165: Chapter 165: The Collision of Data and Story

Late at night, in the "editing room" on Hengchuan Peak, which was converted from an abandoned warehouse, the light was dim. Only a few huge projection stones emitted a cold, ghostly blue light.

The air was filled with the bitter scent of cold spirit tea, along with bursts of rapid tapping sounds.

Su Ciyao sat cross-legged in front of the floating virtual operation console, her eyes slightly narrowed, her fingertips sliding rapidly through the Void Realm. Before her were two vastly different worlds.

On the left was the "official battle report" material sent from Lingjian Peak.

High definition, maxed-out filters. Sword light poured down like a waterfall, Yao Beasts roared and exploded into blood mist, and the heroic figures wielding swords cast perfect silhouettes against the sunset. The background music was passionate and majestic; every shot had been meticulously selected, stripping away all wretchedness and gore, leaving only the ultimate aesthetic of violence.

On the right was the "raw footage" Wen Xi had sent back from the front lines of Guiku Pass.

Shaky, full of noise. Muddy boots, Dao robes stained with yellow filth, the sounds of coughing and moaning mixed together. And the faces of the Disciples, exhausted to the point of numbness, as they carried corpses in the rainy night.

"It's too disjointed." Su Ciyao looked at these two streams of material and muttered to herself, "One is high-and-mighty gods fighting, the other is the desperate struggle of the mud-legged. If we don't handle this well, the audience will just think we're selling misery."

"Then don't sell misery."

In the corner, Wen Xi held that heavy abacus, her other hand tracing a minimalist data stream in the air. She compressed the complex "plague control model" to the limit, shrinking it into an inconspicuous, even somewhat ugly, translucent icon, and forcibly shoved it into the bottom right corner of the screen.

[Data Overlay: Guiku Pass Real-Time Model]

Death toll curve: Forced from a steep red straight line into a gentle dashed line.

Karma debt: Changed from deep red to light orange (risk reduced).

Core logic: If these dirty jobs aren't done, this red line will pierce the sky.

"It's too ugly." Su Ciyao glanced at that grey, dusty icon and frowned. "Only you can read this kind of data; the audience will get dizzy just looking at it."

"But it proves that the dirty work has meaning." Wen Xi didn't even look up, her tone flat. "Without this overlay, your 'dirty work' is just dirty. With it, it's 'saving lives'."

Su Ciyao paused, then a playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Fine, then give it a close-up."

Her fingers tapped lightly, merging the two timelines completely.

The images began to flow.

"War Debt Liquidation Special: The Two Faces of Qingheng" officially went live on the Nine Provinces' streaming network.

The first half was still that adrenaline-pumping monster-slaying show. The live comments were filled with "So cool," "This is what cultivation should look like," and "Lingjian Peak is awesome." The vanity of the audience was fully satiated by those dazzling special effects.

However, halfway through the broadcast, the style changed abruptly.

The passionate background music stopped abruptly, replaced by the low sound of wind and suppressed coughing.

The camera cut to Guiku Pass.

No sword-flying, only combat boots stuck in the mire.

No suave throat-slitting with a single sword stroke, only trembling hands kneeling in the mud to feed medicine to an old man.

No cheering, only the sound of shovel after shovel digging into black soil mixed with blood and filth, and those corpses being carried onto cremation racks, leaving not even a name behind.

There was a brief vacuum in the live comments, followed by an unprecedented schism.

A portion of the audience was disgusted by this sudden "bad luck":

"Turn it off, turn it off. Why show this kind of stuff?"

"I want to watch cultivation, not a corpse-collection team!"

"Lingjian Peak is still cooler. Whoever wants to do this dirty work can do it."

But another part of the audience seemed to have had their Souls struck by something, and comments began to pour out crazily:

"Wait… what does that data chart in the corner mean?"

"If they didn't do this, would the death curve have risen that high?"

"It looks disgusting… but it seems like they're saving people?"

"I don't want to see this kind of footage, but if they don't do it, those Mortals will really die."

"Lingjian Peak kills the Yao, Hengchuan Peak saves the people. This… this is also a kind of cultivation, right?"

Su Ciyao didn't intervene in the argument in the comments; she just sat quietly in the background, watching the public opinion panel on the System interface vibrate violently.

[System Monitor: Public Opinion Analysis]

Current topic heat: S-Rank (Off the charts)

Audience camp split:

"Combat Glory" faction: 52% (Mainly supports Lingjian Peak, pursues visual stimulation and the aesthetics of the strong).

"Save Lives First" faction: 41% (Supports Hengchuan Peak, values practical survival and moral bottom lines).

Neutral/Wait-and-see: 7%.

Trend analysis:

Although the Combat Glory faction is still dominant, the growth rate of the "Save Lives First" faction is astonishing. In just one episode, this proportion has soared from 25% to 41%.

Beside that constantly climbing curve, Hengchuan Peak's "public support rating" was also quietly changing. The label that once represented "bankrupt" and "trash" was fading bit by bit, replaced by a brand-new label carrying the scent of mud—[Night Watcher].

In the courtyard of Hengchuan Peak, a group of Disciples who had just rotated back from Guiku Pass were huddled around a small projection stone, making faces and pointing.

"Hey, hey! Look here! That's Old Zhang, right? That shovel of mud he threw was so accurate, it hit him right in the face!"

"I'm dying of laughter, look at my dark circles, I look like a ghost."

"Junior Sister, your hands were shaking like a sieve when you were feeding the medicine, and they actually put that in?"

Everyone laughed until they were doubled over, as if the wretched people on the screen weren't themselves. This was finding joy in suffering, and the unique resilience of the lower class—since life is already so difficult, might as well tell it like a joke.

Shen Xingzhou stood behind the crowd, watching those faces that were still vivid despite the grey image quality.

His gaze didn't linger on the screen, but was fixed firmly on the climbing public opinion curve on the System's main screen.

40.2%... 40.5%... 41.1%.

"Still not enough."

Shen Xingzhou muttered to himself, brow slightly furrowed. "Although it's rising fast, the 'Combat Glory' faction is still the mainstream. In the voting for the merger, the group that looks at faces and utility will always outnumber those who look at conscience."

Public opinion is a war, and the current situation has only just turned from "one-sided crushing" to "evenly matched." To completely suppress Lingjian Peak by the end of the month and make the merger undeniable, this line has to keep climbing; it must climb past the median line.

The broadcast neared its end.

The image froze on the dawn at Guiku Pass, the first ray of sunlight piercing through the miasma, shining on the mud-stained Disciples of Hengchuan Peak. They stood with their backs to the camera, carrying shovels, walking toward the next corner that needed cleaning.

Su Ciyao's voice, without the adornment of background music, sounded cold and clear:

"Some people think that cultivation is flying through the sky and escaping the earth, is slaying demons and eliminating monsters, is standing on the clouds looking down on all living beings."

"Some people think that dirty work is unseemly, that saving people is not cost-effective, that dying ugly is a disgrace."

The scene cut, and she was facing the camera directly, her eyes having less playfulness and more seriousness than ever before.

"But I want to ask one thing—"

"Who says that only a handsome death counts as heroic?"

As these words fell, the broadcast signal cut off.

On the screen, only that small, ugly, yet still stubbornly flickering data overlay remained. That bent death curve lay there quietly, like a silent monument.

And at the very bottom of the System interface, a line of tiny text, as if foreshadowing a change in the era, was slowly appearing and gradually becoming bold.

[System Update]

Currently detecting ideological conflict: Data vs. Story

Judgment:

The traditional "Heroic Cultivation Narrative" is encountering a challenge from the grassroots "Survival Narrative."

Status Update:

["Definition of Heroism" is being rewritten...]

That ellipsis was very long, like a road yet to be traveled, leading to a future that no one could see through.