National Fate: Eight Yin Generals Guard China from Their Sleeping Coffins

The physical transformation brought about by the awakening of the entire population.

Every citizen has deeply felt the benefits of the nation's fortunes returning to them.

The source of this benefit lies entirely in that black wooden coffin.

One topic dominated the charts on all major online forums and short video platforms.

Who exactly was our ancestor?

In the university dormitory, a college student who had just awakened his fire ability didn't bother to examine the flame in his hand. His ten fingers flew across the keyboard as he frantically participated in the discussion.

Elderly people gathered together in the streets and alleys.

The walnuts they were playing with had developed a patina from the vigorous flow of energy and blood.

For the first time ever, professors from the physics and history departments of top universities in China launched a joint live broadcast.

The white-haired professor pointed to the holographic map behind him.

"Judging from the positions of the eight seniors, this is a standard innate Bagua formation."

"Twenty years ago, these eight people appeared simultaneously on the border and at eight extreme points. Connecting these eight points, they exactly cover the 9.6 million square kilometers of territory of China."

"This ancestor used mountains and rivers as the array diagram and his eight disciples as the array's core."

"This is true protection for all people."

The tens of millions of netizens watching the live stream were filled with awe.

A frenzied sentiment spread online.

No official organization or guide is needed.

Fourteen billion people spontaneously posted screenshots of black wooden coffins on their social media profiles.

This is not superstition; it is the highest respect for those who treat their country with the utmost respect.

There was no deification movement, because in their hearts, the person in that coffin was already a deserving god.

Yanjing.

Strategic command center 100 meters underground.

The atmosphere was tense and busy.

The overhead ventilation system delivers pure air that has been purified by the national air transport system.

Zhou Yaoguo stood in front of the large screen with his hands behind his back, staring intently at the eight red dot points on it.

Thanks to the nation's fortunes, this veteran's back became even more upright, and a patch of black hair grew out of his gray hair.

"Old Chen."

Zhou Yaoguo spoke in a deep voice, "Such a master cannot appear out of thin air. He leaves traces wherever he goes. Even if he deliberately conceals it, the process of adopting his eight disciples must have left clues."

Minister Chen stood to the side, holding a strong cup of tea, and nodded emphatically.

"I understand. The whole world is watching, and the 1.4 billion people in China are waiting."

Minister Chen blew on the tea leaves on the water's surface. "This ancestor who planned for the nation's fortune and protected the people from disasters, the nation must find out his identity and place his name at the highest point of the Martyrs' Shrine so that all generations may admire him."

Staff Officer Li strode to the control panel.

He moved with a brisk pace and his movements were swift and decisive.

"Sir! Access to the National Household Registration Management Center's database, the National Security Bureau's encrypted paper archives, local county gazetteers, and village and town archives has all been unlocked."

"Three hundred awakened-level information processing specialists are in place, and the supercomputing center has completed the networking of computing power."

Zhou Yaoguo raised his right hand and gave the order: "Investigate!"

"Locked in from 1999 to 2003."

"Using these eight villages and towns along the border and inland as the center, radiate outwards for 50 kilometers. Check all registration records of migrant workers, temporary residence permit application records, and long-distance bus ticket stubs from the train station!"

The entire command center was instantly filled with the sound of rapid keyboard typing.

This was originally an immeasurable task, like finding a needle in a haystack.

Twenty years ago, much of the data from remote areas was not even digitized.

But at this moment, China has a group of special talents who have benefited from the nation's destiny.

Three hundred IT specialists stared intently at their screens, their pupils reflecting the rapidly scrolling code and scanned documents.

Their level of brain development and the speed at which they grasp retinal information have surpassed the conventional limits of human biology.

The incomplete handwriting was quickly pieced together.

The blurred seal was forcibly restored by computing power.

"drop!"

The third terminal on the left emitted a sharp warning sound.

"Report! Clue found!"

A young specialist wearing glasses suddenly stood up, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he pushed a set of data directly to the central main screen.

It was a yellowed letter from 2001, deep in the mountains of southwestern China.

The edges of the paper were tattered and torn by insects.

"This is a photocopy of the old village chief's diary from back then."

The commissioner quickly reported, "Ma Ling, the corpse-driver, appeared in the village in July 2001."

"The diary mentions that the person who brought the girl with the missing arm to the village was a young man dressed in blue."

Zhou Yaoguo's gaze sharpened, and he shouted, "Investigate further down the line, following the physical characteristics of this young man!"

The home screen suddenly changed.

The terminal on the right connected immediately.

An old household registration record from a police station in a water town in Jiangnan was retrieved in 1999.

"Jiang Chen, the body retriever, registered his household in the winter of 1999. The remarks column of his household registration record shows that he had a companion who provided financial guarantee. This companion was also recorded as dressed in blue."

Clues began to emerge in an explosive burst.

The handmade registration book of the neighborhood committee in the old city of Jinling, where paper craftsman Ji Yuan works.

A handwritten lease agreement for an abandoned building from Guanshan Blacksmith Shop.

Early handwritten application form for the individual business license of Su Qingyi's mortuary sewing shop.

A fragment of the donation book from the Taoist temple where the blind old man lived.

The on-site interrogation record of the beggar, Lao Huazi, when he was refused admission by the shelter.

Staff Officer Li stood in front of the central control console, frantically dragging data across the virtual screen with both hands.

He extracted all eight scattered clues from across the country, spanning thousands of kilometers.

Using the powerful logical analysis ability after awakening, the timeline and spatial coordinates are compared and overlapped.

Red lines extend continuously across the holographic map.

"Commander!"

Staff Officer Li's voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Found it!"

"These eight locations all had individuals exhibiting the same distinctive identity during a specific period twenty years ago!"

He pressed the Enter key forcefully.

A muffled thud.

Eight conspicuous movement trajectories lit up on the holographic map of China.

It stretches from the mountains of southwest China all the way to the water towns of Jiangnan.

It stretches from the old streets of Jinling to the northwestern desert.

These eight lines perfectly match the flow diagram of the Eight Trigrams.

Twenty years ago, that person spent four whole years walking across the mountains and rivers of China, placing his eight disciples at pivotal points in their destinies.

The tracks on the map eventually converged, with all the red lines ending in a remote town in the southern border.

That place is the original site of the Yin-Yang Coffin Shop where Chen Xiao, the eighth disciple, worked.

The man traveled all the way back to the town, had the black wooden coffin made, and lay peacefully inside.

Staff Officer Li's gaze was fixed on a deregistered household registration file at the bottom of the archives.

This file has been automatically classified as an abandoned file by the system because it has been neglected for a long time.

Staff Officer Li held his breath and tapped the electronic page stamped with the invalid official seal.

The yellowed photo section was blank, but in the basic information section, two black Song typeface characters lay quietly there.

Su Chen.

The command center was deathly silent.

The humming sound of the air conditioner seemed incredibly jarring at that moment.

Three hundred specialists stopped what they were doing and looked up at that name.

Su Chen.

An extremely common name.

Among 1.4 billion people, there are countless people with this name.

But placed here, those two words weighed heavily on everyone, making it hard for them to breathe.

This is the person.

He took in eight disciples, set up a great protective formation for the country, and finally put himself in a coffin, waiting for the country to prosper and for the great calamity to come.

"Commander."

Staff Officer Li straightened up.

"It's been investigated."

Zhou Yaoguo slowly straightened up.

He straightened his uniform collar, faced the incomplete file on the big screen, stood at attention, and saluted.

Minister Chen put down his teacup and bowed deeply.

Inside the hall, three hundred officers stood up in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized.

The sound of saluting was deafening.

"Connect to the national broadcasting system."

Zhou Yaoguo lowered his arm, his eyes sharp.

"On all screens, on all channels. Tell this file, this name, to the 1.4 billion people of China."

Staff Officer Li turned around and pressed the red button.

drop.

Full-band signal coverage.

This very second.

Throughout China, the streets and alleys, office building signs, and mobile phone notification pop-ups are all filled with these two words.

The official statement did not include any further praise.

There is only one line of short text on a black background with white text.

[Ninth place in the Chinese competition: Su Chen.]

He has waited for China for twenty years.

When the Chinese people learned this name, they all silently recited it in their hearts.

Then he asked, his voice trembling.

[Su Chen... The ancestor's name is Su Chen!]

He's not a god; he's a living, breathing human being. He has a registered residence and a personnel file; he's one of us Chinese!

[For twenty years, he traveled all over China, using his eight disciples as the core of the formation to protect us, while he himself lay in a dark coffin.]

I will place these four characters on the first page of the family genealogy!

No wonder Brother Chen Xiao refused to leave that coffin even for a moment, even at the cost of his life. Lying inside that coffin is the backbone of all China.

Foreigners are demanding we hand over our genetic technology? Do you even know what inheritance is? Do you even know what Chinese civilization is?!

[Everyone stand! Respectfully seeing off our ancestor upon his return from seclusion!]

As long as the city gates remain standing, we will pray for your well-being every day!

[...]

The barrage of comments swept across various live streaming rooms.

Across the ocean.

Western netizens, seeing the screen filled with the name "Su Chen," were overwhelmed by jealousy and panic, which completely shattered their reason.

[Someone who started planning twenty years ago? Humans cannot predict the future!]

This is a devil's pact! They sold their souls to Satan!

Why was someone like this born in China?! We Americans need Su Chen too!

You cannot keep him to yourself! He holds the secret to the evolution of all humankind; the United Nations must take control of that coffin!

[Boycott China! System, increase the difficulty for them! This is unfair!]

Western politicians sat in luxurious conference rooms, watching the screen show the boiling unity of 1.4 billion Chinese people, their hands and feet turning cold.

The president of the Bald Eagle smashed a wine glass.

"A common name?"

The president roared, "A dead man whose household registration has been cancelled is rubbing our special forces, which cost hundreds of billions to build, into the ground?"

General Smith had his eyes closed and his face was deathly pale.

"We can't stop them."

Smith smiled wryly. "Fourteen billion supermen, plus eight monsters, and an old god-like figure lying in a coffin controlling everything. Even if our fleet sails over there, we'll just be delivering scrap metal to them."