141: Chapter 141 Elite Pardon: Writer Slave

Biden unclasped his hands from in front of him, placed them at his sides, was silent for a moment, and then turned his head to look at Harris.

Harris slightly turned her head to avoid Zhang Long's gaze and said in a low voice: "That is indeed the case."

Graves and Mark Milley did not speak, but their silence was more explicit than a nod.

Sawyer and Madeleine also did not voice any objections.

Zhang Long continued.

"Blocking Earth's technology does not mean blocking the technology of Earth's elites."

"Those elites who want to be heroes, knights, or saints can still study what the correct cosmic spacetime is like, and they can also research methods to break out of the Solar System."

"But those who want to be heroes and knights must first become servants of the Longevity Faction!"

"For eternity, their descendants shall serve the Longevity Faction!"

Biden crossed his hands in front of him again, his speaking pace steady and unhurried, a faint smile even appearing at the corners of his mouth, as he replied:

"If that is the case, things will be completely different."

"The hope of all humanity will not only not be extinguished, but will instead soar to unprecedented heights."

"Because they will know that someone is working day and night to create hope for them."

"Anyway, the daily lives of ordinary people are already extremely mundane; letting them be completely immersed in a colorful virtual world—putting on their devices after getting home from work to conquer alien abyss bosses with teammates, or logging in on weekends to claim virtual real estate—will instead make every day full of happiness for them."

Secretary of Defense Graves followed up, using his habitual tough tone to add the final touch to this suggestion from an administrative perspective:

"It is enough to let those formulas and theorems of correct cosmic spacetime remain in the hands of a few elites."

"Even if these formulas were printed into manuals and distributed to ordinary people, they wouldn't be able to understand them."

Vice President Harris, however, frowned slightly at this moment.

She lowered her arms from her chest, clasped her hands in front of her, and carefully weighed her words before voicing her concerns:

"I completely agree with letting the 'heroes' compete for glory on everyone's behalf, but I'm afraid the term 'servant' might be difficult for those elites to digest."

"After all, that group is full of arrogant, top-tier minds."

Zhang Long gently flicked the rotating cubic star map back to its original position and raised a hand to signal that they shouldn't get hung up on the terminology.

"I was just stating the general idea; as long as you understand, that's enough."

"As for the specific details, whether you want to call them employees or staff, it's all up to you to decide."

Biden nodded slightly after hearing this, and Harris followed suit with a gentle nod.

Graves and Mark Milley exchanged a look, their eyes filled with the calmness that comes after establishing a major strategic direction.

Since Lord Zhang Long had delegated the authority for them to decide for themselves, the remaining matters...

Madeleine had already listed the outline of the implementation details in her mind;

Sawyer had even laid out his experience on how to use "tittytainment" to numb the public's emotions into an entire presentation in his mind.

In the past, they used entertainment gossip and short videos to make the lower-middle class stop thinking; now, they could use the virtual world to trap the entire lower stratum of society within the same framework.

They had done this so many times before that they were very experienced.

Just as Zhang Long finished speaking, Biden leaned forward slightly, using a tone that maintained presidential dignity while perfectly hitting that subtle line of "a subordinate requesting instructions from a superior," and asked:

"Lord Zhang Long, I will certainly implement your first order after we repel the million-strong fleet of Grey Alien."

"I just don't know... regarding the matter of resisting the million-strong alien fleet, what kind of technological aid will the Deep State provide to the Lighthouse Country?"

As soon as these words were spoken, all the high-ranking White House officials around them adjusted their standing postures in unison, as if plucked by the same string.

Harris tightened her clasped fingers in front of her by another three percent,

Graves pulled the brim of his military cap down by half an inch,

Mark Milley slowly moved his hands, which were behind his back, to his sides,

and Madeleine and Sawyer both raised their heads simultaneously.

After waiting for so long, the most important part had finally arrived!

Zhang Long brought his blue-gloved hands from behind his back to his front, tapped his fingertips together lightly, and spoke in a tone as flat as if he were relaying a routine matter already scheduled on a calendar.

"The Biden Administration you represent has already been instructed by the Longevity Faction, so you are subordinates of the Longevity Faction."

"Corresponding technological aid will naturally be provided."

Biden kept his hands crossed in front of him, his back still straight, but the reactions of the high-ranking White House officials behind him were far less restrained than his.

Harris involuntarily took half a step forward, her high heels making a very faint, crisp sound as they struck the plaza-style marble floor.

Graves took his military cap off his head and clutched it in his hand, his lips moving several times; he probably wanted to say some polite platitudes, but swallowed the words back when they reached his lips.

On Mark Milley's cold, hard face, which had commanded countless battles at The Pentagon, a rare, extremely subtle relaxation appeared.

Madeleine and Sawyer exchanged a glance, and both saw the same light of relief in each other's eyes.

Zhang Long waited for their excitement to subside slightly before continuing, his tone still flat, but the next sentence made everyone go quiet again.

"However, before that, you must complete one task."

"To prove your strength and capability."

Biden shifted his center of gravity back by half an inch; his expression did not change, but his speaking pace when he opened his mouth was a full beat slower than before.

"Please enlighten us, Lord Zhang Long."

"Since we are to completely blockade Earth, then every existence that impacts the implementation of this plan must be thoroughly destroyed."

Zhang Long looked at Biden, his cold eyes devoid of any extra emotion, as if stating a formula for which all variables had already been calculated: "Can you do it?"

Biden was silent for a few seconds.

Then he unclasped his hands from in front of him, let them hang at his sides, raised his head to look directly into Zhang Long's eyes, and spoke in a voice that wasn't loud, but every word felt as heavy as if it had been soaked in molten lead.

"We can."

Harris, Graves, Mark Milley, Madeleine, and Sawyer, who were standing behind him, all nodded silently.

Every one of them knew in their hearts that this was a trial and also an initiation ceremony.

If they completed it, they could get the Longevity Faction's technological aid and keep the million-strong fleet of Grey Alien outside the Solar System; if they couldn't, the game was over, and they wouldn't even have the chance to insert another coin.

Zhang Long put his blue-gloved hands back behind his back, a hint of very faint approval in his tone—so faint it was almost imperceptible, but it was indeed there.

"Of course, I won't let you work for nothing."

"After a while, I will give you some low-end technological data."

"When the time comes, just go find Diana to get it."

When the words "low-end technological data" came out of Zhang Long's mouth, his tone was as casual as if he were giving away a box of expired printing paper.

But to the ears of Biden and his group of high-ranking White House officials, it was an entirely different story!