49 Apocalypse Rules

In the month that followed, the global situation changed at a rapid pace.

The effects of the first of the Apocalypse Rules were still ongoing. Not only had they not weakened, but they were actually intensifying.

It couldn’t be helped. The first Apocalypse Rule was simply too brutal, wiping out a huge portion of the world’s population in one fell swoop.

Even in a relatively stable nation like the North Star Country, over a quarter of the population was lost. The situation was even worse for smaller countries where order was already fragile.

In many countries, the percentage of the population that died solely from the power of the rule exceeded 50%.

And that wasn’t all.

The power of the rule had eliminated half, or even more than half, of the population, and the various riots that followed reduced the numbers even further.

Many smaller nations were simply wiped out.

Now, more than a month after the first Apocalypse Rule ended, the world’s structure was gradually being reshaped from the chaos.

The North Star Country remained relatively stable. Because it was the first to implement policies making food, culture, and entertainment free, people had food, drink, and recreation. This played a huge role in maintaining order and preventing large-scale internal conflict.

Another relatively stable power was the Soloma Empire in the southern part of the planet. Riots had initially broken out there as well, but they were quickly suppressed by the King’s iron fist.

In addition, a southern alliance called the Tulip Federation emerged.

This alliance was a collective formed from numerous collapsed smaller nations. While scattered they were but sand, but gathered they formed a pyramid. Their combined strength was not to be underestimated.

Aside from these three major powers, most other countries, large and small, were severely weakened. Forget about rising again; they had to fight with all their might just to keep their nations from disappearing entirely.

Currently, the three major powers—the North Star Country, the Soloma Empire, and the Tulip Federation—were all vigorously recruiting individuals with high Psychic Power at an official level.

They recruited from their own countries and from others. As long as someone’s Psychic Power was high, they wanted them.

Previously, there had been no way to verify just how high someone’s power was. But now, with the advent of the [Friend] function, people could add each other as friends and display their personal status panels.

That way, others could see their Psychic Power value, title, and nickname.

It was precisely because of this new function that a debate, which had finally started to die down, flared up once again.

The conflict between [Orderkeeper]s and [Disorder Breaker]s.

This was more than a simple matter of two different titles; it was a clash of the behaviors and values those titles represented.

Many of those with the [Orderkeeper] title believed that all [Disorder Breaker]s were murderers.

Meanwhile, many with the [Disorder Breaker] title argued that the [Orderkeeper]s were spouting nonsense. They claimed that not only did many people not know about the hidden rule at the time, but even if they did, they had to do what was necessary to survive.

One of the main arguments for the [Disorder Breaker]s was the lack of an official position on the matter.

That’s right. The government had never issued any statement declaring [Disorder Breaker]s to be outlaws or anything of the sort. They hadn’t even issued a single statement of condemnation.

Therefore, the [Disorder Breaker]s’ reasoning was, ’If the government isn’t even pursuing this, what gives you [Orderkeeper]s the right to whine about it?’

The two sides argued endlessly online, with a single post often erupting into tens of thousands of vitriolic comments.

Before, neither side could verify the other’s identity. Based on words alone, no one knew for sure what another person’s title really was.

But now, with the arrival of the [Friend] function, there was finally a way to verify it.

’I’m an [Orderkeeper], you’re an [Orderkeeper] too? Come on, post your numeric ID, let’s add each other on the terminal. We’ll know if you’re for real or not in an instant. After all, you can’t fake this stuff.’

Many [Disorder Breaker]s did the same, posting to form a [Disorder Breaker Alliance] and recruiting only fellow [Disorder Breaker]s. No hypocritical [Orderkeeper]s allowed.

This kind of societal division was certainly not something the government wanted to see, yet it was difficult for them to step in and say anything.

Some rational analysts theorized that the "Fire Thief" might have created these two titles with the specific intention of instigating conflict and dividing humanity. They urged everyone to think calmly.

Aside from the conflict between [Orderkeeper]s and [Disorder Breaker]s, the "Psychic Power Development Academy," announced by the Strategy Research Room, was also a topic of heated discussion.

Many people were asking everywhere about the academy’s location and admission requirements.

Apparently, the general public believed that getting into the academy meant receiving national-level professional guidance, which would put them far ahead of anyone outside it.

The Strategy Research Room held a special Q&A session to answer the public’s questions.

First, the academy’s founding purpose was singular: to use every means available to develop and enhance students’ Psychic Power, thereby preparing them to face the challenges brought by the Apocalypse Rules.

The academy would be located at a university in the Capital. Not only was the university itself being commandeered, but several nearby large stadiums, parks, and other facilities were also being requisitioned for an academy-style conversion.

As for the admission requirement, which the public was most curious about, it was simple. The sole requirement was a Psychic Power limit of 80 points.

In other words, one’s comprehensive bioinformatics evaluation had to reach the "Average" level just to be eligible to apply.

Everything else—age, wealth, background—was disregarded. Only Psychic Power mattered.

For those who didn’t meet the requirement, they could first follow the white paper to train and improve on their own, then apply for the next intake once they reached the threshold.

This single requirement disappointed many people. Given the Psychic Power level of the average person, admission was simply impossible.

As a result, some private organizations took the opportunity to recruit members.

The requirements for these private organizations were lower than the official one. While the government had a strict cutoff at 80, they would accept 70, or even 60 or 50. As long as it wasn’t too low.

Although the private organizations had lower requirements, the benefits they offered were not bad. Everyone who was willing to join could receive decent compensation.

For instance, the Qingmei Association secretly established an organization, offering generous rewards to attract people with high Psychic Power.

However, none of this had much to do with Guan Tong.

During this time, he had turned a blind eye to the affairs of the internet, focusing his mind solely on writing in the Wordless Book.

Every day, he would write with his Psychic Power, and when he needed to recover it, he would read novels or play games. Once restored, he would go back to writing.

He rarely checked the news online, feeling that the more he looked, the more chaotic his thoughts would become. It was better to find something simple to do.

He spent half a month in this monotonous routine.

One morning, after Guan Tong woke up, he glanced at his phone and was surprised to see another message from Fang Qian.

He was about to delete it without reading, but the content of the message caught him by surprise.

"Guan Tong, I know you’re not willing to forgive me... but I want you to know, I didn’t use that hidden rule back then. If you don’t believe me, you can add my numeric ID and check my title. My title is [Orderkeeper]."

"I’m only messaging you to say thank you. After I left your place, I realized I almost made a terrible mistake. If I had really done that, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself... Thank you for stopping me, for not letting me become a murderer."

After reading Fang Qian’s messages, Guan Tong didn’t know what to say.

He had no intention of adding Fang Qian as a friend to verify her title. It was pointless.

From the moment Fang Qian had raised that water cup to attack him, she had become a hostile stranger in his eyes.

Guan Tong thought for a moment before replying with a single message: "I see. Just take care of yourself."