Chapter 41

"They are doomed! For they have taken the way of Cain; they have rushed for profit into Balaam’s error; they have been destroyed in Korah’s rebellion." — Jude 1:11

By late June, southern China had already entered the rainy season. The downpour hastened dusk and stirred up heat from the ground. The Major Crime Unit's standing AC unit labored to blow cold air as everyone stared at the letter from the devil Mephisto on the table, their minds roughly forming a plan.

"Let's interrogate him," Fang Puxin patted Zhao Yang on the shoulder.

"Do you know what this is?" Under the harsh, cold light of the interrogation room, Zhao Yang, clad in his police uniform, held up a small sealed plastic bag, his face a cold mask as he demanded an answer.

zhang lian, a beta with his hands and feet tightly cuffed to the chair, looked utterly drained. His bloated body slumped heavily after enduring a full day and night of questioning by police from both sides, leaving him mentally and physically exhausted. He wheezed before finally whispering, "Glory."

"What is Glory?"

"A stimulant."

"Think carefully before you answer! What is Glory?"

The stern faces and icy rebukes of the three officers shattered the last remnants of the moocher’s psychological defenses. Trembling like a leaf, he corrected himself, "D-dope."

"So you know it’s dope! Why do you and Tian Wanghai have Glory? You’d better come clean—right now, the two of you are the main perpetrators in the first domestic drug trafficking case involving Glory!" Zhao Yang’s frosty tone and the implicit threat in his words made zhang lian tremble like a leaf.

"It wasn’t us who bought it! It’s not mine! I didn’t traffic dope—I didn’t spend a single cent! This... this is..." The flesh on zhang lian’s cheeks trembled. He was more terrified than every suspect in the 523 case so far. The mere mention of "drug trafficking" terrified him beyond measure. Even someone as detached from reality as him knew how ruthlessly China cracked down on narcotics.

Finally, after stammering for what felt like an eternity, the unemployed beta shakily uttered the most crucial testimony of the night:

"It was a gift."

"A gift from Mephisto."

Everyone in the interrogation room and the monitoring room were stunned into silence. But soon, they realized that Zhang Lian, Tian Wanghai, and even Li Jiayu were merely the beginning of a far darker and more expansive story.

Xu Changying’s initial analysis had been correct. Among the four individuals identified from the art exhibition’s surveillance footage, Zhang Lian and Tian Wanghai hadn’t coincidentally viewed all five living statues. Long before the exhibition began, they had already received a "preview."

Zhang Lian came from an urban middle-class family. His parents ran a small furniture factory in another city, enabling him to live off them after failing the college entrance exam. Short, overweight, and a beta, he rarely interacted with others in the real world. Aside from immersing himself in anime and video games, he spent most of his time lurking on shady websites, scouring for pornographic, violent, and even gory content.

In late April, on a pornographic gaming forum he frequented, someone posted about an upcoming art exhibition in May featuring "living figurines."

The post was graphically detailed, sparking both skepticism and eager believers among users. Intrigued and aroused, Zhang Lian joined the discussion, leaving numerous comments. Eventually, the original poster—who had likely intended only to flaunt their insider knowledge—succumbed to the crowd’s goading and disclosed details about the exhibition, including the serial numbers of the "living exhibits." The forum’s overseas server and niche user base probably made them overly confident.

Zhang Lian hadn’t fully believed the claims. The forum was a playground for thrill-seekers chasing extreme thrills, filled with exaggerated or outright fabricated fantasies. But since the exhibition was in Guangzhou, he looked it up online and found that the exhibits hadn’t been announced yet. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, he bought a ticket and visited in mid-May.

Following the poster’s information, he indeed found the five "living exhibits." As a figurine and model enthusiast, Zhang Lian stood before the displays, and the longer he stared, the more a twisted fascination stirred within him—he couldn’t deny the horrifying possibility that these life-sized statues might contain actual living people.

The naked, contorted limbs and agonized expressions of the female figures deeply aroused his twisted voyeuristic urges, filling him with sick pleasure. He spent the entire afternoon in the exhibition hall. Upon returning home, he hurried back online, desperate to confirm his terrifying yet thrilling suspicion. But the post had already been deleted. No matter how he searched online, he found no trace of it. Partly believing, partly skeptical, he resumed his usual routine.

It wasn’t until the 523 "living artwork" case exploded across the news that Zhang Lian realized the post had been real. But as the case gained traction, the internet became flooded with conspiracy theories and sensationalist rumors, obscuring the truth and frustrating his attempts to uncover more. Eventually, he gave up, settling for spreading exaggerated fabrications across various platforms.

Then, just last week, he was suddenly summoned by the police. Assuming they’d discovered the forum post, he was surprised to find they knew nothing about it. As he left the station, he spotted Tian Wanghai, who had also just been released.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, Zhang Lian realized Tian Wanghai might have been the original poster. That night, on the same forum, Zhang Lian tentatively hinted that he was the one questioned by police earlier. Tian Wanghai bit, and the two established contact—completely evading the authorities’ surveillance.

Hearing this, Zhang Xiaoyu, an alpha officer from Criminal Investigation Unit 2 assigned to monitor Zhang Lian, muttered a curse under his breath in the monitoring room.

In the dim lighting, Xu Changying sat in his chair, headphones on, listening to Zhang Lian’s testimony. Xia Qing stood behind him, his hand resting lightly on the back of the chair. Xu Changying glanced up and noticed a small red ink stain on the inside of Xia Qing’s slender fingers.

*Damn it, did he grade papers during class today?* The thought sent a pang of regret through Xu Changying’s heart. *What a waste.*

His moment of distraction passed as Zhao Yang in the interrogation room began pressing Zhang Lian about how he and Tian Wanghai had received the Glory. Xu Changying quickly refocused. Tian Wanghai’s background was a tier above Zhang Lian’s. A local with a family-owned clothing brand, he was a genuine trust fund baby.

However, Tian Wanghai was the kind of privileged young man who was better off than some but outshone in his own circle—hardly a standout figure. His *gaokao* scores probably weren’t much higher than Zhang Lian’s, but he managed to attend a decently ranked art college in the U.S. for his undergraduate degree. After barely scraping through graduation, he idled for two years before applying for a master’s program at a domestic art academy.

According to Zhang Lian, Tian Wanghai scorned the wealthier and younger heirs in his social circle, so like Zhang Lian, he enjoyed trolling online.

What Tian Wanghai took the most pride in was being introduced to a "mysterious organization" by a Chinese-American trust fund kid during his time abroad. Under Zhang Lian’s envious flattery, Tian Wanghai continued to boast, claiming this organization was even more exclusive and prestigious than the highest-tier clubs in British high society. Its members were said to be among the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world, capable of fulfilling every human desire imaginable—but each member had to swear absolute loyalty. Betrayal would result in brutal punishment, regardless of one’s status or background.

The more Tian Wanghai bragged, the more Zhang Lian itched to join. As their conversations deepened, their relationship grew closer, and Tian Wanghai even showed off more "inside information" about the organization.

At this point, Zhang Lian hesitated, saying it was just two or three videos containing religiously themed gory porn—but he refused to describe them further.

Shao Qiaoqiao and Benjamin had already taken over hacking into Zhang Lian’s computer accounts, retrieving their chat logs from a foreign chatroom based on IP records.

The moment the video played, Tan Song, who had been leaning in to watch, gagged and vomited. Qi Feng shrieked, "Is that intestines?!" while Fang Puxin, ghost-white with rage, snapped, "Turn it off! Send it straight to the IT department for analysis!"

Hearing the commotion through his earpiece, Zhao Yang sighed and closed his eyes briefly before refocusing on the interrogation.

After watching these videos and hearing Tian Wanghai’s boasts, Zhang Lian became even more desperate to join the "organization." He begged Tian Wanghai to introduce him, but Tian Wanghai initially refused, continuing to flaunt his connections instead.

It wasn’t until three days later that Tian Wanghai relented, telling Zhang Lian there was a way—but since Zhang Lian was a *Beta*, it would be more complicated. The organization’s doctrine was to serve "pure-blooded" secondary genders, aiming to create a more evolved human society. Therefore, Zhang Lian would not only have to pose as an *Alpha* but also pay a $30k membership fee.

Hearing this, Benjamin in the monitoring room couldn’t help but interject, "This is just a classic overseas pyramid scheme with cult-like tendencies!"

Qi Feng and the others agreed. Fang Puxin shook his head. "Three years ago, we dealt with a Thai extremist gender cult that also lured and brainwashed members with power and sexual incentives. By the time the international community caught on, it had already spread across Southeast Asia. It took a joint crackdown by multiple countries’ police forces to eradicate it."

Li Jiali nodded. "I remember that case. In fact, when the 523 case first started, Xu even had us review the files on that Thai cult." As she spoke, she noticed that the usually talkative Xu Zhangying had remained silent. Puzzled, she turned to look at him.

Her young superior sat quietly before the surveillance screen, his sharp features half-hidden in shadow, lost in thought.

Zhang Lian continued his testimony. As a moocher, coming up with $30k was no easy feat. He lied to his parents, claiming he was investing in a storefront with a friend, and they transferred him 100,000 RMB. At this point, Tian Wanghai offered to cover the remaining half of the membership fee—but on the condition that if Zhang Lian successfully joined, he would have to split the "gift" from the organization with him.

That "gift" was *Glory*.

Even now, none of the investigators fully believed this claim. After all, *Glory* was already scarce in the underground markets of Europe and America, with just 5 grams now fetching up to $10,000. In a country with such strict anti-drug laws, the true value of those five small "stamps" was unimaginable.

Seeing Tian Wanghai put up the actual cash, Zhang Lian’s resolve to join the "mysterious organization" hardened. After planning together, Zhang Lian stole the ID of a close *Alpha* cousin and used his identity to register a new account at a cheap internet café in Osaka, Japan.

"Internet café? Registration?" Zhao Yang immediately sensed something amiss. He snapped his head up and barked, "That 'mysterious organization' is a dark web platform?!"

A stunned silence gripped both the interrogation room and the monitoring room. Under the harsh lights, Zhang Lian trembled and nodded frantically, explaining that under Tian Wanghai’s guidance, he first transferred the money to a Swiss bank-backed cryptocurrency site, converting it into virtual coins. This site was unique—once the virtual coin amount was confirmed, the funds automatically purchased an NFT (Non-Fungible Token), essentially exchanging real money for a virtual digital artwork.

The digital certificate of this artwork was a 24-hour valid special IP address, granting direct access to the organization’s server.

Everyone got chills. If Zhang Lian was telling the truth, this dark web’s entry point was constantly shifting in real-time—its complexity far surpassing any known criminal dark web on record.

"Wait," Li Jiali suddenly spoke up, realization dawning on her face. "If what he’s saying is true, then that $30k wasn’t a membership fee—it was a one-time admission ticket?"

A dark web platform that cost over 200,000 RMB just to log into once—could it really sustain itself? Everyone got chills again. If this dark web truly existed and operated long-term, what kind of terrifying scale were they dealing with? And what kind of people made up its user base?

"Wow, I really didn’t expect,"

The tense silence was broken as Xu Zhangying’s voice oozed envy, "Li Jiayu and the others were actually this rich."

The blatant jealousy in his tone somehow dispelled the grim atmosphere hanging over the room.

Both the Major Crime Unit and Criminal Investigation Unit 2 were momentarily stunned—only Qi Feng was instantly swept up in Xu Zhangying’s resentment toward the wealthy. "Li Xuyin made Li Jiayu sound so pitiful that day, but this bastard spends 200,000 a day just on internet?!"

Shao Qiaoqiao, who had been typing away at her computer, looked up weakly. "That’s two years of my full attendance salary, including deducted social security..."

With Yan Jianbai currently interrogating Tian Wanghai, the acting supervisor in the monitoring room was the gruff but softhearted Fang Puxin. Rubbing his temples, he sighed, "This isn't the time! We need to get more details about this website!"

"So, you successfully registered?" Song Yuli, sitting behind Zhao Yang, asked coldly.

Zhang Lian nodded. According to his description, the website required extremely detailed personal information during registration. Fortunately, Tian Wanghai had prepared everything in advance, so he managed to register without major issues. However, because he had paid too little in "city taxes," his identity remained at the lowest level—civilian—granting him minimal permissions and benefits.

The moment the word "city" was mentioned, Xu Zhangying's face changed drastically. It felt as if his blood had frozen in his veins, his senses and hearing fading. It took him an unknown amount of time before he faintly heard Zhao Yang's voice through the earpiece—"What city?"

"I was too panicked at the time. In a daze, I barely understood most of it when selecting the device model for access and set the language to English. Tian Wanghai later explained it to me. 'The city' refers to the website. Members of the organization are considered new humans of a new world, gathering in the City of God to further their doctrine of human evolution.

I remember Tian Wanghai saying they all call this website—no, this city—the City of David."

Summer, 2007.

Amid the shrill screech of brakes, people inside the subway car screamed and tumbled to the ground. Yet, the sudden violent inertia did nothing to alleviate the boy’s choking struggle—his neck was still pinned under the thick-soled military boot, emitting a terrifying creak only he could hear. He could even see the office worker who had fallen three meters away locking eyes with him before scrambling back in terror, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

His nostrils were filled with the stench of blood and the chaotic mix of pheromones unique to the enclosed train car. Even as the crushing force on his spine intensified, his alpha instincts forced his brain to analyze the emotions conveyed by those pheromones.

Fear. Cowardice. Shock. Grief. All of it foul.

His acute sensitivity to pheromones told him that within this 10-meter space, no one would intervene to change his fate—death in half a minute. The moment this realization surfaced, the boy felt despair for the first time in his life.

In those brief three seconds, terrifying crimson veins spread across the dying boy's eyes. Amid the drowning sensation of death, the grown man about to snap his spine chuckled mockingly and whispered in his ear with a tone of pity,

*"Se suponía que eras un ciudadano de la ciudad santa de David."* *You were supposed to be a citizen of the holy City of David.*