Global Mode
Even though it was the white porcelain statue that had spoken first, when it came to the question, it fell silent for a moment.
The red silk drape hanging at its waist floated up as if lifted by an invisible wind, ethereal and intangible.
Though standing right in front of her, it seemed as if it were a thousand miles away.
Beside her, Yu Li’s face went pale the instant she heard Ying Yan’s words, her ghost-detection radar clanging frantically.
She looked left and right, but couldn’t see the white porcelain statue floating in midair ahead. Carefully, she tugged on her senior’s sleeve and stammered,“Senior… is… is there a ghost?”
Her voice trembled.
Zhuang Ji reached out, pulling his sister close, lowering his voice:“Who are you kissing? Don’t get in the way.”
Hearing the first words, Yu Li was still resistant, thinking, You’re always so scared of centipedes, motionless, how could I trust you to be reliable?
But the next three words made her settle quietly.
The white porcelain statue’s vivid red silk floated precisely onto Ying Yan’s shoulders.
It repressed its smile, leaning its cracked white porcelain face close to Ying Yan’s—no more than five centimeters apart—and said:“Child, answer me: freedom or responsibility—which is more important?”
A chilling cold emanated from its shoulder, as if a millennia-old ice sarcophagus beneath the earth had opened slightly, extending a hand toward the living.
Ying Yan forcibly suppressed the fine, heart-wrapping terror that came from being so close.
She calmed herself as much as possible and contemplated the question from the white porcelain statue.
Freedom and responsibility are not opposed—they are mutually dependent, a dialectical unity.
They are not on opposite sides, competing for a “winner.”
Every person, even at different ages, weighs freedom and responsibility differently.
The key was not her own opinion, but the answer pre-set in the porcelain statue’s mind.
It was like tackling a highly interpretive political-history exam: the test-taker’s true thoughts didn’t matter.
What mattered was analyzing the examiner’s intent and winning at “You write, I guess.”
Yet the white porcelain statue hadn’t even provided the exam prompt, and when it asked, it hid its own bias, looking deeply troubled by the question.
The chance of blindly guessing correctly was only fifty percent.
If the special reward depended on this, the Snow Mountain Cinema might as well close down!
Ying Yan felt a surge of impatience.
Should she take the risk?
Judging by the statue’s demeanor, a wrong answer would almost certainly mean death.
The statue’s pupils contained no reflection of Yu Li or Zhuang Ji.
Optimistically, even if she were killed for a wrong answer, they could still exit the cinema safely.
Thinking this, Ying Yan’s pressure halved.
She recalled the question once more and suddenly paused, thinking of a delaying tactic.
Even if it failed, she could still figure out the original intent.
It was just slightly risky.
“Senior, perhaps you don’t know, but there’s a saying online: ‘Do not judge what you don’t know fully.’ It means that if you don’t understand the full context, you should not offer any opinion.”
“I don’t know the circumstances under which freedom and responsibility must be chosen, so I cannot give you an accurate answer.”
Setting aside the options, this was a third answer—a polite “I don’t know.”
Sweat appeared on her palms as she observed the white porcelain statue’s expression carefully, trying to detect its emotions from subtle details.
With limited information, it was better to gamble than to blindly guess.
After all, the ending for a wrong answer was the same.
The porcelain statue had no bones or muscles, and theoretically couldn’t make expressions.
Its cracked surface was paradoxically smooth; when silent, it resembled an inanimate vase.
—Yet it could smile.
Ying Yan held her breath, waiting in agony.
She had considered “physical persuasion” before.
But when she played the trapped ghost in the telephone, she had already experienced the porcelain statue’s ocean-like power.
At that time, she could only exert a tiny fraction of her strength, so she appeared weak.
The statue, being original, could mobilize almost all of its power.
No, it didn’t need that much.
Even a casual wave could obliterate her.
Even risking her tainted talent wouldn’t help.
About half an hour later, the porcelain statue moved.
The red silk on Ying Yan’s shoulders retracted, and a soft, drifting voice spoke:“I misjudged the situation; thank you for your reminder.”
Before Ying Yan could relax, she felt something cold touch her right hand.
Something was placed in her palm.
“Answer this question after you finish watching Heze Horror. Farewell.”
As the words fell, the white porcelain statue vanished into the air, leaving a blank survey on the ground.
Ying Yan opened her hand and saw a movie ticket printed with gold lettering, inside which was a string of vividly red chicken-blood stone beads.
The cold sensation came from the three polished beads of chicken-blood stone.
Her tense body relaxed. Meeting the worried glances of her companions, she explained,“It’s fine; I just triggered the special reward mechanism.”
The dark blue sky slanted low, sprinkled with twinkling stars that emitted a cold light, like countless open eyes silently watching everything below.
The black sea rippled, covered in colorful foam.
With a pop, the foam burst, and a large school of deep purple fish swam out.
From afar, they resembled fairytale mermaids symbolizing beauty.
Up close, however, one realized they were only roughly humanoid, with nothing “beautiful” about them.
Green, seaweed-like hair draped over hollow, sticky faces. Gray-scaled necks shimmered. Their deep purple tails flicked, splashing black waves.
The school climbed broken reefs, lined up, raised their necks, and sang hoarse, discordant songs.
Above the foam floated a lonely island.
Countless blood-red chains tethered it, stretching endlessly to the distant horizon.
No plants, no animals, no humans—but it was far from desolate.
Lights adorned every corner; the island buzzed with activity.
Multicolored blocks formed little houses for strange creatures moving to and fro.
Chaotic banners stretched between houses, drifting with rainbow balloons.
Twisted lines of text loudly promoted the “Cross-Domain Exchange Center.”
[The great Cross-Domain Exchange Center, bringing you the finest delicacies!][Warmly welcome the domain lords to join!][Provide “butterfly” information, and gain direct entry to the center!]
Initially, the center aimed to promote understanding among different species and worlds.
But by the mid-to-late stages, as generations of managers changed, the original purpose had vanished.
The weird creatures no longer thought about equal exchange; their emaciated brains were filled with signals to “consume!”
When a newly appointed creature, seeking revenge, privately removed “humans” from the list,
a hunting spree called “exchange” erupted.
At this moment, in the central colorful tower of the island, flowing waterfall screens played videos requiring level-10 mosaics.
[#1245]
“Please give me your ticket; I can check it for you quickly.”
A woman in black-and-red uniform extended her hand, smiling politely. Yet hidden on her outfit were smears of dirty mud.
“Oh, okay.”
A girl in a light green dress handed over her ticket without hesitation.
She didn’t notice the shadowy figures waiting to buy tickets vanish silently.
As the black-and-red woman received the ticket, she let out a piercing laugh and vanished into thin air, leaving only:“Goodbye, little girl!”
The ticket was gone.
Instinctively, the girl looked to her companion for help, only to find them equally confused, gripping their ticket tightly.
The cinema doors had already closed, cutting off any escape.
The strange app had no ticket-reissue function.
The girls had no choice but to proceed inside.
At a fork in the path, a bronze toad suddenly extended its long tongue, snatching the girls’ tickets.
Ding—QR code scan complete. Enjoy the movie!
(Note: there are thousands of similar videos.)
[&2200]
Inside the lavish cinema, a dozen or so lights went out simultaneously, and the front screen went dark.
Three to four seconds later, the screen lit up but showed no movie.
Silver lasers radiated outward, forming a grid-like rectangular cube.
The entire room was trapped inside; the four audience members had nowhere to flee. Before they could scream, they were cut to pieces.
Where people had sat, there were only splattered remains. Fresh blood soaked the soft seats.
But soon, with a crackling sound, the seats were spotless again.
Invisible spectators watched at midnight, feeding.
(Note: hundreds of similar videos exist.)
Creatures with dark-blue shells extended countless tentacles, performing extremely complex operations on water screens.
Due to species advantages, this process was compressed into ten minutes.
“Report, leader. Preliminary test complete. Human survival rate down to 10%. Activate Global Mode?”
“Global Mode” was supposed to begin after the roundtable.
But a strange creature appeared, failed to negotiate, and smashed the colorful tower with utter impoliteness.
Moreover, it seized control as the roundtable host, making the collected data grotesque.
From a human perspective, it was outright banditry.
“Did you catch the butterfly?”
“No, but the target is sneaky—a petty creature, nothing to worry about.”
The tentacle creature spoke spittle-flying, unaware of a black butterfly mark on the back of the shell, fluttering with each movement.
Before the leader could scold, it reported the urgent fact:“Most importantly, the joined domain lords are impatient to enjoy the feast.”