Chapter Twenty-Six: Certain Death

As the negotiation was about to begin, many eyes in this world converged here.

The Free Zone.

“Oh my god, what’s going on?”

“Is that the leader?”

“Why is the leader’s image appearing on every big screen?”

“Turn on your neural interface; you can watch the broadcast directly there!”

“What are they doing?”

“It seems like some kind of confrontation? A negotiation?”

“No way. In the Free Zone, no one is qualified to negotiate with the leader.”

“But this young man is negotiating with the leader.”

“Without a doubt!”

“Who is this young man?”

“What gives him the right to do this?”

“He appears to be a wanted criminal.”

“I recognize him too — the wanted man named Xia Yan.”

“He’s courting death, truly courting death!”

“This is a public execution, isn’t it?”

“But I still can’t accept that the leader would waste time on such a lowly pawn!”

Among those speaking were commoners and gifted individuals alike. Yet, without exception, they looked at Xia Yan as though he were already dead.

Some knew Xia Yan; others did not. They speculated wildly about his motives, his reasons, and why the leader would even negotiate with such a nobody.

They eagerly awaited one thing:

Xia Yan’s death sentence.

Elsewhere.

“Negotiation?”

“Wenzhe from the Free Zone?”

“That man is a prodigy on the cusp of absolute development.”

“To see such a lofty leader actually negotiating with a human.”

“Who is that human?”

“Very young — no older than sixteen or seventeen.”

“With such strength, he shouldn’t even qualify to negotiate with Wenzhe.”

“Does anyone know him?”

“No, an unknown nobody.”

“If he were a talent from Zones One through Six, at least some would recognize him.”

“Probably just a minor player from Zones Seven to Ten.”

“Daring to provoke Wenzhe is a death sentence.”

“There is no way out.”

“Is he just waiting to die?”

“A public execution.”

“Poor thing. At least I would want a dignified death.”

“Killing each other in front of the whole world—truly a cruel spectacle.”

In these other regions, few recognized Xia Yan, and such intelligence would take considerable time to reach Zones Seven through Ten. Even at its fastest, it would be at least twenty minutes, and more likely longer—by the time the news arrived, the negotiation would have long ended.

Those unfamiliar with Xia Yan could only come to one conclusion: this black-haired youth was courting death.

This was a dead-end, with no hope of survival.

In Zone One, Jingyang City, within the mansion of Gong Kui, she was busily using her neural interface to process related documents.

A knock came at the door, and a woman in her thirties, clad in military uniform, entered. She carried a commanding presence and a solemn expression.

“Lady Gong Kui, intelligence has just arrived. I hope you can review it promptly,” the soldier Xia Yi said earnestly.

“Intelligence?” Gong Kui paused. “Regarding the Free Zone?”

“More precisely, regarding the Free Zone and Xia Yan,” Xia Yi replied.

Gong Kui’s expression immediately hardened. She had never confirmed that Xia Yan would head to the Free Zone, but this intelligence was far from simple.

She connected her neural interface to the Free Zone's signal source without obstruction, as all these images had been made public.

It was a live broadcast—likely a negotiation.

One of the figures was very familiar: the leader of the Free Zone, a man named Wenzhe. In many ways, he was hardly inferior to the leaders of the Six Great Powers.

The other person was even more familiar—it was the missing Xia Yan.

Based on a few scattered pieces of online intelligence, she quickly pieced together the sequence of events. Gong Kui could hardly believe it: Xia Yan had truly pushed matters this far. He was determined to provoke a Free Zone leader, prepared to fight to the death.

“This is almost hopeless, Xia Yan,” Gong Kui murmured, bewildered. “Why has it come to this? Were you betrayed by those around you? Who gave you the orders? That woman? Are you working for the Demonic Clan?”

“Or did Emilia spare you, and you happened to develop your brain domain to thirty percent, awakening your alien bloodline and joining their ranks? What exactly is your status now? Are you an enemy of humanity?”

“But,” Gong Kui hesitated, “there’s no way out anymore, Xia Yan. Even if this blows up and becomes public worldwide, right under everyone’s noses, there is no hope at all.”

Gong Kui was intelligent and perceptive; she understood the pros and cons instantly.

“If the Free Zone strikes you covertly, and the matter leaks out, their price would be heavy. But if they act openly, in front of everyone, their cost is much lighter,” Gong Kui shook her head. “They won’t spare you. The terms you can offer must be minimal; otherwise, Wenzhe wouldn’t agree.”

“If you hope to walk away unscathed, that’s a colossal joke,” Gong Kui said with pity. “From my perspective, Wenzhe’s agreement to such terms is just a pretense to find a suitable reason before killing you.”

“The disadvantage is overwhelming. There isn’t even a one percent chance of survival. It’s a certain death trap,” Gong Kui gave up. “Fine, if you die, you die. A fallen genius is no longer valuable. Someone like Wenzhe personally handling this won’t allow any mistakes. The Clean Chain will be returned, and with a legitimate reason, they will kill you, minimizing your threat to the Free Zone, perhaps even erasing it entirely.”

Gong Kui was a smart and outstanding leader—she had anticipated the possibility of encountering Xia Yan. That was why she had sent Lan Xin to the Free Zone, to prevent precisely such an accident.

Yet the accident turned into an even greater misfortune.

All her painstaking efforts were in vain.

In the end, Xia Yan was still destined to die in the Free Zone.

She lifted her gaze, piercing through layers of white clouds to see the endless blue sky.

Emilia sipped her rose tea, her eyes thoughtful.

“Sir, the plan has failed,” Vivi said regretfully.

“Number Seven truly betrayed us,” Emilia said with helplessness.

“A wanted criminal whose identity has been exposed has no way out,” Vivi said, looking at the images on her neural interface. “This final negotiation is a joke. Laying everything bare makes your trump card insignificant. Xia Yan is doomed.”

“Indeed, he is,” Emilia affirmed. “But there are many ways to die: killed without resistance, or killed after fighting back once or twice.”

Emilia’s words implied that even in utter desperation, a faint glimmer of hope might still remain, however nearly invisible it was...