On the podium, Feng Ju felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, the color drained from his face, turning as pale as a sheet of paper.
His eyes were fixed on that dense blood mist, as if he wanted to see through the layer of blood to find his daughter’s figure.
Luo Ji’s face was equally grim, looking as if he had lost his first love, praying frantically in his heart:
"Don’t die, don’t die... I haven’t succeeded in bonding yet. Feng Yuhuai, you better not die too quickly!"
Zuo Bai couldn’t sit still any longer. He abruptly stood up and quickly walked toward the stage. His right hand unconsciously rubbed the rim of his glasses, and his fingertips trembled slightly; behind the lenses, his gaze was as cold as if covered with a layer of ice.
He muttered quietly to himself, his voice filled with suppressed anger:
"A bunch of idiots, move gently! I want her alive! If you kill her, I’ll feed you all to E-37 when I get back!"
In front of the TV.
Wang Xiuli sat on the living room sofa, with a broken teacup at her feet, tea splattered all over, soaking her slippers.
Her fingers trembled as she repeatedly dialed her phone, the na "Feng Ju" flashing continuously on the screen.
"Answer the phone, please pick up!"
Her voice carried a sob, almost a plea.
But no one answered on the other end, only the cold "beep, beep" echoed in her ear, like a relentless mockery.
Suddenly, a series of loud booms ca from the TV.
Wang Xiuli jerked her head up, her pupils contracting suddenly—on the screen, her daughter Feng Yuhuai was leaping off the ring, followed closely by seven ferocious monsters.
"Yuhuai—!"
Wang Xiuli’s voice was heart-wrenching.
.....
Inside Zone 9’s Light Prism TV Station.
Director Wei Guangming put on a false smile while hanging up the phone, then coldly looked at the director next to him.
The director shrank his neck and cautiously leaned forward: "Director, should we cut the live broadcast now?"
The director sneered, a sarcastic curve tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he had heard a huge joke:
"Cut the live broadcast? Did you get your head caught in a door? Do you know how high our ratings are now?! Do you know what we are doing? We’re making history!"
His gaze swept toward the top of the screen, where the ratings curve looked like a rocket that had been ignited, soaring straight into the sky, and still climbing.
The director’s face lit up with a pathological excitent, his eyes bulging as if they were about to jump out of their sockets.
"A 17% rating! My God, isn’t that higher than the Martial Arts Joint Examination’s ratings?! This has already exceeded our TV station’s highest historical value by more than double!"
He slapped the table abruptly, and the drink on it jumped, the spilled liquid looking just like the splattered blood on the screen.
The director waved his fist, his voice so excited it almost broke:
"Do you know what this ans? It ans that every second from now on, we’re making history! We’re witnessing Light Prism TV Station’s most glorious mont!
Every second from now on is more precious than gold!"
The director swallowed nervously and whispered: "But Director, people are dying in the ring. If we keep broadcasting like this, wouldn’t it..."
The director impatiently waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying fly:
"Dying? So what if they die?! Do you think the audience is watching for justice and morality?
No! They’re watching for the thrill, the bloodiness, the adrenaline rush! We are fulfilling the market demand, understand?!"
The director grabbed the director by the collar, saying fiercely, almost spitting in his face:
"Those fat-bellied school leaders, instead of thinking about rescuing the students quickly, want to interfere with our TV station’s managent? Who do they think they are?!"
The director fully understood the director’s aning, nodded enthusiastically, his face full of ingratiating smiles.
He quickly turned and shouted to the work team below:
"Why are you standing there?! Hurry up and focus the cara into the pit, closer and closer! The audience wants to see the monsters; we’ll show them monsters! Blood, excitent, let them get their fill!"
A staff mber raised his head awkwardly, his voice timid:
"The cara is a bit far, the blood mist is too thick, we can’t see clearly inside..."
The director roared in anger, the veins in his forehead bulging:
"Where are the drones?! Control the drones to go in! Don’t tell you can’t even handle this!"
"There are only two operational drones left; we can’t get too close, or they’ll be destroyed too..."
"What about the reporters?! Don’t we have people on site?!"
"Reporter Wang and Reporter Li were just crushed by the monster... Reporter Liu and Reporter Ding are running away, about to escape the school..."
The director slamd the table fiercely, his voice almost lifting the roof:
"Tell them to go back and film! As professional reporters, how can they escape?!
Tell them, if they dare to escape, they don’t have to return to the TV station! On the contrary, if they complete today’s filming task, I’ll promote them and give them a raise when they co back!"
He said, then turned to look at the director: "Okay, Director?"
The director nodded with satisfaction, his tone firm:
"Exactly! Two levels up in rank, triple the salary! As long as they can shoot what the audience wants to see, I’ll even award them this year’s ’Golden Microphone.’"
He finished speaking, casually pointing at a few young people in the office, his eyes sharp like knives:
"You, you, you, and you! Go to the scene imdiately to support! Young people must seize this once-in-a-lifeti opportunity! This may be the mont in your life to best showcase your value!"
The young people looked at each other, one timidly speaking, his voice squeezing out from his throat, trembling strongly:
"Director, we... we’re not reporters... we’re post-production editors..."
The director laughed heartily, waving his hand grandly, his tone incredibly bold:
"Perfect, now you are reporters! Rember, opportunities are for those who are prepared, and you are those ’prepared’ people!
Congratulations, you can step from behind the scenes to the forefront!"
He finished speaking, turned, and walked toward the office door, adding as he looked back:
"Oh, bring the cara, don’t let down, I’ll personally celebrate with you when you get back."
The young people stood there, faces flushed red, seemingly too excited to move.
The director saw their expressions and couldn’t help but laugh:
"Don’t be afraid, young people, this is our station valuing you, how many young people outside are envious of you, you must not disappoint the expectations the director has placed on you."
He finished, adding earnestly, as if imparting so workplace wisdom:
"Don’t keep a stern face, smile! When you go to the school later, rember it’s a live broadcast, although you’re filming others, you’ll also have the chance to be on cara.
Always rember to show the elegance of our Light Prism TV Station reporters! Rember, the cara is your bulletproof vest!!"
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