Voice of the Ordinary

“What happened to me? Speak up, I’m listening.”

Faced with such a blunt and imposing question, Hai Mian couldn’t help but re-evaluate the person before her. This exquisite and hero-like young man spoke aggressively, yet his eyes held a sophisticated, calculated maturity. His temperament was clean and upright, the kind of presence that made people like her feel physically uncomfortable.

It was like a sewer rat catching the scent of industrial-grade disinfectant.

Hai Mian maintained a professional, calm tone, deliberately raising her voice to command the room: “Mr. Bai, I am a doctor. Please answer me directly: did you seek out someone to perform [Neural Path Expansion] to forcibly increase your mental power?”

A flicker of malice touched her lips. “If that is the case, I’m afraid a law-abiding doctor like myself cannot provide you with treatment.”

The room fell into a shocked silence. In the mecha world, [Neural Path Expansion] was a dirty term. These pilots were well-informed and had heard of the “grey” shortcuts: using drugs to temporarily boost mental power to sneak into five-star associations, or even undergoing surgery to forcibly re-develop the brain; all methods strictly forbidden by law.

But every shortcut has a price. The success of expansion varies, and while some pilots rocketed to fame, the side effects inevitably followed within a year or three: headaches, trances, hallucinations, and memory blackouts. Any one of these was a death sentence for a high-risk pilot.

The crowd erupted into chaotic whispers:

“Pulling up seedlings to help them grow never works; even school kids know that.”

“He probably took the risk just to get into the association. I always wondered how a disabled bird managed to tame the Rattlesnake.”

“Should we… contact the Captain and have ‘Bai Ling’ expelled?”

Anna stepped forward with a fierce glare. “What absolute nonsense! Fledgling isn’t that kind of person.”

Only she knew that Bai Ling was far too upright to ever cause trouble for others. Seeing him questioned by so many colleagues made her heart ache for him. She stood before Hai Mian and demanded, “You’re so certain he’s has a problem, where is your absolute proof?”

“Of course I have it. Please do not question my professionalism.”

Hai Mian had prepared for this. She magnified the projection screen five times so everyone could see. Pulling a folding electronic pointer from her pocket, she tapped the edge of the mental wave imaging, speaking in the patronizing tone one might use for children.

“You might not understand this, so let me explain. Look at this cross-section. While his collective neural path is spacious enough to be rated S-class or higher, when we zoom in, it reveals that the inner walls are pitted and uneven, as if dug out with a shovel. These are clear marks of being forcibly stretched by artificial external force.”

The crowd peered at the screen, murmuring hesitantly, “It really does look a bit off.”

Hai Mian adjusted her glasses. “I am using the most advanced PHA brainwave acquisition analyzer, the same equipment used by top-tier hospitals and private clinics.”

Anna, as a association manager, was used to handling medical reports even if she wasn’t a doctor. She realized Hai Mian’s explanation was logically sound, and her face flushed with worry as she looked at Bai Ling.

Fledgling, did you really take a shortcut? The thought of having one’s mental channels widened bit by bit, like a grave being chiseled out, sounded excruciating.

To her surprise, Bai Ling remained calm. He even had the presence of mind to pull out his terminal, snap photos of the two images, and send them to someone. A minute later, he saw the reply, raised an eyebrow slightly, and tucked the terminal back into his pocket.

Hai Mian asked mockingly, “Mr. Bai is silent. Is that a guilty conscience?”

Bai Ling locked his eyes onto hers. “Since I’m truly so beyond help, why don’t you prescribe me some medicine, Dr. Hai?”

Hai Mian froze for a second before a smile spread across her face. “Certainly.”

It was easier than she thought. Once she mixed the chronic poison into the dose and watched “Bai Ling” take it, his spirit would wither, his appetite would vanish, and eventually, his internal organs would bleed out. In the end, he would cough up blood just by walking up a flight of stairs.

She prepared the dose from her medical kit and brought over a small cup. “This is a high-energy nutrient; it’s very good for the body.”

Bai Ling snatched it and brought it to his lips. But as Hai Mian watched expectantly, he stopped.

He said lazily, “Oh, right. I just had a drink before coming here, so I can’t take medicine now. Such precious medicine, I should take it back and savor it slowly.”

Hai Mian’s face fell instantly. “No!”

“Why not?”

She scrambled for an explanation. “The liquid will oxidize when exposed to air. It loses its efficacy within an hour or two.”

Bai Ling had anticipated this; she had used the same lie on him in his past life. “But I’ve had alcohol. I truly cannot take it now. I’m sure a highly professional doctor like yourself understands such a simple rule.”

Hai Mian narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Give the cup back to me, and I’ll prepare a fresh one tomorrow.”

She reached for it, but Bai Ling was faster. He stepped back into the open space and smiled. “It would be such a waste to throw out such a good nutrient. There are others in the association suffering from brain fatigue after training; I’ll let them have some instead.”

Immediately, several alphas chimed in, “Yeah! Why are we never the ones getting pampered? We want the nutrients too!”

“Dr. Hai, one cup isn’t enough. Prepare a dose for everyone!”

Hai Mian turned pale. She watched as Bai Ling distributed the poison to the others, one small sip each, while he didn’t touch a drop. This changed everything. Her mission was only to “Kill Bai Ling.” If she caused a mass poisoning event, the company would likely discard her or leave her to rot on a desolate planet. The thought terrified her.

“—Stop! Nobody drink it!” Hai Mian ordered instinctively.

The crowd turned to look at her in confusion. Her face was contorted with fear, as her professional facade completely shattered. She was breaking into a cold sweat. As pilots with high sensitivity, they could see the guilt written all over her.

Looking at the dark liquid in their hands, they realized something was very wrong.

Anna commanded coldly, “Lock the doors! Seize her!”

Hai Mian was no fighter and couldn’t resist a group of alphas. However, when she realized they intended to interrogate her, she actually felt a sense of relief. Her mental stability was at 85%, excellent by any standard. To think these “brutes” could extract information from a professionally trained corporate spy was a joke.

As Anna presided over the room, Hai Mian remained steady, expertly dodging their questions. “I see. Your association is afraid word of a ‘mentally ill pilot’ will get out, so you’re framing me to revoke my medical license. I won’t bow to your intimidation.”

Her talent for twisting the truth had everyone fuming, yet they couldn’t do much to her yet.

Just then, Bai Ling spoke up. “Ms. Hai seems very familiar with the process of framing someone. If you don’t spend all your time studying it, why aren’t you in a hurry to prove your innocence?”

“I am innocent! I don’t need to prove anything!”

“Oh? Then who is this?”

Bai Ling projected a photo from his terminal. It was a numb-looking ID photo. The face was Hai Mian’s, but most importantly, she was wearing a Rayco Pharmaceutical employee badge.

The room gasped. Rayco’s reputation in the mecha circle was garbage; no sane person would touch their supplements. It was rumored they were trying to steal the Rattlesnake’s data after seeing the success of specialized mechas for disabled pilots.

As Thomas Joseph Dunning once said, at 50% is positively ready to break to itself a head, at 100% it tramples on all human laws, at 300% there is no such crime on which he would not risk, at least under pain of the gallows. Rayco clearly wanted to poison the pilots to steal secrets!

The pilots were furious, ready to haul her to the police. Hai Mian sneered, “Even if you send me to the police, as long as I stay silent, I’ll be released quickly. You think those average-stability cops can handle me? I’m professionally trained!”

Suddenly, the office door swung open. A man wearing a black mask stood there with his arms crossed. “My stability is 90%. Is that enough to handle you?”

“You…” Hai Mian turned white. Realizing her situation was hopeless, she tried one last desperate move to drag Bai Ling down with her: “Whatever I did, ‘Bai Ling’ using illegal means to expand his neural paths is a fact! His crime remains!”

Bai Ling casually placed a call and turned on the speakerphone.

On the screen was the young Dr. Zhuo Dong, sitting in his office with a wall of patents behind him. “Hello, I am Dr. Zhuo, medical license 2413-38675. I swear on my career that the scan you just saw does not belong to Mr. Bai. It is data stolen from my clinic.”

Hai Mian shivered as she looked at Zhuo Dong. He was no longer the gentle, compassionate man she knew; his face was firm and professional.

“We have collected evidence for the police. We will be suing Rayco for unfair competition, data theft, and endangering public safety. If anyone would like to join the class-action lawsuit, please contact Mr. Bai.”

Hai Mian collapsed into her chair. In truth… she had actually liked that honest, naively sweet Little Woodpecker. Now, the only warmth she had ever felt had been destroyed by her own hands. She felt a wave of regret. If only she had abandoned the mission, married him, and remained a simple assistant in the clinic, her life would have been so much happier.

---

Within two hours, the news of Rayco’s latest scandal spread across the mecha world. Media outlets rushed to cover the story, with one platform leading the charge:

[Voice of the Ordinary]

This platform had an extraordinary background. Half a month ago, it was a third-rate rag digging up pilot scandals for clicks. Since being acquired by Gorgon, it had shifted to brilliant, sharp-tongued reporting. It covered everything from mecha races to social justice and entertainment, accepting anonymous submissions from all walks of life.

The model wasn’t exactly new, but in a New Empire where the elite controlled the narrative and every media outlet spoke with the same boring mouth, it was a breath of fresh air.

Bold and unapologetic.

This time, the anchor of [Voice of the Ordinary] delivered a stable performance, dropping a bombshell: ‘This year happens to mark the 100th anniversary of Rayco Pharmaceutical. Clearly, the company’s top brass made a wise turnaround, oh, I mean, a turn-in to the authorities. Got to hand it to them, they’re like a centenarian eating arsenic, thinking they’ve lived a little too long for their own good.'”

Meanwhile, in the Underwater Metropolis—

“It’s bad, it’s bad, Your Grace! Our company’s reputation is in the gutter. Even the government channels couldn’t withhold the reports. Now, a massive crowd has taken to the streets of the Capital Planet to protest, demanding that the Sovereign shut down Rayco. This is one of our pillar industries. What are we going to do next?”

“Revolt… it’s a total revolt… a bunch of mere peasants dare to openly defy me?” The over-aged Swordfish Duke shouted in a towering rage: “Arrest them! Cut them down! Cut them all down!”

---

On the other side, the Seventy-Two Demon Pillars were holding an anonymous meeting—

The shadow silhouette known as [The Painter] reported with a voice tinged with the weariness of age, yet full of respectful excitement: “Respected The One, following your instructions, we have mobilized the grassroots personnel to stage protest marches. Currently, the authorities have been forced by public pressure to release news that they are preparing a thorough investigation into the matter.”

The One rotated his chair, thinking for a moment. “It is not enough. I recall there were victims from the previous mecha accidents who have yet to receive compensation. These people must be in dire need of a channel to speak.”

“You mean…”

“Find these people and send them to [The Broadcaster]. Give each of them a microphone and let them speak their minds freely.”

“Yes!” The Painter replied, energized.

Yu Chen propped his face in his hand, his long fingers slowly tapping his temple. He felt his long-stagnant blood boiling for the first time in ages.

He concluded the meeting with a pleasant prophecy: “Perhaps, this is a spark being ignited.”

---

Author’s Note:

Little Bird: (Holds up a torch) (When poor, use precision strikes) (Throws~) Take this! Carbon-grilled Great Swordfish!

Old Merman: (Pours oil) (Doesn’t think it’s enough) (Buys an oil tanker and drives it over)

Little Bird: (Grabs the fuel nozzle) (Fierce spraying) (Wealthy) Firepower coverage!!

 

Full quote: The capital avoids noise and abuse and differs timid nature. This is true, but that’s not the whole truth. Capital is afraid of absence of profit or too small profit as nature abhors a vacuum. But once there is adequate profit, capital is bold. Provide 10 %, and the capital agrees any application, at 20 % it becomes animated, at 50% is positively ready to break to itself a head, at 100% it tramples on all human laws, at 300% there is no such crime on which he would not risk, at least under pain of the gallows. If the noise of battle and make a profit, the capital will be to encourage both. The proof: contraband and trade in slaves.
Capital is said … to fly turbulence and strife, and to be timid, which is very true; but this is very incompletely stating the question. Capital eschews no profit, or very small profit, just as Nature was formerly said to abhor a vacuum. With adequate profit, capital is very bold. A certain 10 per cent. will ensure its employment anywhere; 20 per cent. certain will produce eagerness; 50 per cent., positive audacity; 100 per cent. will make it ready to trample on all human laws; 300 per cent., and there is not a crime at which it will scruple, nor a risk it will not run, even to the chance of its owner being hanged. If turbulence and strife will bring a profit, it will freely encourage both. Smuggling and the slave-trade have amply proved all that is here stated.

 

Translator’s note: if you’re interested in Finance and the story of speculation I’d recommend the book “A Random Walk Down Wall Street”.

if you’re interested in the power of media, i’d recommend this short animation about The five filters of the mass media machine. The irony of [the voice of the ordinary] being a private corporation’s/old government’s mass of maneuver isn’t lost on me lol. you can only blame the tyrant for being too foolish and not training his PR staff