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

The real world, New York.

A private club on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper.

Unlike the sadness and panic on the streets outside, the air here is filled with the aroma of expensive Cuban cigars and aged whiskey.

In front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, several middle-aged men in suits and with their hair neatly combed were watching the broadcast screen on the wall, which had been turned off.

They are Wall Street giants, the true rulers of this country.

"it's over."

An elderly man with a full head of silver hair gently swirled the crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid forming graceful arcs on the glass. "That damned old man has finally made his exit."

"yes."

A middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses next to him smiled, a smile that was both amused and relieved. "If he really wins... that would be a disaster for us."

Roosevelt.

For ordinary people in America, this name meant redemption and hope.

But for these financial giants, this name represents the Banking Act, the Securities Exchange Act, and the nightmare of a "big government" that puts power in a cage and forces capital to bow down.

If that "Grand Master" truly wins the Holy Grail War and descends into reality with that extraordinary power capable of suppressing everything...

Is Wall Street still their Wall Street?

"Thank God, thank that... poet from the East."

The silver-haired old man turned around, his back to the brightly lit New York night view outside the window.

Behind him, countless American citizens were weeping for their country's defeat, while he raised his glass.

His face wore that reserved and cold smile that belonged only to the victor.

"Whether in mythology or history, heroes who die are the true heroes."

He glanced around at his smiling companions and said softly:

"For the breaking of that cage."

"So that no one can control our tomorrow anymore."

"Gentlemen."

All the glasses were raised at that moment, making a crisp, melodious clinking sound, like gold coins falling to the ground.

"Respect for freedom."

……

Washington, D.C., the White House underground situation room.

Beside the enormous circular conference table, a group of important figures who could usually cause geopolitical upheavals with a stomp of their feet were now like clay sculptures.

The main screen on the wall had gone black. The golden giant, which symbolized America's highest spiritual totem, along with their proud "superpower" dignity, had shattered into dust.

"Mr. President."

The silence was broken by Defense Secretary Mark Thompson.

"Confirmed, Master Evan Cross has been transported out of the Mirror World and is receiving treatment, while Archer Roosevelt has dissipated."

Thompson took a deep breath and uttered the conclusion that left everyone present breathless:

"In other words, in this 'Holy Grail War' that will determine the future of humanity, America... is completely out of the game."

No one refuted it, and no one was even angry.

There was only a deep-seated sense of powerlessness.

If they lose on the physical level, they still have aircraft carriers, nuclear weapons, and economic sanctions.

But in that irrational realm of "concepts," in that dimension where even "legislation" can be easily refuted, they have very few cards to play.

The president slumped in his leather chair, and after a long silence, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice: "Block the news... no, it's too late to block it. Notify the Treasury Department to prepare for tomorrow morning's stock market circuit breaker. Also..."

The president's eyes suddenly turned sinister, the kind of madness a gambler displays after losing all their chips:

"Tell our commander in Tokyo that we must obtain the resources of the Mirror World. Since we can't rely on 'God,' we'll seize them with guns and cannons! That's our last chance to turn the tide!"

……

In stark contrast to the atmosphere of utter despair at the White House, the internet in the Eastern Hemisphere was in complete chaos.

The hashtags #LiBaiBreaksTheFateOfTheNationWithOneFinger#, #ImmortalStrokingMyHead#, and #ICultivateImmortalityInWashingtonD# have dominated the top ten trending topics in an unreasonable manner.

Countless emojis spread like wildfire.

A screenshot of Roosevelt, the golden giant, throwing a punch, captioned: "Only the weak talk about the law."

The next screenshot shows Li Bai pointing with his finger, captioned: "The strong only speak of the will of Heaven."

Even more extreme, some photoshopped Li Bai's final, seemingly insignificant gesture into a nuclear button, captioning it: "I understand the logic, but this is even bigger."

Just as the entire internet was celebrating, an in-depth long article from the "Holy Grail War Fellowship Research Association" was pinned to the top of major platforms, adding a fuel to the fire called "knowledge" to this celebration.

The article's title is highly provocative: "You think the poet has won? No, it's the master of the stars!"

"Many people only see Li Bai's carefree spirit as a 'Sword Immortal of Wine', but they overlook the four characters when his Noble Phantasm is released—[Venus].

"In the Chinese mythological system, Venus, the planet of war, is the god of war in the heavens, and the embodiment of the 'Geng Metal Qi' that governs war and change! At the last moment, Saber Li Bai was no longer a heroic spirit, but had touched the realm of 'gods'!"

"This isn't a war between mortals; it's a devastating blow from Eastern mythology to the rules of Western modern civilization! Our military strength ceiling has been pierced once again!"

This article acted like a shot in the arm, causing the already high national self-confidence to skyrocket, with the comment section filled with "YYDS" and "I'm kneeling in admiration".

……

Mirror World, Tokyo.

Inside a "Warrior" command vehicle modified for nuclear protection at the Chinese base, the latest battle reports from the rear were transmitted through an encrypted channel.

"You won?"

Commander Zhang slapped his thigh, a long-lost smile spreading across his usually stern face. "Good! Good! These cultural types really have something. Even if I led a tank regiment to Washington, I might not achieve this result!"

Although the staff officers and technicians inside the carriage were disciplined and dared not make a loud noise, their eyes were bright and their backs were straight, as if they were the ones who had stuck out that finger.

In the corner, Jiang Mingjing Mirror No. 1 was holding a box of self-heating military rations, pretending to eat rice.

He looked up at the excited crowd, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing an advisory smile that reflected his sentiment: "Although I don't understand warfare, I am proud of my country."

Meanwhile, in America's defense zone, five kilometers away.

The atmosphere here is oppressive and suffocating.

Commander Colonel Smith stared at the newly declassified top-level command in his hand, his face ashen.

"At all costs... secure resources..."

He looked up at the dark, lifeless expanse of Tokyo outside the window.

Without GPS, without satellites, without support, even their morale has collapsed.

"Everyone, listen up!" Smith gritted his teeth, his voice sounding particularly menacing over the radio. "All personnel on high alert! All vehicle engines warmed up! If... if any other country tries to seize our controlled territory, fire at will! Repeat, fire at will!"

Since we've lost both substance and face, let's become beasts in this dark jungle.

……