Chapter 92: Contact Again
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Deep into the night, in the wealthy coastal area of Cape Town, a private manor that was as luxurious as a royal palace was shrouded in a strange silence.
It was as heavily guarded as a palace. One could hardly take one step without running into a sentry or a guard. Dozens of bodyguards dressed in black patrolled tirelessly within the grounds, alert to even the tiniest movent of a blade of grass.
In the heart of the private estate, in a bedroom of highest security, a skinny, haggard-looking man lay asleep. There was nothing left of his forr glory.
It was Dlamini, who had lost a lot of weight.
If he was once called a lion, then after the kidnapping incident, he had beco a cruel, paranoid jackal.
In the past three months, Dlamini’s temperant had changed drastically from a calm, strategizing man to soone who beat and scolded his underlings at every turn. So of his cronies, due to certain minor mistakes, were even tied up in burlap sacks and drowned in the sea.
He was visibly much thinner. His once sturdy fra had gradually shrunk. Add this to his frost-white complexion, and anyone would believe that he was seventy years old, let alone fifty.
Everyone found that Dlamini had changed. Now, he was afraid of the cold and of light, plagued by a perpetual sense of insecurity. He dared not even go out the door. He just locked himself in his manor all day long, dealing with his own affairs.
Currently, Dlamini was sleeping on the wide oak bed. The room was scented with soothing agarwood but his furrowed brows indicated that he was not sleeping well at the mont.
“Beep, notification of task!”
Suddenly, a cold, chanical female voice barged into Dlamini’s mind. In an instant, his eyes flew open, filled with endless bloodshot veins.
“You again!”
Dlamini’s pupils contracted as he grumbled in a low voice.
By now, he was no longer in the sa pathetic state he was in the first ti he heard this voice. After all, he was a formidable character who had held life and death in his hands. Three months was enough for him to prepare for this.
He drew in a deep breath and imdiately barked coldly. “Speak!”
“No. Gamma20220001, you’ve received a task from Sigma05. Please turn on your computer within half an hour to check it.”
“Turn on the computer?”
Dlamini was silent for a mont. He did not turn on the lights but moved to his desk in the dark and turned on his laptop. “Then?”
“Beep?”
However, before Dlamini could finish his question, the screen of the laptop he had just turned on suddenly went black. The original interface of the laptop transford into a black and red pattern.
Dlamini squinted and groped around the side of his desk. At last, he took out a pair of reading glasses and put them on.
Only then could he see the image on the laptop.
It was a black and red circular pattern, otherwise known as a logo.
In the logo, two hands were about to touch, set against a blood-red backdrop.
The two hands reached in from both sides of the logo. The one on the left was lower down, while the right one extended an index figure. It was as if the two fingers were about to touch.
The structure and position of this pattern reminded Dlamini of a fresco painting in the Sistine Chapel of Vatican City.
It was a mural called Genesis.
The hand on the left represented the human, Adam while the right hand represented God, Jehovah.
Nevertheless, unlike the mural, the hand representing God in the logo was not a human hand but a fully chanical structure.
When Dlamini saw this, he suddenly realized that this logo was the symbol of that mysterious organization.
“Mr. Dlamini.”
Just as Dlamini felt overco with awe, a human voice rang out from the computer.
“Who’s there?”
Dlamini shuddered and his body tensed up instinctively, but he relaxed again in the next mont. He simply asked in a disbelieving voice, “Who are you? How did you hack into my computer?”
“We’ve t before, Mr. Dlamini.”
This was what the husky, youthful voice said.
When Dlamini heard this, his pupils shrank. He instantly recalled that gloomy, bloody living room, that cheap, trashy hotel...
It was a nightmare he did not wish to revisit.
“Don’t panic, Mr. Dlamini. Let introduce myself properly.”
However, today seed different. This voice did not seem to be mocking him, only solemnly proclaiming, “I belong to the ‘God’s Forbidden Zone’ organization and I’m one of the mbers of the Disciple Council. My number is 05 and you can call —
“Judas.”
Judas?
Dlamini inhaled sharply. The information in this greeting was explosively montous. God’s Forbidden Zone, the Disciple Council, code number, and Judas...
What sort of organization had he been dragged into?
“Mr. Dlamini, your current status in the organization is due to a recruitnt process I’ve developed. Initially, you belonged to the lowest Delta-level but because you’ve completed the A-level task given by the organization three months ago, we made an exception and promoted you to Gamma-level.”
The voice slowly said, “I apologize. As your ntor, I haven’t done the best job. I didn’t teach you what to do at the beginning, so I’m determined to give you compensation.”
After a pause, the voice added. “Of course, you can also choose to refuse.”
Recruitnt process? Compensation?
Dlamini’s throat felt dry. He wanted to burst out yelling at this voice, but his rationality stopped him in ti. He could only swallow his frustration and asked hoarsely, “Before that, can I learn more about this organization you speak of?”
“Of course.”
The voice paused and then said, “Our God’s Forbidden Zone is a group of people who are brought together by their commitnt to pursue longevity and even immortality. Our mbers co from all over the Federation. Whether in the West or the East or right where you are, we’ve made our mark.”
As the voice spoke, Dlamini noticed the image on the computer had changed and a docunt appeared. “I’ve sent you our organization’s handbook. But please, don’t try to print it or record it in any other way. Otherwise, you know what will happen.”
The voice contained no trace of a threat but when Dlamini heard this, he trembled all over. Subconsciously, he touched the back of his neck and his face turned pale.
The docunt ntioned by the voice was a lengthy agreent. It included the important notes of God’s Forbidden Zone as well as an explanation of the God chip.
Only then did Dlamini understood for the first ti what the h*ll was in that wound behind his neck...
“The God chip is a kind of biological brain that assists human beings in work and life. You could say that it’s a sort of technological revolution, an intelligent auxiliary system for the new generation of humans. You can use it to record everything you see and ask it to transmit the video over the network whenever you need it.
“At the sa ti, it can connect to the Internet anyti and anywhere, looking up information for you or guide you when you encounter a problem.
“When you’re in danger, it can even call the police automatically or take over your body to help you escape or kill your opponent.
“One by one, these functions will beco accessible to you as your level in the organization increases...
“This is the God chip.”
The voice said serenely, “Surely now you understand. The fact that we chose you isn’t a misfortune. It just might be your opportunity for true glory.”
Finally, the voice said in a hushed tone, “Mr. Dlamini, do you want to beco the next Mandela?”
Dlamini’s pupils flared fiercely.
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