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

"There is no precedent in the entire U.S. federal judicial system to tell judges how to handle a supernatural object. There are no laws, no precedents, no administrative regulations, and not even a relevant judicial interpretation."

Evelyn's voice carried a hint of emotion he rarely heard from this woman, a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"We will be the first."

John took the coin off his lap and placed it in his palm. The dark bronze surface was slightly warm, and its weight was no different from when he first found it in the subway station.

He clenched his fist, then loosened it.

"Then let's be the first."

Evelyn was silent for two seconds on the other end of the phone.

"Okay, I'll write out the framework of my argument tonight and give it to you for review before noon tomorrow. Don't tell anyone about it. Keep that ancient Roman bronze coin safe and don't let anyone else see it."

"understood."

"Also, don't bring your own coin into court."

Why?

"Because the last time you walked into Morgan Stanley with it, $640 billion disappeared, and I don't want to see the judge's chair disappear when you walk into federal court with it."

John couldn't help but laugh out loud; this was the first time he had laughed in the federal courthouse since he was indicted.

"I'm hanging up, John. I have work to do."

The phone was disconnected.

John wrapped the ancient Roman bronze coin back in the cotton cloth and stuffed it into a plastic bag, then put it in a separate pocket from his own coins. He stood up and walked toward the hearing room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the corridor, the Manhattan skyline was cut into geometric blocks of light and shadow by the afternoon sun, and the light spots reflected from the glass curtain wall covered the floor.

He put his hand into his pocket full of coins, his thumb tracing the patterns on the columns of the Parthenon reliefs.

The warm copper surface pressed against his fingertips, like an old coin that had been warmed by hand.

But the newly added symbols are still there.

The coin from two thousand years ago and the one in his pocket are separated by the rise and fall of the entire Roman Empire, the darkness of the Middle Ages and the light of the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution and two world wars, and the trillions of bits of data flowing through undersea fiber optic cables every second in the digital age.

But the words engraved on it have not changed.

It was late that night, at 11:47 PM.

Evelyn Chen's work email popped up with a new message.

The sender's signature made her finger hover over the mouse for three seconds.

"Arthur Griffin's legal representative."

She opened the email, which contained only three paragraphs.

The first paragraph, consisting of six lines, introduces the basic situation and legal predicament of Arthur Griffin, the holder of the sword in the stone in London, including the stalemate caused by the British government's refusal to release financial crime files, and the legal gray area created by the force field's fourteen-day blockade of London.

The second paragraph introduces a concept.

"Legal Collaboration Network for Artifact Holders"

There is only one question in the third paragraph.

"Would you be willing to join on behalf of John Nunez Cruz?"

Evelyn stared at the screen for three minutes.

The fluorescent lights in the law firm's overtime room emitted a continuous low-frequency hum overhead. The liquid in the coffee cup had long since gone cold, and the draft of Morgan Stanley's rebuttal statement spread out on the table was pushed aside by her.

She encrypted and backed up the emails to an offline hard drive.

Then the original document in the email was deleted.

Before turning off the screen, her gaze lingered on that concept for an extra second.

Legal collaboration network for artifact holders.

There are six conceptual weapons in the world, six owners, scattered in six countries, and facing six completely different legal systems.

There are no precedents, no legal provisions, and no case law.

If you're going to do something, every step is the first step.

She closed the laptop lid, plunging the overtime room into darkness, with only the green indicator light of the emergency exit at the end of the corridor casting a small patch of light on the floor.

........

The Tanyuan entered the berth of the Sanya naval port at 4:17 a.m.

All the streetlights on the dock were turned off, with only the berth guide lights casting two narrow beams of white light that illuminated the gray paint on the sides of the warships.

Three black bulletproof SUVs were lined up in a row, their engines still running, and the white steam coming out of their exhaust pipes drifted half a foot into the tropical early morning air before dissipating.

A platoon of thirty-two Marines stood in formation on the shore, all wearing red security armbands, their guns pointed downwards, eyes fixed ahead, even their breathing rhythm seemed to have been uniformly calibrated.

The sound of the gangway being lowered echoed for two seconds on the empty dock.

Chen Jianguo disembarked first. The moment his leather shoes touched the cement ground, he habitually glanced at the surveillance cameras at the four corners of the dock to make sure they were all turned off.

Mirror One followed him for the third step, stepping barefoot onto the gangway. The hem of his black trench coat was still seeping water, leaving a trail of dark footprints on the iron steps.

A major general strode over from the direction of the convoy, saluted, took an encrypted tablet terminal from his briefcase, and handed it to Chen Jianguo with both hands.

"Director Chen, the leader wants to speak directly with him. Answer now."

Chen Jianguo took the tablet and handed it to Mirror One.

"You take it yourself."

Mirror One caught the tablet with both hands, wiping away a drop of seawater that had gotten on the screen with its thumb.

The screen lit up.

The scene depicts a study with soft lighting, and the background features a bookshelf filled with ancient thread-bound books.

An elderly man sat behind a desk, dressed casually, with gray hair that was neatly combed. His eyes behind his glasses were so clear that they seemed to have a higher resolution than the lens itself.

Mirror One recognized him.

Number 000.

The lifetime chairman of the Ninth Bureau's Special Advisory Committee—this designation is held by only one person in the entire system, and his presence is practically nonexistent in normal times because he only appears under one specific circumstance.

The most extreme kind.

The old man stared at Mirror One for five seconds without saying a word.

In those five seconds, Mirror One could feel the other person's gaze sweep from the contours of his face to the lines of his shoulders, then to his bare feet standing on the concrete ground, and finally resting on the three steps between him and Chen Jianguo.

A silent, complete assessment.

Then the old man spoke, his tone calm, but each word was clearly articulated.

"Xiao Jiang, I've been watching your live streams all along."

Mirror One's fingers tightened slightly at the edge of the tablet.

"I watched every single one of them, from Jiangcheng Square to Tokyo Bay."

The old man took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with the corner of his clothes, a gesture that made him look no different from any other retired senior.

He put his glasses back on his nose, his gaze passing through the lenses and the camera to land on Mirror One's face.

"Today I won't ask how much your abilities have improved, nor what you've experienced underwater."

"Just one question."

He paused for a moment.

"Are you still that young man who held up his phone and shouted 'Let the ravens fly!' in the central square of Jiangcheng City?"