"Influencing public opinion is what I do best." Sandra Yin sat at her bedroom computer, tapping her expensive keyboard now and then to fan the flames, occasionally letting out a cold laugh. "The terrifying thing about public opinion is that nobody cares what the truth actually is."
Some people can only respond with speechless laughter.
But as time passed, falsehoods replaced truth. Countless attacks targeted Finch Huang, condemning her supposed brutality without caring that all she did was kill a Demon.
The online world of Sinovera is vast—every type of person exists here. Especially numerous are those groups skilled at hurling insults and posting abusive language without restraint.
These people are not unintelligent; at the very least, they understand the gravity of a war for survival.
Finch Huang is nothing more than a sacrificial pawn in this storm of public opinion.
They share a common trait: their presence is frequent, but only in the public online world. They believe that since online speech carries no responsibility and costs nothing, why bother with right or wrong, black or white, or even intelligence—just start cursing.
Even though Sinovera has become a major power—
Such situations are still unavoidable; after all, everyone has their own opinions.
And so—
Unimaginably extreme, provocative words, or brazen, unrestrained insults, or outright slander and filth. So many bizarre curses—some venting, some finding it amusing, some blindly following the crowd, and some simply driven by inner malice and darkness.
Malicious words and evil speech are never tinged with the slightest sympathy.
Once they find a target for their venting, they wish nothing more than for the victim to be utterly destroyed. In the dictionary of online violence, morality does not exist.
In truth, cyberbullying exists everywhere in the world, with severity varying from place to place.
Cyberbullying possesses lethal power, regardless of age, gender, profession, or personality. Those who initiate and fuel it care nothing for the truth, only for the thrill of abuse. Even if tragedy results, at most they sigh, brush off their keyboards, and move on to the next victim.
Andrew Han stood with his hands behind his back, next to the sofa.
He looked at his master, Miles Ning, lying on the sofa—alive, but unable to wake, as if trapped in eternal slumber.
As the ancients said—on the tongue lies a Dragon Spring sword, killing without spilling blood!
Hmph.
"Influencing public opinion is what I do best." Sandra Yin sat at her bedroom computer, tapping her expensive keyboard now and then to fan the flames, occasionally letting out a cold laugh. "The terrifying thing about public opinion is that nobody cares what the truth actually is."
To be sure, at first the tone was off, and the spicy faction dominated all sides.
But as time passed, falsehoods replaced truth. Countless attacks targeted Finch Huang, condemning her supposed brutality without caring that all she did was kill a Demon.
Heh.
Sandra Yin sat before her computer, silently sneering.
Finch Huang is nothing more than a sacrificial pawn in this storm of public opinion.
Sandra's true goal was to incite the masses, stir up resistance, and ultimately use the chaos to boost herself—regaining her lost grip on public discourse.
"As things stand,"
"I've already achieved preliminary success." Sandra adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, exhaled, her face brimming with greedy anticipation for the fame and fortune soon to be hers.
The law does not punish the masses, and the powerful are above criminal sanction!
So Sandra Yin wasn't worried at all—even if she failed in the end, at most the authorities would punish her. Compared to the enormous rewards of success, a stint in prison meant nothing at all.
At that very moment—
In the martial training camp of Westlake City—
"Hahaha." Irene Yin, lovely and radiant, sat on the edge of her bed, draped in a luxurious silk robe, her beautiful face filled with satisfaction as she cradled her phone. "Serves you right. You absolutely deserve it."
Few truly understand the terror of cyberbullying.
Perhaps only those who have personally experienced it can know how dark, painful, and indescribably bleak it truly is. No matter how strong your will, even the most resolute heart may falter.
Every curse feels like a knife.
Every insult is as cold as frost.
"That's right, I've looked into it before."
Irene Yin bit her pearly teeth, narrowing her beautiful eyes. "Cases of lives destroyed by cyber attacks exist everywhere, at home and abroad. Some are so severe they drive people to suicide—killing without leaving a trace."
To her, Finch Huang was just another ordinary, mediocre squad member.
So, faced with a terror like a dark tsunami, Finch Huang was bound to collapse in pain and confusion, utterly unable to muster the courage for any direct response—likely never escaping the shadow for the rest of her life.
But then—
Irene Yin paused to consider.
"The force Finch Huang showed in that moment might have rivaled my own." Irene pressed her lips together. "If she has some kind of backing... hmph, it won't matter. Not even a Martial Arts Sect disciple could withstand the onslaught of public opinion."
Thinking this,
Irene felt even happier, wishing Finch Huang would crack under the pressure and, ideally, end it all herself.
Swish.
She stretched out her slender fingers to lift the down comforter, then lay on her bed as if nothing had happened, listening to her roommates' indignant chatter about the incident, a trace of smug coldness flickering across her lovely face.
Finch Huang.
You've gotten yourself into real trouble this time—let's see how you handle it.
Night fell, blanketing the entire city of Riverford.
In the cold winter, the silence deepened; hardly a soul could be seen in the residential complex, and everything was hushed.
"Master."
Andrew Han stood with his hands behind his back, next to the sofa.
He looked at his master, Miles Ning, lying on the sofa—alive, but unable to wake, as if trapped in eternal slumber.
"I've completed the final evolution of my Internal Power."
"Give me a little more time... Once I become the nightmare of Specters, I'll slay the Cedar Colossus and grant you twenty more years of life, Master!" Andrew took a deep breath, emotions surging within him.
The heart-blood of the Cedar Colossus—what a challenge it is to obtain.
This is a top-tier colossus, on par with the Supreme Saints themselves. Even Supreme Zhang would hesitate to claim he could kill it, for wood-type Demons are exceedingly rare and difficult to slay.
No matter how hard it is to kill—so what?
I will find it, and then I will kill it.
He spread his right palm, gazing quietly at its crystal-diamond gleam, then slowly clenched his fist.
At this moment—
The living room was unusually silent.
Only the faint ticking of a brand-new clock on the wall could be heard, along with the quiet sobs of little Finch Huang standing nearby.
"Don't worry."
"Your grandmaster will recover for sure." Andrew Han, deeply gratified, patted Finch Huang's small head.
Sob?
(T_T) ... Did Master Han misunderstand something? Finch Huang stared blankly, her gloomy gaze falling on Grandmaster Miles Ning, and in that instant, sorrow welled up, threatening to overwhelm her.
Sob, sob.
Her tears seemed as vast as the Atlantic, swirling in her eyes before sliding down her cheeks.
If only—
If Grandmaster Miles Ning were here—
Who would dare insult her? Who would dare send her hateful messages? Finch Huang sobbed harder, missing the days when Miles Ning was by her side.
Though life was bitter, full of trials and danger, Miles Ning's upright character never let those around him suffer the slightest injustice. Perhaps this is the kind of charisma most people wish for, but can never truly achieve.