novelraw Chapter 28 : Recruiting the Transcendent
Chapter 28 : Recruiting the Transcendent
Chapter 28: Recruiting the Transcendent
The third day after the great battle of the Transcendents in the suburbs.
Xiaxi Village, on the outskirts of Jiang City.
A convoy of black off-road vehicles drove silently into the remote and tranquil village, finally stopping before the old family house of Zheng Wei.
The car doors opened, and a group of men and women dressed in plain clothes stepped out, carrying medical kits and briefcases, their demeanors calm and professional.
Leading them was Chen Mo.
At this moment, Chen Mo was not in his police uniform but instead wore an ordinary jacket.
The sharpness in his eyes had been deliberately restrained, replaced by composure and sincerity.
He raised a hand, signaling the others not to approach the dilapidated old house, then walked forward alone and gently knocked on the courtyard gate.
“Who are you?!”
Zheng Wei rushed out from the house at once, his towering frame like a wall, completely blocking the old wooden door behind him.
His eyes were full of wariness and hostility as he stared fixedly at Chen Mo.
“Mr. Zheng Wei, hello.”
Chen Mo raised both hands to show he was unarmed, wearing the calmest smile he could manage. “My name is Chen Mo, from a… special department.”
“We mean no harm. We just want to talk.”
“Talk about what?!” Zheng Wei’s gaze remained cold.
“About your daughter, Zheng Xiaoxiao’s illness.”
That single sentence made Zheng Wei’s body freeze instantly.
Then, Chen Mo nodded slightly toward one of his team members.
The team member immediately stepped forward, handed Chen Mo a briefcase, and then quickly retreated.
“Please take a look at this first.” Chen Mo took out a file and a tablet from the briefcase and handed them to Zheng Wei.
“This is the latest generation of CAR-T cell therapy combined with gene repair, a treatment plan designed specifically for your daughter after a joint consultation by the top hematology and genetic engineering experts of the Longxi Republic.”
“We have a ninety-percent chance of completely curing her aplastic anemia within three months, without any aftereffects.”
Zheng Wei took the document and began reading carefully.
“‘Combined Treatment Plan of Chimeric Cell Transplantation and Gene-Targeted Repair for Patient Zheng Xiaoxiao with Aplastic Anemia.’”
At the bottom of the plan were several seals—institutions whose names he had never even heard of, yet each radiated authority just from their titles: the National Academy of Life Sciences of the Longxi Republic, the Military Medical Academy of the Longxi Republic…
Zheng Wei’s hands began to tremble.
Then he opened the tablet computer, and a video began to play on the screen.
In the video, an elderly expert with graying hair but bright, spirited eyes spoke directly to the camera, explaining in detail the feasibility of the treatment plan.
“…Through our newly developed ‘chimeric cell’ technology, we can reconstruct a completely new, healthy immune and hematopoietic system for the patient.”
“Combined with gene-targeting medication, we can repair damaged gene segments at their root.”
“According to our simulated clinical data, this treatment’s success rate exceeds ninety-nine percent.”
“Mr. Zheng Wei, simply put, we can cure your daughter—let her grow up healthy, like any normal child.”
Zheng Wei stared hard at the document. His eyes turned red instantly, his hands trembling uncontrollably.
He thought of his daughter’s pale little face, of those countless deathly hospital notices, of the years he had worked himself to exhaustion…
Of the humiliation when he knelt before a loan shark to beg for mercy, and even of the robbery he committed at a casino…
Everything he had done—all of it—was for that faint glimmer of hope for his daughter’s life.
And now, a treatment plan with a ninety-nine-percent cure rate lay lightly before him.
“What… do you want?”
His voice was hoarse as he lifted his reddened eyes, staring hard at Chen Mo.
“It’s simple.”
“The nation can save your daughter.”
Chen Mo looked steadily at Zheng Wei’s bloodshot eyes, his tone calm.
“And we can give her the best medical care, the best educational resources, the best of everything.”
“In return… we only need your cooperation.”
“For your act of killing Wang Qiang and the others in self-defense, we can let bygones be bygones.”
“You will receive a new, legally protected identity under the nation’s name, a respectable job, and benefits and privileges far beyond your imagination.”
“All you need to do is join us—become the strength of the nation—and use your abilities to fight the true ‘enemies’ who threaten our country and its people!”
“You will no longer be a fugitive, but a national hero—a man respected by all.”
Chen Mo’s voice was like the whisper of a devil, each word striking precisely at the softest part of Zheng Wei’s heart.
Zheng Wei clenched the document tightly, his knuckles whitening from the force.
He was a simple man, not one for philosophy.
But he knew—this was the only hope for his daughter’s life.
He slowly raised his head to look at Chen Mo, at the man who embodied the nation’s power, and rasped out, “I… agree.”
……
Zheng Wei became the first officially recruited Transcendent.
He was brought to a vast, heavily guarded underground base beneath Jiang City.
And the authorities kept their word.
That very afternoon, a military helicopter landed in the open field outside the village, transporting his daughter to the top-tier intensive care ward of Jiang City Medical University’s Affiliated Hospital.
A medical team composed of the country’s foremost experts immediately began her treatment.
Watching through the video feed as his daughter’s pale face broke into a peaceful smile for the first time, Zheng Wei—the man who bled but never cried—sobbed like a child.
Later, under the guidance of psychological experts, Zheng Wei revealed everything he knew about the “Game of Gods” to the authorities—without the slightest reservation.
Factions, identities, rules, death penalties…
When all this information—beyond human comprehension—was compiled into a full report and laid upon the top-level conference table, everyone present felt an unprecedented chill and awe.
A killing game that used an entire city as its chessboard and lives as its wagers!
Could there truly be a god in this world—and was that god so cruel and merciless?!
All their previous investigations and assumptions now seemed childish and laughable before this brutal truth.
The conference room fell into a suffocating silence.
“Game of Gods… a god…”
After a long while, a general bearing the stars of a commander finally spoke, his voice dry with shock.
“So you’re saying that all our past operations—whether pursuit or encirclement—were merely us accompanying a group of ‘players’ in a bloody game?”
His words were laced with fury and humiliation, as if he had been made a fool.
“No, Comrade General.”
Professor Jiang from the National Academy of Sciences pushed up his glasses. His face was pale, but his eyes were bright, gleaming with a mix of fear and intellectual hunger.
“From Zheng Wei’s account, we… don’t even qualify as players.”
“We—and everyone in this city—are merely the scenery, the props, and the expendable NPCs of this ‘game.’”
That word—NPC—borrowed from video games, sounded absurd coming from the mouth of a national scientist, yet it was chillingly precise. Everyone present felt a cold dread crawl up their spines.
“The creator of this Game of Gods… what exactly is it?”
The senior intelligence officer frowned deeply. “An enemy nation? Or some secret organization wielding technology far beyond our own?”
“Could this be a meticulously planned ‘unrestricted war’ targeting the Longxi Republic?”
“To sow chaos within our borders and achieve some hidden political agenda?”
That was the most reasonable explanation according to their experience—and the easiest to accept.
“Impossible.”
The general immediately rejected the idea. “I’ll say it again—Liu Gang’s absolute control over metal, and Sun Na’s command over fire—those powers have already gone far beyond what ‘technology’ can explain.”
“This isn’t any known branch of physics. This is… magic, or perhaps a miracle.”
“Are you saying that the creator of this game is truly an omnipotent god?” The intelligence officer’s tone was filled with doubt.
“I don’t know if he’s a god,”
The general’s gaze turned razor-sharp. “I only know that he’s an enemy that must be eliminated!”
“I propose that the creator of this game be immediately classified as a top-level strategic target!”
“Mobilize all our technological resources, including orbital reconnaissance systems, to conduct nonstop global scans for abnormal energy signatures!”
“As long as he remains on this planet, we’ll dig him out—no matter where he hides!”
However, Professor Jiang shook his head.
“Comrades, have we ever considered another possibility?”
“The creator of this game—perhaps he isn’t even ‘human,’ nor any kind of ‘organization’ or ‘entity’ we can comprehend.”
“What do you mean?” Chen Mo couldn’t help but ask.
“Based on Zheng Wei’s description, the creator of this game can implant information directly into players’ minds, can precisely report each death, and can freely define and modify the rules at will…”
Professor Jiang paused, seemingly searching for the right word.
“This isn’t something science can achieve. It’s more like a form of… authority.”
“Like a programmer in front of his own code—he can freely modify, add, or delete any part of the program.”
“What if the world we live in is itself just one vast ‘program’?”
“And this game’s creator is the sole being with ‘administrator privileges’?”
“Or perhaps he isn’t even a ‘lifeform’—but the manifestation of some higher-dimensional cosmic law?”
“Like gravity, or the Second Law of Thermodynamics—an objective existence we cannot communicate with, only passively endure?”
Professor Jiang’s words plunged the conference room into an even deeper silence than before.
If the game’s creator truly was the “administrator” of their world—the incarnation of the laws of the universe—
Then how were they to fight him?
How could they possibly resist a “god” who had written all the rules?
That sense of powerlessness and insignificance, born of an incomprehensible higher dimension, weighed down on everyone present.
“Why… why would he do this?” After a long silence, Chen Mo finally managed to speak.
“Perhaps… simply to ‘observe.’”
A flicker of near-mad brilliance shone in Professor Jiang’s eyes. “Just as humans might place a colony of ants in a glass tank—to observe how they forage, fight, and build their nests.”
“Perhaps he cast twelve ‘Transcendent’ variables into our stable yet fragile ecosystem of human society—just to see what kind of ‘chemical reactions’ would occur.”
“All of us, including the players, are merely actors on his stage—pieces on his board.”
“And he is the only audience.”
Professor Jiang’s words sent a chill straight into everyone’s souls.
That utter helplessness of being toyed with completely—at the whim of a higher power—was enough to shatter their sanity.
In the end, it was the commander who broke the silence.
“Professor Jiang’s hypothesis is enlightening.”
His voice remained calm, as though nothing could shake his iron resolve.
“But regardless of whether this game’s creator is human or ghost, program or law—we cannot sit here and wait for death.”
“The search for the game’s creator continues. But for now, our top priority is to handle the ‘game’ already unfolding in Jiang City.”
“Since it’s a game, it must have rules. And where there are rules, there are loopholes we can exploit.”
He turned his gaze to Chen Mo.
“Comrade Chen Mo, I authorize you to establish the Bureau of Transcendent Affairs—you’ll serve as its director.”
“I don’t care what methods you use—coercion, persuasion, or manipulation.”
“I want you to quickly assemble at least one unit of Transcendents who will operate entirely under our command!”
Soon, a specially encrypted transmission was broadcast through every television station, radio frequency, and network base across the city.
“To all participants of the ‘Game of Gods,’ we are the Bureau of Transcendent Affairs of the Longxi Republic.”
“The state is aware of the game’s existence. We do not wish to be your enemies.”
“We solemnly promise that any participant willing to cooperate with the government will receive amnesty, protection, and the most generous compensation.”
“Mr. Zheng Wei has already become our first ally. His family has been provided the best possible care.”
“I repeat…”
……
Yet this broadcast, brimming with “sincerity,” sank like a stone into the sea—without a single response.
In an abandoned subway platform,
Zhang Jie and Yang Li sat around a small campfire, its light flickering across their grim faces.
Before them, a tablet computer played an “officially released” and carefully edited “news report.”
In the report, Liu Gang and Sun Na were branded as “terrorists colluding with foreign powers, attempting to subvert the state.”
The brutal battle of the Transcendents was described as “terrorists detonating pre-planted explosives.”
And finally, “thanks to the valiant sacrifice of the people’s soldiers, the terrorists were annihilated on the spot, and a major crisis was averted.”
“Heh, annihilated?”
Zhang Jie glared at the screen’s pompous words, then slammed his fist into the wall behind him with a dull thud.
“They murdered Liu Gang and Sun Na, labeled them terrorists—and now they expect us to become their dogs too?”
His eyes burned with disdain and fury.
Yang Li calmly switched off the report and analyzed coldly, “The authorities can’t be trusted. But Zheng Wei’s surrender is a fact. We’re completely exposed to them now.”
A sharp gleam flashed in Yang Li’s eyes. “Right now, the authorities are desperate to locate and control all Transcendents—especially those from the 【Shadow】 faction, who pose the greatest threat to them.”
“And we want revenge for Liu Gang and Sun Na.”
“We share a common enemy.”
She looked up at Zhang Jie. “If the 【Shadow】 faction can use the authorities against us, we can do the same.”
“You mean—?” Zhang Jie immediately caught her implication.
Yang Li slid a laptop with a micro-camera attached toward him.
“These are all the intelligence files I’ve gathered over the past few days—on those Transcendents who use puppets.”
The screen began to play a chilling video.
The perspective was very low—apparently from a rat’s point of view.
The camera darted through a dark, damp sewer, finally emerging from an inconspicuous drain pipe into a dimly lit basement.
Inside, a pale man in a white lab coat sat before an operating table, using deft, elegant hands to install a glass eyeball into a crow.
His movements were precise, graceful—and disturbingly eerie.
“From my observations, every action of this puppet-controlling Transcendent is carried out through these ‘puppets,’ which are fused from flesh and machinery.”
“These puppets emit a faint aura of ‘death.’ Ordinary people can’t sense it, but animals can clearly distinguish it.”
“And the man himself is extremely cautious—he’s never once left his lair.”
Yang Li spread a hand-drawn map on the floor and pointed to a marked spot.
“This is the location I pinpointed by tracking his puppets.”
“Now,”
She lifted her head and locked eyes with Zhang Jie, her gaze sharp as a blade.
“We’re going to give his location to the authorities.”