A group of top scientists came in high spirits and left utterly dejected.
The conversation with Lin Xiaohe hit them like a meteor strike, leaving them dazed and disoriented.
Even after they got back to the base, they still hadn’t snapped out of it.
“Lin Xiaohe said she’s seen aliens. Could this technology be alien tech?”
“I don’t know! I really don’t know—I’m just a physicist! My god, Lin Xiaohe actually said that if Blue Star doesn’t want to go the tech development route, it could choose the cultivation route instead.”
A researcher grabbed his colleague by the shoulders and shook him frantically, completely falling apart: “Isn’t that stuff only supposed to exist in novels?! Weren’t all those immortal records in history supposed to be fiction?! Cultivation? Flying on swords?! How do you even cultivate? Newton’s coffin lid won’t stay shut anymore.”
“Don’t ask me—I’m already shattered.” His colleague, still being shaken, looked equally dead inside.
He had once been a staunch atheist! Very staunch. Extremely staunch.
But Lin Xiaohe actually said humans really do have souls. To some extent, ghosts exist.
Holy crap! Is that right? Huh? Is that right?!
A tiny little discussion meeting—just one hour long—had completely shattered the minds of the researchers who attended. They couldn’t even pick up the pieces.
That day, countless projects ground to a halt. The entire base was shrouded in a thick, heavy gloom, the atmosphere so oppressive it could scare someone to death.
Colonel Yan, who was in charge of base security, rested his hand on the internal phone line, his face alternating between pale and flushed, his eyes full of conflict.
Those precious, treasure-like scientists had gone out once and come back with their souls flown away.
Even Old Yuan was like that—refusing to eat, shutting himself alone in his room, unwilling to see anyone.
Should he report this to the higher-ups? Or would that be making a mountain out of a molehill?
After hesitating again and again, Colonel Yan finally dialed the internal line and voiced his suspicion: “Could this be a cognitive warfare operation targeting our country’s top scholars?”
Using super research results with the appearance of authenticity to gain the recognition of our top scientists, then using bizarre arguments to destroy their cognitive frameworks—indirectly limiting how far our country’s science and technology can develop.
If Lin Xiaohe’s words got out, it would be like dropping a nuclear bomb on the young scholar community. That would cut off the future of our country’s scientific research.
At the very least, within thirty years, this whole wave of new and old scientists would be wiped out.
Looked at that way, for the Beautiful Country, trading something like a railgun for the scientific future of its biggest deterrent nation—that’s a pretty good deal!
This suspicion put the higher-ups on alert.
The way nations deal with each other is pretty much always like this—peaceful and friendly on the surface, endless schemes behind the scenes.
The Beautiful Country is very good at this, especially when it comes to public opinion. They’ve stirred up plenty of trouble on Huaxia’s internet.
They’d suffered losses to Huaxia militarily before, so they found another way—evolving from the earliest propaganda warfare into the current stage of cognitive warfare, and they’ve already built a complete system.
For example, things the Beautiful Country doesn’t have but we do get portrayed as nothing anyone cares about. If it’s the other way around, then it’s a beacon of civilization.
Anything that praises Huaxia or reports on the Beautiful Country’s flaws gets labeled as “pinko” or “wolf warrior.”
Given the Beautiful Country’s way of doing things, it really wouldn’t be surprising at all if they pulled something like this.
The higher-ups paid extreme attention to this matter. They not only sent a new batch of researchers but also dispatched a massive joint team.
The joint team included top psychologists, social behavior researchers, history experts, representatives of Buddhism and Taoism, theologians, archaeology experts, and more.
The team was large in number, massive in scale, and covered a wide range of fields. They even brought in retired researchers from certain former bureaus.
Their mission this time was simple. The ultimate goal was just one thing: should they believe Lin Xiaohe or not!
…
The people of C City noticed there were a lot more traffic police and special police on the streets.
In shopping malls, if a fight broke out, police would arrive on the scene in under five minutes.
They no longer mediated on the spot—they just took both parties away. Clean and efficient, leaving the onlookers with nothing but a dashing silhouette.
“Is some big shot coming to our C City?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t get any notice from above.”
For a while, all sorts of rumors flew around C City.
They guessed at all kinds of possibilities, but never once guessed that C City was intensively running round after round of meetings that could very well change all of Huaxia—or even the course of humanity.
At the base, the Buddhist and Taoist representatives were the first to submit their recommendations.
The Buddhist representative had a kind face and an expression as calm as an ancient well, but the prayer beads spinning rapidly in his hand betrayed his unsettled state of mind.
“Benefactor Lin should be trustworthy. She helped me sense a faint power within my body.”
The good news was that Lin Xiaohe had come to tell him his Buddhist cultivation was profound and that he had an excellent chance of embarking on the path of cultivation.
The bad news was that Lin Xiaohe had told him with absolute certainty that there was no reincarnation on Blue Star, and there was no Ninth Heaven in space either.
The Taoist representative really wanted to give a carefree answer, but he looked like a frostbitten eggplant—completely wilted.
He smiled bitterly and said: “This poor Taoist’s cultivation is insufficient. You’ve all seen something embarrassing. I believe Lin Xiaohe.”
He gave no reason—just one word: believe!
The psychologists watched the recording of the discussion meeting over and over, analyzing Lin Xiaohe’s micro-expressions and movements frame by frame. After pulling four or five all-nighters, they came to a conclusion, sporting panda eyes.
“From Lin Xiaohe’s behavior, she isn’t lying. Her attitude is completely certain, with no trace of guilt or nervousness.”
Colonel Yan pressed further: “Is it possible she’s faking it?”
The psychologists exchanged glances and nodded: “It’s possible she genuinely believes it herself—she’s fooled even herself. It’s also possible she’s a psychological master with an extremely powerful mental core and psychological fortitude, and she has such refined control over her body that she can suppress all her micro-expressions for extended periods.”
Like an actor who can perform different personalities in a short time. But Lin Xiaohe isn’t like that—she’s consistent in daily life and in conversation.
If she were acting, that would only mean her acting skills surpass every best actress in the world.
Colonel Yan could hear the psychologists’ inclination. They didn’t think such an incredible actress existed in the world.
The newly arrived scientists only had the technical documents Lin Xiaohe had provided. They hadn’t been exposed to the content of the discussion meeting.
Their state was exactly the same as the first batch of scientists—submerged in an ocean of technical documents, unable to pull themselves out.
After they finished reading, every single one of them, eyes bloodshot, demanded to see Lin Xiaohe.
“She’s a genius! The technology she provided is at least fifty years ahead of the rest of the world—no, a hundred years!”
“Let me see her. I really want to exchange ideas with her.”
Colonel Yan coldly rejected their requests.
He wasn’t about to throw meat buns at a dog—gone and never coming back.
After receiving feedback from all sides, the higher-ups convened a secret high-level meeting.
