Chapter 169
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Chapter 169: Title
As the Chief of Information Section 2, Liang An had received intelligence from America earlier than anyone—a privilege that now left him utterly stunned.
The submerged continent beneath the Atlantic, housing ruins of the Atlantean civilization, had been discovered and studied more extensively by America long before others took notice.
A week prior, startling reports emerged: the light pillar stretching from the ocean depths into space could transmit messages through its radiance. Given the elapsed time, if Atlantis still existed and retained the capacity to receive signals, they’d likely already obtained this information.
Though theories about alien civilizations had circulated for over a century, not even tangential evidence had surfaced. Now? With divine beings walking among mortals, the existence of extraterrestrial life seemed almost trivial. Even if such civilizations existed, what connection could they possibly have with Blue Star?
Yet here they were, amidst Blue Star’s cascading crises, confronting this supposed revelation. Though “alien” felt incongruous—Atlantis itself had thrived on this very planet for millennia.
Zhongxia desperately wished the news false, but that accursed deep blue beam left no doubt—the United States’ fingerprints were all over this.
“Another item for today’s agenda,” Lin Jing remarked, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the room. “Assuming Atlantis survives and receives this signal, we must consider their potential stance toward us.”
“As fellow Blue Star descendants, hostility seems unlikely,” Tang Tong interjected, brows furrowed. “We’ve multiple contingency plans. Activating Level C might suffice.”
Cui Ming shook his head. “Premature disclosure would force public announcements. Other nations remain silent—we should wait.”
“Let them make the first move. Our satellites and space stations would detect any approach.”
The Atlantean exodus itself suggested catastrophic collapse—likely natural disasters by current analysis. Their civilization’s survival remained dubious at best. While society had adapted to divine manifestations, confirming alien contact could reignite the chaos of the Awakening of Spiritual Energy era.
Thirty minutes later, the meeting room door shimmered as a figure phased through.
Zhan Yuan collapsed onto a sofa like a marionette with severed strings. “Greetings, comrades,” he sighed. “Seems bureaucracy transcends realms—you look more harried than underworld clerks.”
Cui Ming glanced up. “Weren’t you processing the new arrivals?”
Materializing a spectral candle, Zhan Yuan took a weary bite. “Overflowing queues. Three billion dead these past months—not counting sentient creatures. The Bridge of Helplessness backs up to the gates of the dead. The Emperor finally purged their memories en masse for the Six Realms of Rebirth.” His hollow laugh echoed. “Elsewise, the underworld would’ve burst.”
The room stiffened. Blue Star’s population had plummeted from ten billion to thirty-year-ago levels—three in ten erased. Monsters left skeletal cities where thriving metropolises once stood, nations retreating from bone-choked wastelands. Statistics couldn’t convey the horror: entire communities reduced to numerals in a report.
Zhan Yuan’s words left Cui Ming and the others perplexed. “I thought souls could dwell in the underworld until their Ghostly Life expires. With so many reincarnating, how could there possibly be enough newborns…”
These days… most have little heart for raising children.
Though Zhongxia had mitigated casualties during the cataclysm, losses remained unavoidable. The nation clung to the ideal of saving every citizen, yet reality proved harsher.
Monsters cared not for mountains or metropolises, city centers or suburbs—they infested every corner. Regions lacking strong defenses suffered devastating blows.
Zhongxia had lost nearly a hundred million souls, Mourning Banners fluttering outside nearly every household—the deadliest catastrophe since the nation’s founding. Only the knowledge of underworld refuge and future reincarnation softened this bitter draught.
The promise of afterlife reunion transformed grief into temporary separation—as if the departed merely journeyed beyond the horizon, existing somewhere beyond sight.
“Those tainted by the Abyss must reincarnate swiftly for their next life’s sake. The Emperor claimed they should protect Blue Star, but its current tier restricts their power.”
“Nor can deities govern celestial calamities. When worlds collide, only collective mortal will determines victory… Elsewise, would the Emperor drain his strength to hasten queued souls through the Six Realms of Rebirth?”
“Regarding newborns…” Zhan Yuan hesitated, conflict etching his features before he continued, “Absence here doesn’t mean absence elsewhere. Not now doesn’t preclude past or future.”
The implications hung heavy. Sharp minds around him instantly grasped the unspoken truth, their gazes pressing for details.
“Ask no more,” Zhan Yuan raised defensive palms. “Know only this brings no harm—perhaps even benefit.”
“Half-truths are crueler than silence,” Tang Tong snapped, though concern softened her rebuke. Her sharp tongue veiled gentle care.
“It’s no secret below,” he relented. “Many souls learn this during rebirth preparations. They assumed reincarnation only propelled them forward through time.”
None had imagined the Six Realms of Rebirth might scatter souls beyond Blue Star. The Eastern Underworld’s turmoil paled only slightly against Western realms—where Lords of the Dead toiled endlessly until the God of Death forged special channels.
While the Eastern domain governed Zhongxia alone, Western afterlife jurisdictions shouldered global losses from deity-abandoned regions.
Zhan Yuan soon excused himself from the busy officials. Drifting through Special Bureau corridors, he exchanged nods with few acquaintances—his underworld duties left little time for surface friendships.
He wandered to the eighth-floor Accommodation Area, now eerily quiet with most agents battling residual monsters. The reception desk hosted its ever-present guardian—Su Guan, clerical sentinel maintaining order.
“Zhan Yuan?” She looked up from her drama, surprise lifting her brows. “Rare visit.”
“Half-day respite after underworld shifts,” he explained.
Su Guan gestured to her snack array. “Share these? Company’s scarce here.”
He settled into a chair, ghostly fingers peeling a banana only to inhale its essence—his cultivation still too frail for mortal sustenance beyond spectral incense.
“Tell me of the realms below,” she implored, mirroring his fruit-peeling motions. Though older—a woman in her prime to his eternally youthful visage—curiosity bridged their ages.
“What would you hear?”
“Anything.”
“The tapestry’s too vast. Choose your thread.”
She pondered. “How many linger there?”
“A million perhaps,” he estimated. “Those resisting rebirth.”
“Were there more, Blue Star might empty.”
“Not necessarily.” His smile turned rueful. “Our disaster claimed twice Zhongxia’s living population. Abyss-touched souls bypass queues—straight to new lives.”
“And ancients?” she pressed. “Do bygone eras’ ghosts remain?”
“Legends say yes.” He spread his hands. “Yan Luo and the judges ruling now? Their speech drips archaic formality—clearly ancient persons from another age.”
