The whole nation: You're put to survive on a desolate planet, you'll be running an alien b

The cafeteria lady came over carrying a small bowl of bright yellow pickled radishes.

She slammed the basin down on the center of the table, the bottom of the basin hitting the tabletop with a loud "bang".

"The pickled vegetables are here! Eat them sparingly!"

The aunt had a loud voice, and after speaking, she turned around and went to tidy up other tables.

Li Haotian picked up his chopsticks, took a slice of radish, put it in his mouth, and chewed it with a crunchy sound.

He raised his eyelids and glanced at the prophet opposite him, who was now as withered as a log.

"Junior, look, your boss doesn't seem to be very popular."

Li Haotian pointed with his chopsticks at the broken phone on the table that was still frantically refreshing messages.

"It seems like everyone is hoping for his death."

The prophet's eyes moved stiffly, landing on the screen.

[Scorpion: Four top-grade crystal cores! I don't care what you think, I'm taking these coordinates today!]

[Blood Scythe: Poison Scorpion, you bitch! You're splitting the organization!]

[Doomsday Preparers: Fight! Fight! I've got my little stool ready!]

[Anonymous_777: Image.jpg]

It's still the same panda emoji, but this time the text below has been changed: "Sold in the front row: sunflower seeds, peanuts, and mineral water."

The prophet felt his breath catch in his throat.

Suddenly, a sharp electrical hiss came from the miniature communicator in his ear.

Immediately afterwards, the bishop's suppressed roar, as if squeezed out from the depths of hell, pierced his eardrums.

"Scrap!"

"You dare!"

"If you dare reveal even a single number! I swear, purgatory will wipe you off at the molecular level!"

The prophet's body trembled violently.

Li Haotian seemed not to hear him; he simply stretched out his finger and gently tapped the cracked phone screen.

He typed out a number.

"3"

Then, he clicked send.

This Arabic numeral appeared all alone in that chaotic chat room.

For a split second, the waterfall of messages scrolling through the chat room stopped.

It was as if time had been paused.

What followed was an even more frenzied outburst.

[Scorpion: !]

[Scorpion: Received! It's number 3! The coordinates start with 3!]

Blood Scythe: You're asking for death!

Ignoring Blood Scythe's powerless rage, Li Haotian faced the screen and, like a streamer interacting with fans, typed another line of text with a grin.

"Thanks for the enthusiasm, 'Scorpion'! The atmosphere's got the party started, let's continue!"

"The top-ranked guy hasn't said anything yet, don't keep him waiting."

"Next sports car, get it running! Second digit of the coordinates, coming right away!"

The prophet stared blankly at the scene.

His brain was no longer able to process the utterly absurd scene before him.

This is far from a top-level game concerning the life and death of a world-class organization.

This is clearly a third-rate internet celebrity who, in the most vulgar way, begs for tips from the top two donors in the live stream.

The so-called auction item was his boss, the "bishop" who made the whole world tremble.

The communicator in the prophet's ear has stopped roaring.

All that remained was a heavy, rapid breathing sound, like the panting of an old bellows.

He could imagine what the bishop looked like in the underground command center thousands of miles away.

"You...you..."

The prophet struggled to move his lips, trying to say something, but found his words utterly inadequate.

"What about me?"

Li Haotian looked up, blinked at him, and looked completely innocent.

"Doing business is all about mutual consent."

"Look, Sister 'Scorpion' is very sincere, unlike your boss, who's so stingy he won't even treat you to a KFC meal."

[Scorpion: Rocket launched! Enough talk! Next number!]

In the chat room, a dazzling golden rocket launch effect actually appeared next to Scorpion's name.

Although the special effects were so crude, like a webpage pop-up, they did appear.

Li Haotian nodded in satisfaction.

"See that, junior?"

"Only the top-ranked player has the right to send rockets."

"Your boss can't even afford a lollipop, and he dares to threaten me?"

He lowered his head and placed his fingers on the virtual keyboard again.

The prophet's pupils contracted sharply.

He knew that if Li Haotian pressed just one more number, everything would be over.

Once the bishop's hideout is exposed, even before the scorpion makes a move, those enemies lurking around the world who have been offended by "Purgatory" will swarm in like sharks smelling blood, tearing the bishop and his base to shreds.

"Stop!"

The prophet mustered all his strength and squeezed out two words from his throat.

At the same time, the communicator in his ear also transmitted the bishop's completely out-of-control roar, filled with endless humiliation and fear.

"Stop!"

"I'll give it to you!"

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you!"

The voice no longer carried the arrogance it once did.

All that's left is the despair of being forced to the edge of a cliff and having no choice but to jump.

Li Haotian's finger, which was about to type the second number, stopped in mid-air.

He looked up at the prophet, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Oh?"

"Has your boss finally come to his senses?"

The prophet's body was still trembling uncontrollably, and he nodded mechanically.

He said... he would give...

"Give what?"

Li Haotian asked the question knowing the answer already.

"Special Grade... Space System... Extraordinary Crystal Core"

The prophet spoke slowly and deliberately, each word as if he had exhausted all his strength.

"You should have said that earlier."

Li Haotian shook his head with a regretful expression and put his phone away.

"You made me make such a big fuss, my voice is almost hoarse from shouting."

He picked up the free soup on the table and took a sip to moisten his throat.

"Alright."

"Now that the top voter has finally agreed to vote, let's end this duel here."

He typed another line of text on his phone screen.

[The host has to end the broadcast now. Thank you for the gifts, everyone. I'll be back another day.]

After sending the message, he immediately left the chat room that had driven the entire underworld into a frenzy.

[Scorpion: ?]

[Doomsday Preparer: Holy crap! Streamer, don't go! I've already taken my pants off and this is what you show me?!]

Blood Scythe: ...

[Anonymous_777: [image.jpg]]

The panda character is still here, and this time the accompanying picture reads: "The streamer has gone offline, family members, let's disperse."

Li Haotian ignored the wailing in the chat room.

He put his phone back in his pocket and looked at the prophet again.

"Alright, junior."

"Now that your boss is willing to pay, we should discuss the specific details of the transaction."

The prophet's nerves, which had just relaxed, tightened up again in an instant.

He had a feeling that things were definitely not that simple.

"What...what else do you want?"

Li Haotian held up one finger.

"First, I need to inspect the crystal cores."

He paused, then extended his second finger.

"Secondly, I don't like waiting for people."

"I'll give you, boss, one hour."

"I want to see my things in Donghai City in an hour."

The prophet was stunned.

"One hour? That's impossible!"

He cried out in disbelief.

"The top-grade crystal cores are stored in the organization's most core secret vault. From extraction to approval, and then activating the highest-level teleportation channel to transport them to Donghai City... it's simply impossible to do that in one hour!"

"That's your problem, not mine."

Li Haotian shrugged indifferently.

"If I can't finish, I'll just keep broadcasting."

"At that time, I won't just reveal the coordinates."

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"I can also give you all of your bishop's embarrassing history from childhood to adulthood, including the embarrassing story of him wetting the bed when he was in the third grade of elementary school."

prophet:"……"

Once again, he felt that deep sense of powerlessness, of being controlled.

There's no reasoning with this madman.

He could only painstakingly relay Li Haotian's request word for word to the bishop on the other end of the communicator.

There was a full half minute of silence on the communicator.

So long that the prophet thought the signal had been cut off.

Finally, the bishop's extremely tired voice slowly rang out.

Tell him it's okay.

"However, I also have one condition."