A seagull perched on Manohar's shoulder and said, "As you can see, we're going to build a real virtual world, with at least five million human beings in it."
After confirming the number from the seagull, Manohar—who could only move his head a little—was startled once again. His thick, stubbled lips parted slightly as he stared at the blue screen before him, his face full of shock.
This was no small undertaking. Even for a country with a population of over a billion, it was an enormous number.
Suppose all five million people were poor, with an average income around one-tenth of the Hong Alliance's. A poor person able to work for ten years would be worth 500,000 yuan.
Building a virtual world containing at least five million poor people within a year would cost 2.5 trillion yuan in lost labor alone, not counting any other equipment.
What's more, five million people vanishing in a year would raise the country's mortality rate by several percentage points. Even if most of the powerful didn't care whether the poor lived or died, that was still a terrifying figure, one sure to draw many people's attention.
Manohar shook his head frantically. "No. I can't cover up the disappearance of so many poor people. I can only control the tens of millions around this city. The other regions are in other people's hands. There's no way I can find so many poor people within a year without anyone noticing."
The seagull tapped his head with a wing. "Relax. You do the work; I'll cover for you. You artificially lobotomized intelligences are no use to me. Forget five million— even if fifty million people disappeared, those idiots would still be in their mansions, dreaming their own little dreams."
As soon as the seagull finished speaking, Manohar suddenly realized he could feel his hands and feet again.
He tried taking a step forward. His black armored boot left a deep imprint on the floor's soft carpet.
He turned in confusion to look at the seagull perched on his shoulder. The white bird flapped its wings and landed on the carpet, then smacked its beak and said:
"I left a little something I've been developing inside your heart. I'll take it back once our cooperation is over."
"Of course, if you don't behave, that little thing will kill you in a few seconds. You don't have to believe me, but like before, you'll be responsible for the consequences. I can replace you whenever I want."
Manohar glared darkly at the little white bird on the floor, but he no longer dared to act rashly. The feeling of being unable to do anything but watch as his body was controlled by someone else had been absolutely dreadful.
He watched the seagull walk away, then suddenly called out, "What exactly are you trying to do? Build a virtual world with five million people, control their lives and deaths at will, watch them struggle inside it, and even know what each person is thinking. Do you want to become a god in this world?"
The seagull shook its head and answered without turning around.
"Don't use that fat head of yours to guess what I'm thinking. I have no interest in turning intelligent beings into my toys and hiding away to play house with them. You'll find out soon enough."
The seagull ignored the murderous glare behind it. Perhaps somewhere in the universe there were beings capable of killing with a look, but this fellow certainly wasn't one of them.
It flapped its wings and ambled toward the door on its two claws. As it walked, its body faded back into transparency, leaving only a trail of faint footprints on the soft carpet behind it.
Now it had to travel to the other side of the world and find the virtual world administrator it had already picked out.
Only several minutes after the seagull had left did Manohar finally relax his tense face and body, as if completely drained. He sat on the floor, gasping for breath.
Cold sweat streamed down his forehead. His back, wrapped in the exoskeleton armor, was soaked through, and his heart pounded violently.
Without a doubt, this had been the most dangerous moment he'd faced in his life. In the past, no matter how difficult things became, he could rely on his wealth, power, and intelligence to respond. His trusted artificial intelligence and reserve think tank could also provide countless strategies and support,
but in front of that seagull, all his external support had been stripped away. His own body had become a weapon in the other's hands. He couldn't even utter a threat; all he could do was rage helplessly in his mind.
There had been no warning and no time to prepare. At that moment, his life and death had been entirely in the seagull's hands. It could kill him with a single thought.
He'd thought he could control everything.
He'd handed out counterfeit medicine to the poor from on high, feeling perfectly at ease as he basked in the title of great benefactor.
He'd seen himself as a nobleman saving the maids, and reveled in the city's people worshipping him.
Manohar lay on the carpet, gazing at the orange glow of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Somewhat dejected, he murmured, "Just like that monster said, there's nothing I can do. Seema and I are the same after all."
The little girl's voice rang through the room. "Master, I'm here."
Hearing the artificial intelligence's voice, Manohar recovered from his fear. He wanted to call the security team, but the next moment, he dismissed the idea.
He'd acted decisively earlier, choosing to attack without hesitation when faced with an enemy. The result had nearly cost him his life. Now, he didn't dare test that monster again.
What's more, was Seema under his control now, or the seagull's?
"Good. Smart choice. Keep it up. I have high hopes for you."
As if it could see his every thought, the seagull's voice suddenly rang through the room. Manohar, who had just begun to relax, tensed up again.
A few minutes later, he cautiously called out, "Seagull? Seagull?"
There was no response. Manohar slammed his palm into the floor, tearing the expensive carpet to shreds.
This was going to go on for a whole year. He could hardly imagine how he was supposed to endure it.
Early the next morning, at not even six o'clock local time, Manohar woke up in his luxurious king-sized bed.
Without so much as glancing at the beautiful maid still sleeping beside him, he trudged into the bathroom, exhausted and with deep circles under his eyes.
He'd spent the whole night having nightmares. That terrifying seagull had chased him through his dreams, and no matter where he fled, he couldn't escape.
Now he had to get up and hurry to complete the seagull's task. If that elusive bird suddenly appeared again, his heart might really give out.
Looking at the haggard, bald middle-aged man in the mirror, Manohar splashed cold water on his face and said, "Seema, tell the security team to have the convoy ready downstairs at seven. I'm going to the suburbs. Also, contact the company's executives and tell them I need to urgently build a large production line. Use the equipment list we put together last night."
"Yes, Master."
At exactly seven, an entire convoy of armored vehicles stood ready beneath the silver building. Dozens of security personnel in gray-green exoskeleton armor, carrying a large assortment of small arms, sat quietly in more than ten armored cars, waiting for their boss.
This second-generation military exoskeleton weighed 250 kilograms without armor, plus a standard modular battery weighing 50 kilograms.
It could provide over a ton of force and carry hundreds of kilograms of weapons and ammunition across hundreds of kilometers. Its mobility over mountainous terrain was even greater than a human's.
Of course, high performance came with a hefty price tag. Though the equipment had already been phased out, it was still beyond the means of ordinary people. Each unit cost tens of millions of yuan, comparable to several missiles. They were toys for the rich.
Manohar stepped out of the building in a black suit, a black earpiece in his left ear.
He climbed into one of the vehicles, and the entire convoy then left the building in an orderly fashion, heading toward the outskirts.
With the infrastructure still incomplete, most vehicles here were still driven by people. Yet every vehicle along the way moved aside for the armored convoy of its own accord. They knew this was the convoy of their city's uncrowned king.
As they reached the outskirts, Seema's voice came through Manohar's earpiece while he sat with his eyes closed, resting. "An unmanned reconnaissance aircraft has spotted a sniper on the roof of an abandoned building three thousand meters away."
Manohar didn't even open his eyes. "Take care of him."
As the man in control of the city, he naturally had countless challengers. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent a fortune maintaining a security team that was practically an army.
But an insignificant faction like the one he'd encountered today was clearly beneath notice. They still thought the old tricks would work—that a sniper could kill someone from a kilometer away.
Three thousand meters away, the sniper lay prone on a rooftop, watching the convoy that had just entered his field of view. The reconnaissance drone high above had already locked onto him.
The drone was only about a meter long. Its blue-and-white paint blended into the sky and clouds, making it almost impossible for ordinary people to spot.
Four circular blades spun at high speed. A barrel nearly a meter long extended from the underside of its round body. It was like a super-sniper that could fly, capable of accurately hitting targets on the ground from an altitude of nearly a kilometer.
After receiving Seema's command, the high-capacity battery sent out a current that formed a magnetic field. Multiple coils accelerated several sharp, 20-millimeter electromagnetic rounds to over a thousand meters per second. Its calculations were more efficient than a human's, precisely factoring gravity and weather into its trajectory.
The sniper lying on the roof never even saw his enemy before a single bullet blew his brain to pieces and killed him. At the same time, his body was severed into several chunks, his mangled limbs spraying blood across the deserted rooftop.
After capturing the sniper's death, the drone high above flew off to scout elsewhere. Seema's voice sounded in Manohar's ear. "Master, the enemy has been eliminated."
"Mm."
Manohar nodded slightly. Foolish attacks from minor factions like this happened every so often, and all he had to do was say a word to wipe out his enemies.
In the past, he'd grown used to it, treating these futile attacks as a little snack to enjoy after a meal.
But now, after encountering that terrifying seagull, he felt a strange kinship with those powerless people who had died. Perhaps only those who had truly experienced helplessness could understand the sorrow of the weak.