Fate's Choice: Livestream at the Start Summoning Billions of Ravens

The real world.

The second giant light screen over Tokyo, the land of cherry blossoms, instantly plunged into a deathly darkness as Roosevelt disappeared.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

Those three seconds of silence felt like an eternity to billions of viewers around the world.

Everyone's breath was choked, and their hearts pounded violently against their ribs in their chests.

Although the images had already provided the answer, no one dared to breathe loudly until the final verdict was delivered.

The final winner's name appeared on the screen in the fourth second.

[Second battle, Saber Li Bai wins]

China, Shanghai.

In the dead of night, this most prosperous city in the East erupted with a sound powerful enough to shake the heavens.

At that moment, lights in countless residential areas turned on simultaneously, accompanied by shouts and screams.

Male dormitories in major universities have become the hardest hit areas.

"We won!! Holy crap!! We won!!!"

"Venus is awesome! Li Bai is awesome!!"

"What the hell is this called the foundation of a great nation? This is it! This is it!!"

A shirtless boy rushed onto the balcony, waving a bed sheet he'd ripped off from somewhere, and roared at the top of his lungs, "Who else?! I ask you, who else can withstand a single sword strike from Li Jianxian?!"

Someone in the next building immediately responded: "Is that the state apparatus? It's made of paper! Before this sword, everything in this world is illusory!"

At this moment, there are no rational or objective people, and no analytical experts.

The pent-up frustration from the entire battle was transformed into the purest and most primal sense of national pride the moment Roosevelt, that terrifying golden giant, collapsed.

In stark contrast to the revelry in China, America was on the other side of the ocean.

A deathly silence enveloped Times Square.

Those people, whose faces were still painted with the Stars and Stripes and who were holding up portraits of Roosevelt, were like puppets whose souls had been taken away, staring blankly at the huge black screen.

We lost?

Their legendary president, who could stand up from a wheelchair and even tinker with nuclear bombs and suppress everything, lost to an Easterner who wrote poetry?

"This is impossible...this is not scientific..."

A young white man clutched his head, knelt on the ground, his faith crumbling in that moment: "That was our 'New Deal,' our 'Order'! How could it be destroyed with a single finger..."

An unprecedented sense of panic began to spread among the people of this superpower.

For the first time, they realized that the protective umbrella they had always regarded as having unlimited power could actually break.

……

A mirror world, the ruins of Washington.

Li Bai sheathed his Green Lotus Sword, then walked with slightly unsteady steps to a corner of the ruins.

There, Zhang Ruoxu was leaning against a section of broken wall, panting heavily.

The old Taoist priest's spotless robe was now a beggar's outfit, covered in mud and blood, with a large dent in his chest, indicating that many of his ribs were broken.

"Old Zhang, are you still able to move?"

Li Bai stretched out one hand, his face bearing his usual nonchalant smile.

Zhang Ruoxu raised his eyelids, glanced at his "old friend" who had just been a god in heaven, and forced a smile, revealing a mouthful of bloody teeth.

"This humble Taoist priest... is in excellent health."

The old Taoist priest didn't mince words; he stretched out his withered hand and firmly grasped Li Bai's hand.

Use the leverage to get up.

Although he was wincing in pain, the old Taoist priest straightened his back as straight as a pine tree the moment he stood up.

"This boast is something I can brag about for a hundred years when I return to Longhu Mountain," Zhang Ruoxu said, patting the dust off Li Bai's shoulder with a touch of emotion.

Li Bai chuckled, untied the wine gourd from his waist, shook it, and found that it was indeed completely empty. He couldn't help but sigh regretfully.

The two looked at each other, but there was no tearful celebration of surviving a disaster; instead, there was a tacit understanding and a sense of ease between men and comrades-in-arms.

"You two."

Just then, a hoarse voice came from not far away.

Li Bai and Zhang Ruoxu turned their heads at the same time.

Just a few dozen meters away in a puddle, the black mech that once resembled a steel monster was now nothing but a pile of scrap metal.

Beside the pile of wreckage still sparking with electricity, Evan Cross was trying to stand up.

His exoskeleton armor was completely destroyed, and his specially made combat suit was tattered, revealing the scarred muscles beneath.

This elite soldier from America looked like a dying lone wolf at this moment.

But he is still trying to stand up.

Once, twice.

Finally, on his third attempt, he managed to stand up, albeit unsteadily.

He didn't look at Li Bai, nor at Zhang Ruoxu, but turned around and faced the void where Roosevelt had just disappeared.

Those were his followers.

He is his president.

It is also the embodiment of the ideal country to which he once swore allegiance.

Evan Cross took a deep breath, ignoring the excruciating pain from his broken bones, and abruptly brought his legs together.

Snapped!

Even without military boots, the sound of footsteps was still crisp and powerful.

He raised his right hand, which was covered in blood and oil, his five fingers together, the fingertips slightly touching his eyebrows, and gave a standard military salute to the empty void.

The action is frozen in time.

At this moment, he was no longer a Master, nor a loser.

He was just a soldier.

At the moment the ceremony concluded, Evan Cross slowly lowered his hand.

He turned around, his gaze passing over the ruins to look at Li Bai and Zhang Ruoxu standing there.

The murderous intent that once fueled the relentless pursuit of victory in battle has vanished.

Instead, there is a complex yet pure look in their eyes, an acknowledgment of the strong and a sense of relief at a certain belief.

"Well played."

Evan's voice was very soft, and it sounded slightly slurred due to the injury to his lungs.

He looked at the swordsman in the blue robe, then at the old Taoist priest with broken ribs, and finally, a stiff yet somewhat relieved smile appeared on the tough man's gunpowder-stained face.

He didn't beg for mercy, nor did he utter any harsh words like "I'll be back."

He simply nodded slightly, and with the last bit of strength he had left, straightened his spine.

hum-

A soft white beam of light descended from the sky, enveloping America's defeated opponent.

That's the world's judgment mechanism: if the Master loses the ability to fight, the Servant disappears, and is thus eliminated.

Just as the white light was about to engulf him, Evan closed his eyes.

He did his best.

For the Stars and Stripes in his heart, for the old man in the wheelchair, he shed his last drop of blood.

As for winning or losing... that's a matter for the big shots to worry about, not for the soldiers.

With a flash of light, Evan Cross's figure vanished completely from the ruins of the Mirror World.

……