Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Old Zhou looked down, took out his phone, and discovered that half of the coffee in his hand had been spilled on his shoes. The brown liquid was running down the shoe, but he didn't even feel the heat.

Thirty-second floor.

When Zhang Qiliang landed in the server room, the security guard at the end of the corridor immediately stood up from his chair.

This was a young man in his early thirties, his uniform buttons were neatly fastened, and his name tag was pinned above his left breast pocket.

As he stood up, his knee probably hit the drawer, making a dull thud. Without even looking, he pressed the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.

Upon recognizing the person, the security guard froze.

Zhang Qiliang walked to the door, and the security guard quickly made way for him.

Zhang Qiliang raised his hand, his fingertips resting on the door of the server room, and gently pulled it.

The high-specification security door, which was being blown around so loudly, only lasted for 0.01 seconds before falling to the ground, looking no different from a piece of cardboard.

Zhang Qiliang went inside, took out his phone from his pocket, and found the data interface.

The indicator lights on the server rack flickered in the dark, and the hum of the cooling fans filled the entire room.

(operate)

(Query)

(Feedback)

About fifteen minutes later, Zhang Qiliang put away his phone and walked out of the server room.

The security guard was still standing in the same spot, but in a different posture—leaning against the wall with his hands hanging at his sides, staring blankly at the "Customer First" slogan on the opposite wall.

Upon seeing Zhang Qiliang emerge, his body tensed slightly before relaxing.

"Thanks for your hard work."

Walking to the window, Zhang Qiliang flipped over and landed back on the ground.

Two rows of people were already standing at the entrance of the building.

Suits, shirts, skirt suits, name tags—thirteen men and four women, ranging in age from their early thirties to over fifty, stood in positions that were not particular about, but there was a subtle tacit understanding between them.

Some people had their hands clasped together in front of them, some were holding laptops, and some were clutching their phones with the screens still lit.

Standing at the front was a man in his forties, with a receding hairline, wearing a dark blue suit, and his name tag read "Senior Vice President".

Upon seeing Zhang Qiliang land, his gaze followed him for half a step before settling on him again.

Further away, police tape had been put up on both sides of the street.

The blue and white striped plastic strips swayed slightly in the morning breeze. The fast-track team stood inside the line, their uniforms crisp and their hat brims neatly pressed down.

Several police cars at the intersection were still running, their red and blue lights flashing, casting circles of light onto the glass curtain wall facing the street.

The crowd on the sidewalk was kept behind the cordon, holding their phones high in the air.

No one made a sound.

Only the sound of camera shutters, dense and fragmented, like a flock of birds fluttering their wings on distant branches.

Zhang Qiliang walked to the building entrance.

The seventeen people involuntarily took two steps forward.

The man with the bald head spoke up: "Ming-ge, our company is deeply saddened by the tragedy that occurred in Qingping County... Liang Yan's number..."

“No need to tell me,” Zhang Qiliang waved his hand and gestured with his chin toward the parking space on the left side of the building. “Get in the car.”

There was a bus parked there. It was white, with the three large red characters "Xiao Hongshu" printed on the side, and the English word "REDnote" in black below. The lettering was neat and clean.

Thirty-three minutes later, at Bitan Bridge in Qingping County.

The cart has been moved, but the police tape and police cars are still there.

The dense crowds are still there.

The elderly woman and the young woman were helped to the back seat of a police car at the bridgehead. The car door was open, and the two sat side by side, their eyes vacant as they stared at the river.

Beside them, relatives held their hands, and uniformed people squatted down to hand them water.

The first thing you see is a young man holding up his phone in the middle of the bridge.

He slowly lowered his hand, his mouth was open, and his arm was frozen in mid-air.

The people next to him followed his gaze and were also stunned.

A figure came from the horizon, so fast that it was almost invisible.

Only when they got closer could they make out that a small figure was flying in front, dragging a bus behind it.

The bus was suspended in the cleared area, less than 20 centimeters above the bridge surface, casting a shadow that covered a long stretch of the road.

Zhang Qiliang landed and let go of her hand.

The bus landed steadily on the bridge, its tires making a dull thud as they pressed against the ground.

The car door opened.

Seventeen people came out; some were holding onto the door frame, some were gripping the handrail, some were pale-faced, and some were trembling.

"If you have anything to say, you can say it now." Zhang Qiliang tilted his head towards the middle of the bridge.

Seventeen people stepped forward, walked past the police line and the police car.

The shutter clicked, softer and more fragmented than before.

In the back seat of the police car, the elderly woman and the young woman slowly turned their heads to watch the group of people pass by.

It's unclear what they discussed in the car, but the man with the bald head who was at the front stopped where the cart had been, bent his knees, and knelt down on the bridge. The sixteen people behind him followed suit and knelt down.

The mother and wife's gazes shifted from the direction of the police car, heavy as if pressing down on the entire river.

With modern information technology so readily available, after just over half an hour, almost everyone at both ends of the bridge and on both sides of the riverbank knew what was going on.

Even in cyberspace, only viewers who had just pulled out their phones were still confused:

"These are the people that Ming-ge captured from Xiao Hongshu in Shanghai?"

"Nonsense, can't you see that huge logo on the bus?"

"How did they offend Doflamingo?"

"Didn't see the report from the fast class? Liang Yan's browsing history shows that she has saved several private discussion groups of Xiao Hongshu and a lot of experience exchanges on 'legally killing Nan'."

What does "legal killing of Nan" mean?

"Use legal means to get rid of these meddlesome scoundrels."

"Holy crap! There are such monstrous creatures?"

"Who says otherwise? I just heard about it myself, it's truly an eye-opener."

"Why doesn't the official team delete these discussion groups?"

"Pshaw! The traffic generated by gender antagonism is so high, who would be willing to give it up!"

Aren't they afraid something bad will happen?

"As long as we can meet our KPIs, it doesn't matter if other people's kids die!"

……

The first to speak was, as always, the one with the bald patch at the front: "Auntie, sister-in-law... the tragedy of the hero has partly been caused by our actions. Those groups and those posts have existed for a long time. Whether it's the platform's self-inspection or the guidance of public opinion, we have an undeniable dereliction of duty in supervision."

His forehead pressed against the bridge surface, his voice muffled.

"...Now that things have come to this, we know it's too late...but we will still do everything we can to console you both, even if it's just a fraction of your grief..."

His mother and wife looked at him coldly.

After waiting for two seconds, Zhang Qiliang grabbed Mediterranean by the neck and threw him directly from the bridge into the middle of the river.

"Next person."

Standing next to him was a middle-aged man in his early forties, whose hairline was also receding, reaching the top of his head. His shirt collar was choking his neck, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

After being called upon, he staggered forward a few steps, finally managing to reach the spot where the Mediterranean man had been kneeling. His forehead sank to the bridge surface, and his voice trembled violently: "Auntie, sister-in-law, I'm in charge of the North China region, which includes the capital and the four provinces of Hebei and Shandong. At most, I can also oversee the Northeast. I really have nothing to do with the area south of the Yellow River..."

His mother and wife looked at him coldly.

Zhang Qiliang grabbed Hua Beiqu by the neck and threw him into the river.

"Next person."

The third person was a tall, thin man wearing glasses. His knees were already shaking when he was called on, and his voice trembled as he climbed to his seat: "Auntie, sister-in-law... I'm an algorithm engineer, I deal with machine language all day long, I can't even say ten words a week... I'm just a coder, you two... you know me so well..."

His mother and wife looked at him coldly.

Zhang Qiliang grabbed the algorithm engineer by the neck and threw him into the river.

"Next person."

The fourth position is the financial line.

As she crawled forward, her hands were so weak she almost couldn't support her body. Her voice was thin and urgent: "Auntie, sister-in-law, you two are right... I'm in the finance department, dealing with reports, and I really have nothing to do with the business lines... Those posts, those groups, the approval process never goes through me. As for the recommendation algorithm's weighting, I'm not even qualified to attend the meetings... I'm just an accountant, these trivial matters really have nothing to do with me..."

His mother and wife looked at him coldly.

After waiting for two seconds, Zhang Qiliang grabbed the finance department employee by the neck.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute—" The finance department's voice cracked.

Zhang Qiliang paused for a moment.

The finance department officer quickly took off his coat, ripped off his tie, kicked off his leather shoes, and tripped when his trousers were pulled down to his ankles. He simply kicked them aside and stood on the bridge in his shirt and shorts, looking pitifully at Zhang Qiliang.

Zhang Qiliang remained expressionless.

The finance department staff turned around, walked to the railing, and jumped down.

"Next person."

The fifth bachelor crawled over on his knees and kowtowed deeply: "Auntie, sister-in-law, I will resign now and donate all my property tomorrow... From now on, I will be a volunteer at the nursing home for the rest of my life."

After saying that, the guy stood up, walked to the railing, took off his coat and trousers, and jumped down.

--------

Cyberspace:

"Is the finance department right? What business matters have to do with him?"

"The person who said that probably hasn't worked in a large company before. The finance staff of a small company, or even the lower-level finance staff of a large corporation, might indeed be innocent... But for a company like Xiaohongshu, with a CFO at that level, business approvals, traffic funding, content procurement budgets, the staffing and bonuses of the review team—which one doesn't require his signature? The servers that the recommendation algorithm burns through, the engineers' salaries and bonuses, the marketing department's advertising budget—all of these are approved by the finance department. Without his approval, how could those killer traffic campaigns be launched?"

"There are also quarterly assessments. The business line's KPIs are set with the participation of the finance department, and the assessment standards are reviewed with the participation of the finance department. If traffic increases, daily active users rise, and advertising revenue increases, the business line gets a bonus, and so does the finance department. If they post an extra post, their year-end bonus will jump up online."

"Who the fifth one is? So cool..."

"Liu Zhiyuan, Head of Content Ecosystem at Xiaohongshu..."

Should I send it to 119?

The sixth, the seventh, the eighth, the ninth...

The number of bullet comments on the internet has surged.

This P8, who was just thrown into the middle of the river, has an ordinary position and an ordinary age. The writers of the argument are too lazy to make it up. The only slightly special thing about him is that he is wearing a skirt suit.

"Holy crap, have you guys noticed that the vast majority of the top executives at Xiaohongshu are men?"

"Holy shit! This kind of disgusting and despicable thing is being condoned by a bunch of men?"

"Nonsense! As long as there's money to be made, gender empathy is worthless!"

"Open your eyes and look: at the top of any field, men have an absolute advantage—including boxing! Isn't that infuriating?"

"Fuck you! I'm absolutely furious!"

The tenth, the eleventh, the twelfth...

Something unexpected happened—or rather, an accident finally occurred.

This guy was around thirty-five years old, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his hair was neatly combed, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his wrists, revealing a section of an exquisite watch strap.

His manner of approaching was different from the previous twelve—of course, his posture was very humble and his attitude was extremely sincere, but no matter how you looked at it, he seemed to have a subtle sense of confidence.

Reaching the spot where he had just knelt by the Mediterranean Sea, his gold-rimmed glasses hit the bridge surface, and his forehead touched the ground: "Auntie, sister-in-law, I have stated clearly many times that I demand the rectification of gender-opposing content, especially extreme remarks."

As he spoke, he took out his phone from his pocket, the screen lit up, swiped a few times to bring up a document, and held it above his head.