Chapter 2: Several Grand Finales

This is the grand finale of Illumine Lingao that I hacked from Chuiniuzhe's computer. Everyone may take a look, but you must absolutely not breathe a word of this!

Grand Finale of Illumine Lingao:

After the transmigrators finally succeeded in establishing their nation and bringing harmony to the entire world, all five hundred of them gathered on this day for the rare assembly in the Traversal Palace—designed personally by Supervisor Ma in the style of the Soviet Palace. The magnificent space above stood temporarily empty; rumor had it that they had underestimated Director Wen's waistline, resulting in a bronze statue too heavy in front, too light behind, too wide in the middle, and too narrow at the bottom. It had already been sent back for recasting.

Yet this did not dampen the celebratory mood. All non-transmigrators withdrew after setting up the tables, leaving only transmigrators in the vast hall. The tables overflowed with exquisite delicacies beyond imagination: orangutan lips, panda paws, cheetah whips, giant turtle skirts—a dazzling array of the rarest luxuries. Fine wines of every variety gushed from a fountain at the hall's center. It was a veritable paradise of indulgence. The transmigrators sang and danced, jubilant at the perfect success of a decade's endeavors. Some, remembering comrades who had fallen along the way, wept openly. The hall resounded with tremendous revelry.

Amidst the laughter and merriment, only Supervisor Ma on the main dais seemed burdened with worry. He barely touched the food and wine, pressing his hand repeatedly against his chest—the object was still there, firm—and his heart eased slightly. He could not help but recall the task Director Wen had personally entrusted to him three months prior: to draft a plan for distributing the transmigrators' interests. While he could not guarantee unanimous approval, Director Wen's ironclad order demanded at least eighty percent agreement.

In the months since, Supervisor Ma had endured countless sleepless nights, and his already sparse hair had nearly vanished entirely. Whether the proposal nestled in his breast pocket—the fruit of his painstaking efforts—would gain approval, he truly had no idea.

While Ma Qianzhu remained lost in thought, a tremendous crash rang out. Xi Yazhou, who had leapt onto a banquet table to dance the Cossack, pitched headlong to the floor. Before anyone could laugh, the clatter of overturning chairs, shattering plates, and scattering chopsticks filled the air as countless guests collapsed around him. Someone screamed, "The wine is poisoned!"—and instantly, the hall erupted into chaos!

Supervisor Ma's heart seized. He immediately channeled his true qi, activating the Sunflower Manual. Yet the moment he drew upon his power, his organs and meridians felt as if knives were twisting through them, and a jet of purple blood burst from his lips. The poison was fearsome indeed. In the space of a single breath, he surveyed the hall—not a single person remained standing.

Except—

Except that to Supervisor Ma's left, one man still stood with arms clasped behind his back, proud and utterly unmoved!

"How can it be you?"

The man did not answer. He pressed his hand against the corner of the table, and with a mechanical whirring, the floor of the great hall slowly split apart, revealing a bottomless pit beneath. As the floor retracted, tables, chairs, and the corpses of the transmigrators tumbled into the abyss.

Supervisor Ma's internal power ran deep; he suppressed the poison before it could reach his heart's core. He could still sit upright in his chair, though utterly immobile. Thinking of how the entire traversal enterprise now fell into this man's hands, he spat out hatefully: "I planted countless agents around you, Director Wen—how could you possibly accomplish something of this magnitude? I shall die with my eyes unclosed!"

Director Wen let out a long, resonant laugh. Reaching beneath his chin, he peeled away a thin mask of human skin, revealing a different face beneath—a rarely-seen, plump countenance.

The fat man snarled: "Director Wen and I have never appeared at the same time. Did none of you superior beings ever notice?"

Ma Qianzhu's face turned ashen, and another spray of fresh blood erupted from his mouth. Watching the floor retreating beneath his feet, his consciousness dimming, he could only cry out: "So be it! So be it! To die in the Pit King's pit is at least a fitting end!"

Gazing upon the empty hall, the fat man let out a blood-chilling cackle. He strode forward and ripped away the last two characters of the "Celebration Banquet" banner, revealing the word "Tower" beneath. From beyond the doors came the synchronized chant: "Ten thousand years! Unify the world!"

(THE END)

The above is by "Cóng Tiān Jiàng Yīng" (SB Crew)

Below is YYYYY's supplement to this ending:

Too fast.

Better to follow the Yongzheng approach instead.

First came the reversing-heart pot of poisoned wine paired with poisoned pigeon—Xi Yazhou and the other gluttons consumed too much and were done in.

The survivors included those who weren't poisoned and some who were only lightly affected.

Then the hidden masters—Elder P? and others—vomited blood and wounded the lady pirate with their precious palms, but they too eventually succumbed to the poison.

Beyond the tower waited clouds of poison smoke, which felled another batch of escapees.

Beiwei and the special forces squad were eliminated by the traps...

In total, there were ten deadly stratagems.

In the end, the escapees numbered just a handful, including Xiao Zishan (the author employed a golden finger here), but the story was far from over—and the grudges even less so.

The survivors gathered on the mountain to mourn their fallen comrades. Just then, on the distant sea, the glow of dawn slowly rose—it was Mengde, returning from his mission abroad.

"Amsterdam, I will return," Xiao Zishan declared as he departed.

(End of Chapter)