
Before a deity who commanded causality, the so-called nuclear deterrent was nothing more than a fragile matchstick in the hands of a stubborn child.
"And thus, 'humanity' remains a truly wondrous kind of creature."
She gestured lightly. Without even needing to lower Her head to look, the densely packed blacklist was fully committed to Her memory.
To Her, the names on this list were merely decayed branches to be pruned at will, stirring no emotion.
What the Blue Planet truly required for its future were not these ashes, but seeds capable of taking root and sprouting from within them.
There was no anxiety in the eyes of Beast God, only a long-term vision that transcended the dimensions of time.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the candidate who could pass the ultimate trial She had set—perhaps a mortal who refused to give up on love amidst despair, perhaps a "special individual" who displayed the complexity of human nature during judgment, or perhaps, an existence even She had not foreseen.
"We need only wait for the right moment."
The net of judgment had been cast completely over the mortal world, which currently believed that "everything was over".
Within the Divine Realm, not all spaces are as solemn as Beast God's residence or as dark and cold as Law Keeper's domain.
One place is currently radiating ten thousand streaks of rainbow light, brilliant enough to dazzle the eyes—this is the territory of the Blue Phoenix, a secret realm woven from flowing light, rosy clouds, and eternal spring.
The air is filled with the melodious chirping of a hundred birds, and the ground is covered in grass as soft as velvet, interspersed with glowing exotic plants.
In the distance, a spring flows with seven-colored nectar, every detail brimming with a sacred and vibrant aura.
However, this tranquility and sanctity are being broken by a small figure. Qinghong is busily moving about the Blue Phoenix's territory.
She is carefully adjusting a set of livestreaming equipment—flickering with a soft spiritual light and of unknown origin—placing it among the branches of an ancient tree covered in blossoms that glow like iridescent clouds.
This spot offers a wide view, capturing both the distant thundering spiritual waterfall and the fragrance and vitality of the exotic flora below. It is the ideal livestreaming studio in her heart.
"Looking at you bustling about, you seem even more excited than I was when I first took charge of this territory."
A clear voice, like jade striking stone, rang out behind Qinghong. At some point, the Blue Phoenix had folded her wings and was watching Qinghong with great interest.
Qinghong turned around, her small face overflowing with an irrepressible excitement and anticipation, like a child about to receive a cherished toy.
She clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling: "How can I not be excited? This is a brand new beginning!"
Her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the words Beast God had left in her consciousness not long ago.
That voice was steady and far-reaching, carrying an unquestionable majesty, yet containing a trace of imperceptible warmth:
"Su Qiang and Mad Dog are my 'Thunder,' responsible for deterring evil and cleansing filth."
She paused, and the focus of that grand consciousness seemed to land upon her. "But you, Qinghong. You shall become my 'Rain and Dew'."
"'Rain and Dew'?"
At the time, Qinghong was stunned. She instinctively pointed her fair, small hand at herself, her round eyes filled with disbelief. "Me? Do I have to be like Su Qiang and the others... facing those malicious humans and carrying out punishments?"
She had witnessed the power of "Thunder"; it was synonymous with destruction and terror.
"No,"Beast God's voice dismissed her guess with a guiding tone.
"You shall not face those who have sunk into darkness. You shall face those who, in this chaotic world, still choose to light a faint flame in their hearts. Your mission is to guide them on how to truly live as 'living beings' in this era of transition, coexisting in harmony with all things and living with dignity."
"So that's how it is..." At that moment, Qinghong's heart was filled with a mix of awe for her mission and a sense of relief.
"What? Thinking of The Great One's entrustment and getting nervous again?"
The voice of the Blue Phoenix pulled Qinghong back to reality. She had a playful smile. "Don't go fumbling when the time comes and fail to produce results, letting down The Great One's expectations."
Hearing this, the slight confusion on Qinghong's face was quickly replaced by determination. She puffed out her small chest with pride: "Don't worry, Lord Blue Phoenix! I will definitely not disappoint myGreat Goddess!"
She patted her current human body, her tone full of confidence. "Don't forget, before I exchange, this body belonged to a somewhat famous influencer! I'm an expert at catching eyes, interacting with the audience, and making complex things sound vivid and interesting!"
—After all, when Great Beast God decided to start the global livestream to deliver divine oracles to humanity, I was the one who suggested it first!
She thought, bubbling with inner joy.
At this point, Qinghong's eyes grew even brighter, as if she could already see countless viewers through her livestream, learning about a brand new world and feeling the equality and preciousness of life.
She turned back to continue adjusting the equipment, full of drive: "Just you wait and see, I will definitely create the most special and meaningful livestream, letting the 'Rain and Dew' nourish every corner that needs it!"
Seeing her so full of confidence, a trace of a soft smile appeared in the Blue Phoenix's phoenix-like eyes.
She nodded slightly and said no more, simply watching this messenger of "Rain and Dew", burdened with a special mission, as she began her brand-new journey.