103: Mr. Liu, the character you created is coming to check up on you.

One hour later, the China Ministry of Foreign Affairs regular press conference.

Inside the Blue Hall, hundreds of global reporters aimed their cameras at the podium.

A reporter from Reuters was given the chance to ask a question. He stood up and asked in a sharp tone:

“Regarding the formal diplomatic note submitted by South Korea today, inviting Caster Furina to visit Korea, what is China's position?”

All cameras instantly focused.

The spokesperson walked to the front, his expression calm, and adjusted the microphone.

“Regarding your question, I will hereby state China's three positions.”

“First, China has received the relevant diplomatic note.”

“Second, Ms. Furina is a distinguished guest who was summoned by the 'Holy Grail' to our country and is active within our borders. Her personal wishes must be respected completely and unconditionally.”

“Third,” the spokesperson paused, surveying the room, “any external attempt to violate Ms. Furina's personal wishes—to harass, interfere with, or influence her in any way—will be regarded by China as... a serious provocation to our national sovereignty.”

The words fell.

The entire press conference venue fell into three seconds of absolute silence.

Everyone was stunned by those last four words.

Serious provocation!

This was a phrase rarely used in official statements between nations during peacetime.

It represented not a warning, but an ultimatum.

The next second, flashbulbs exploded with unprecedented frequency.

The phrase “serious provocation,” accompanying the stern face of the Chinese diplomat, replaced #StealingCountryWantsToStealHydroArchon# as the new global online flashpoint within three minutes... Three hours after the incident was exposed.

Seoul, the Korean Exchange.

The moment the opening bell rang, the K-line chart of the Composite Index (KOSPI) plunged toward the abyss at a nearly vertical angle.

4.7%!

A crash immediately upon opening!

The wails of countless stock investors could not even penetrate the thick glass of the trading hall.

In particular, the entertainment and culture/tourism sectors were slammed to the limit down by massive sell orders almost instantly upon opening, turning the screen sickly green.

Cheong Wa Dae, National Security Office.

The atmosphere of the emergency meeting was suffocatingly oppressive.

The young official who had been so impassioned in the previous meeting, proposing the invitation to Furina, now sat slumped in his chair, pale, his shirt collar soaked with cold sweat.

The President slammed a document showing the KOSPI index trend onto the conference table.

“Is this what you called a 'once-in-a-lifetime opportunity'?”

No one dared to reply.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs stood up, took off his glasses, and bowed deeply to the President.

“Your Excellency the President, this matter originated from my ministry. I am willing to bear full responsibility and resign from my post.”

The President rejected his resignation, merely waving a tired hand.

“Now is not the time to assign blame. Go deal with the aftermath and clean up this mess!”

Meanwhile, the entrance to the Korean Embassy in China was completely blocked by reporters from all over the world.

The embassy's official website was completely overwhelmed by an avalanche of clown emoji memes, resulting in a de facto network paralysis... On the other side.

In Magic City, inside the presidential suite of a five-star hotel in Lujiazui.

Furina was curled up on the massive sofa, hugging a velvet cushion, browsing news about herself on a brand-new tablet computer.

On her shoulder, Lord Uther was gently massaging her with eight soft tentacles in a rhythmic fashion.

“Mm... that's a bit ticklish, Lord Uther.”

She mumbled, swiped the screen, and saw the news about South Korea inviting her for a cultural exchange.

Below the news was a photo of the hottest K-pop boy band, showing several young men with elaborate makeup posing handsomely for the camera.

Furina glanced at it, then looked again.

She closed the page and casually opened an encyclopedia website introducing the game Genshin Impact.

She looked at the settings regarding Fontaine and the “Hydro Archon,” and then looked at herself.

“Madam Heivima,” she said.

Madam Heivima, in the form of a floating bubble seahorse, swam over, making crisp bubble sounds.

“I want to go see a place.”

“The company that created Genshin Impact.”

Furina conveyed her request to the front desk through the smart butler service in her hotel room.

“Hello? Hi, I am Furina.”

“I hope to visit a company tomorrow. Its name is... miHoYo. Yes, that's the one.”

This request appeared in the Ninth Bureau's General Command Room system within three minutes.

Chen Jianguo looked at the message that popped up on the screen, and a subtle curve finally appeared on his usually serious face.

He turned around and looked at Jiang Ming Mirror Image One beside him.

“The opportunity has arrived.”

“Tomorrow, miHoYo Headquarters.”

“I will arrange a suitable identity for you to be there.”

...That night.

In Magic City, the miHoYo Headquarters Building was still brightly lit.

Inside the top-floor CEO office, Liu Wei, or “Dawei Ge” as players called him, was pressing hard on his temples with his fingers.

The coffee on the desk was stone cold, but he had no desire to drink it.

Since Furina's arrival, his life had been completely overturned.

First, he was invited for “tea” by the Ninth Bureau; then, his company was closely monitored, and he himself was placed under a strict exit restriction order.

The character he created had come alive.

Just then, a black, unmarked encrypted phone on his desk rang shrilly.

Liu Wei jolted and immediately sat upright.

This was the dedicated communication device left by the Ninth Bureau.

He took a deep breath and answered the call.

“General Manager Liu.”

The voice on the other end was calm and emotionless, yet carried an undeniable authority.

It was Director Chen, who had previously been responsible for questioning him.

“Director Chen, hello.” Liu Wei's voice was dry.

“To make a long story short,” Chen Jianguo skipped the pleasantries, “Ms. Furina will be visiting your company tomorrow morning.”

Liu Wei's mind went blank.

She... is coming?

To the place that created her “false life”?

“Our side requires that your company must receive her with the highest specifications, satisfy all of Ms. Furina's reasonable requests, and ensure she has a pleasant tour experience.”

“Highest specifications...” Liu Wei subconsciously repeated the phrase.

“Yes, the highest specifications. Furthermore,” Chen Jianguo continued, “a Security Consultant surnamed Jiang will accompany her throughout the visit tomorrow. Your side must cooperate unconditionally with all of his arrangements.”

“Consultant Jiang?”

“Correct. You just need to know that his word on site is equivalent to my command.”

The voice on the other end paused, seemingly giving him time to process.

“General Manager Liu, I know this matter seems surreal to you and your company, but please understand: this is no longer a matter of business or the gaming industry; this is a strategic deployment at the national level. Cooperating well will benefit you, miHoYo, and the nation.”

“I... I understand,” Liu Wei uttered with difficulty.

“Very well. Consultant Jiang will contact you beforehand with the specific procedures. That is all.”

The call was abruptly cut off, leaving only a dial tone in the receiver.

Liu Wei weakly put down the phone and collapsed into his large executive chair.

He looked up at the bright crystal lamp on the ceiling, an unprecedented sense of exhaustion washing over him.

He once dreamed of using technology and passion to create a virtual world.

Now, the God of the virtual world was coming to inspect his company in reality.

And all he could do was cooperate...