[Red Chief Steward Huan Bao’er begins forming the “Archdemon Special Action Team.”]

[Huan Bao’er invites me to join the Archdemon Special Action Team.]

Of the attendees, a full eighty percent chose to join.

Those who declined were immediately told they could go back to their previous tasks and were given a day off to catch up on sleep.

“The treasure I will be petitioning for can only be communicated with during the midnight hours on these last few days of the month—this is why I requested your presence here today.”

Huan Bao’er swept her gaze across the room: “Additionally, you may form smaller groups among yourselves. Anyone is free to join others’ teams.”

Gong Huanwu said:

“Since none of you have constructed anything like this before, for the next half month, you may refer to the materials and build freely. After half a month, we will hold the first round of evaluation, retaining the superior groups and merging the members of other groups into them.”

“So, the true construction of the Magic Hero Hall begins only after half a month?”

“Yes, but the state of time expansion starts from the end of this meeting, so don’t wander off beyond the eastern sector of the company if you have no other business.”

Everyone nodded in understanding.

Huan Bao’er glanced across the faces of the hundreds in attendance one by one, as if etching everyone’s image into her memory. Yang Zicang felt her gaze pause on him briefly.

“If no one has any objections, I will begin applying for the usage permissions for the secret treasure on your behalf.”

Everyone straightened up and turned to look at the head of the long table.

Huan Bao’er uncrossed her long legs and sat up straight, her gaze turning ethereal as she looked forward, like a capable military officer.

A ring of light appeared before the woman’s chest, where a rosy point of light moved slowly, tracing the outline of a slowly rotating pentagram.

“A pentagon!”

The crowd stirred excitedly, staring at the red pentagram inside the small halo.

Yang Zicang took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. So there truly was a pentagon above the quadrilateral—but just how should one go about upgrading to it?

An intangible pressure of authority filled the air.

{I, Lost Illusion Company, Red Chief Executive of Starlight Illusion, Huan Bao’er, make this request to the Lost Fate.}

As the voice fell, an ancient wind seemed to blow from the far end of the grand hall.

Everyone looked up at the wall, which had turned transparent. The entire hall drifted above the clouds as if a wall were missing.

Intermingling, rolling, and spreading were gray-black, chaotic, dense blue, and reddish-brown cloud clusters. A thin mist covered part of the ground. Beams of light shot out from the clouds, turning into gauze-like ribbons that extended, drifted down above the long table, and gently swayed.

 Bound Destiny states: Please state your request.>

Huan Bao’er slowly tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the wall that had become transparent and revealed the clouds.

Within the clouds, an image of the current hall appeared, mirrored like the surface of a ta.

That same ancient and vast hall featured a similarly long wooden table and a similar gathering of people. Some stood, some sat; those near this side turned around or craned their heads to look over.

But these people were all reflections of those present at this moment.

They wore the uniforms common to the gentry and honor knights of the eighteenth century, yet among them were also figures of cowboys, as well as seem monks and mendicants draped in slanting robes.

That was an even more ancient image—a scene from past histories ta bore resemblance to the present moment.

It had been conjured by some unknown force and revealed to everyone.

At the head seat of the long table within, there was also a figure with an upright back. That gentleman, refined and handsome, turned his head to look over at their table.

Both sides locked eyes, but Yang Zicang knew that the other party was not looking at him.

What they were gazing upon was perhaps an ancient scene even more similar to them.

Huan Bao’er’s telepathic voice spread, saying:

{I appeal to the lost fate, grant us temporarily ‘the Right of Mental Manifestation’.}

The people dressed in medieval attire on the other side each turned their heads back and continued their silent conversations.

The image gradually faded away.

As the request fell, the ribbons drifting into the hall landed on everyone, clear ribbons melting upon contact like snowflakes.

[I have acquired ‘the Right of Mental Manifestation’.]

Light and clouds dissipated like a rainbow, and the hall returned to normal.

【Right of Mental Manifestation — What you think becomes what appears.】

【Current Status: No Status.】

The crowd was relatively silent, everyone sensing the newfound ability within the model on their chest.

Low murmurs gradually arose. Some chatted with each other; others turned around and began taking notes on their meeting books.

Yang Zicang and Zorro, who had no experience with this, both came empty-handed.

“Everyone, from now until the City Ranking Battle at the end of the year, focus exclusively on this one task. Other materials can be accessed from the ‘Special Action Team Command Room.’ Additionally, each team must have two departments working together.”

The phantom of the Demon Eagle Palace overhead flickered and vanished, scattering into specks of light that carried within them information about the arena city.

The meeting ended, and Huan Bao’er rose to leave.

Ba Haitao, on the left, turned to look at Yang Zicang, a vibrant smile on his face:

“Zicang, from the First Action Department, you’re the only one participating in this mission, right?”

“There’s also Wang Dingshan.”

“Oh, just the two of you. Want to join our team? We’re short on Action Department personnel.”

Sensing something, Yang Zicang glanced over and saw a few people at the far end of the long table nodding at him—Ba Haitao’s department members.

“The veterans of your First Action Team are the company’s backbone. Each of them clears more psychic fields in a month than all of us combined. The executives won’t assign them to this kind of work.”

Yang Zicang pondered. Wang Dingshan would probably join a team with his former members.

Just as Yang Zicang was weighing refusal or acceptance, Jiaoma hurried over to the opposite side of the table, clutching her notebook.

She pointed at the young man with a slender, jadelike finger and said:

“Yang Zicang, I command you to rejoin the team!”

Yang Zicang lowered his head. Ba Haitao laughed heartily: “Group Leader Jiaoma, you’re quick to snatch people away.”

“What do you mean, snatch? He’s my team member to begin with. Hmph!”

Having grown up here, Jiaoma treated the Lost Illusion Company like her own home, exuding a sense of authority remarkably like a proprietress.

Ba Haitao gave Yang Zicang’s shoulder a firm pat:

“Zicang, you might as well return to the group. Jiao Ma has several supervisors above her who are her godfathers and godmothers. If you piss her off, there won’t be any good coming your way.”

“Alright, Group Leader Jiao.”

Zorro looked at Jiao Ma: “Can I join your team?”

“Of course, I couldn’t ask for more. I gladly take in all talented people who come to my Jiao Group.”

Her chin lifted up, like a proud little peacock.

Looking at the girl, she was in a fantastic mood, a completely different aura from when she was working as an office employee in the group.

Jiao Ma laughed joyfully.

“I’ll wait for you both to report at the command room tomorrow.”

……

Back in the bedroom, Yang Zicang sat on the bed and closed his eyes.

[I, the humble quadrilateral, begin to exercise the Right of Mental Manifestation.]

Light emerged from his chest, and Yang Zicang felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance rise within him.

“……”

[Endowed by the great Right of Mental Manifestation, I can restore the Demon Palace within the Sea of Spirit.]

[I begin the restoration.]

A gentle breeze swept by, and Yang Zicang opened his eyes.

He found himself standing silently and suddenly beneath the ancient and vast Demon Palace.

Yang Zicang first looked at his own hands.

“Am I inside my own sea of spirit now? So amazing, things I never imagined doing before now feel as ordinary as my own instincts.”

Looking up, at the top of the robust structure, taller than a mountain, the pyramid was completely invisible.

With a single thought, Yang Zicang’s employee card from the first action team was constructed and manifested by the model, leading his psychic body to randomly appear at the other end of the mountain-like palace.

As he quickly scanned the terrain within, Yang Zicang understood why this place could accommodate ten to twenty thousand people conducting assessments simultaneously—it had several different paths.

These paths sometimes intersected, sometimes closed off, but all ultimately led to the apex.

The final confrontation took place within that pyramid; only the victor could ascend the lotus throne and claim its treasure.

The more meticulously he examined this enormous palace, the more difficult Yang Zicang found it—just the design blueprint alone would take ages to draw. Yet they had to construct such a massive palace within four to five months—though Director Huan Bao’er stated everyone only needed to transform and assemble pieces within the psychic field, his own action team was responsible for this assembly work.

But having a team of newcomers build a grand palace in such a short time was already an immensely difficult task, and it also had to double as a capability test. Yang Zicang felt the outlook for this matter’s outcome should not be viewed optimistically.

At this moment, many people within the Lost Illusion Company were doing similar things.