After browsing the forum for a while, Jiang Yang turned off his phone.
At this current stage, after two prophecies had been fulfilled in succession, the popularity of his prophecy post had indeed skyrocketed, but it was still confined to the Weihu Forum and had not yet “broken out of its circle.”
For it to draw mainstream public opinion, or even national attention, at this stage was rather unlikely.
But that was fine. He only had to wait for the later prophecies to slowly come true.
On the third day, around one in the afternoon.
Jiang Yang once again received a news push notification.
As expected, it was about that minor earthquake.
With the appearance of this news, another wave of fervor swept through the Weihu Forum. At the same time, Jiang Yang also observed discussions appearing on other forums.
With three prophecies in a row coming true, this round of discussion saw almost all teasing, rubbernecking, and gossip vanish. The netizens had become much more serious.
There were even a large number of conspiracy theory posts.
Jiang Yang still did nothing, continuing only to wait in silence.
The account that had posted the thread before was never logged into again.
On the fourth day, along with the verification of the fourth prophecy, Jiang Yang suddenly noticed that online discussions about these prophecies had decreased by a great deal.
Not only on the Weihu Forum, but on some other forums, short-video platforms, and so on, related content had also been drastically reduced.
Jiang Yang tried posting a related thread from the perspective of an onlooker. Less than a minute later, the post disappeared.
He let out a soft breath.
Clearly, the contents of these prophecies had already attracted attention at a fairly high level. In that case, he probably would not have to wait too long.
On the night of the fourth day, Jiang Yang went to what was rumored to be the most upscale restaurant in the city where he lived.
Rumor had it that some tycoon had once spent over a hundred thousand yuan on a single meal there.
He looked at his savings. After spending money like water for several days straight, he had about eighty thousand left.
“That should be enough for one meal.”
Jiang Yang muttered, “Maybe this will be the last meal I ever eat outside.”
He ordered seven or eight dishes he had previously only seen online and never in reality, then feasted to his heart’s content before going home to sleep.
Early on the fifth day, just as Jiang Yang walked out of his residential compound, intending to buy a basket of steamed buns to eat, an utterly ordinary-looking man approached him.
“Mr. Jiang Yang? Would it be convenient for you to come with us for a talk?”
Jiang Yang’s heart stirred. When he sized the man up again, he faintly sensed a fierce, valiant aura from this seemingly ordinary person.
Looking around, Jiang Yang saw that on the street, at the entrances of small shops, and in the seats of snack stalls, several dozen people were all more or less watching this place.
When he raised his head, he saw faint glints from the buildings on both sides of the street, as if they had been deliberately revealed for him to notice.
Jiang Yang, who was well versed in gunfight games, immediately formed a guess.
“Could those be snipers? Is this meant to intimidate me?”
Looking up at the sky again, there were also several dozen tiny black dots hovering there, and he could vaguely hear a buzzing sound.
Were those drones?
Long before he had noticed anything, an inescapable net had already been laid around him.
But in the face of this dragnet, Jiang Yang felt no nervousness at all. Instead, he was slightly gratified.
“Now that’s what I call professional.”
Looking at the perfectly ordinary man before him, Jiang Yang smiled and said, “It’s convenient. Very convenient. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Please.”
A car glided silently to Jiang Yang’s side. The door opened, and Jiang Yang sat in the back seat. The man also sat down beside him.
He did not speak, and neither did Jiang Yang.
The car sped along the entire way, finally arriving at a complex of buildings with no doorplate or signboard, surrounded on all sides by tall walls.
Led by the ordinary-looking man, he took an elevator down. Who knew how deep they descended before they finally arrived in a simply furnished room.
A few sofas, a few chairs, a bed, a desk, and some electrical appliances. Apart from these, there was nothing else.
Jiang Yang saw that in this room, whether it was the walls or the edges and corners of the furniture, everything was wrapped in a layer of foam. The floor was also covered with a thick carpet.
A stern-looking, tall middle-aged man sat on one side of the desk. Seeing Jiang Yang enter, he took a few steps forward and extended his hand. “Comrade Jiang Yang, hello. I am Gu Changshan, the person in charge of this base.”
After shaking hands, Gu Changshan gestured toward the chair opposite the desk. “Please sit.”
Jiang Yang could clearly sense that Gu Changshan was trying his best to appear friendly toward him. But he could just as clearly sense the deep vigilance behind that friendliness.
Jiang Yang had long anticipated this.
If it were him, faced with someone very likely to have mastered some method of predicting the future, whose identity was unclear—and who might even be an extraterrestrial lifeform—he would choose the same attitude.
“We have taken the liberty of inviting you here mainly because we would like to confirm a few things with you. Some time ago, someone posted a prophecy thread on the Weihu Forum…”
“I posted it. I made the prophecies.”
Jiang Yang directly interrupted Gu Changshan and spoke with simple candor. “My purpose in posting that thread was to make you come find me.
“That’s right. I can indeed be considered a time traveler. I personally experienced all of those things, and the end of the world is also real.
“My goal is very simple as well: to resolve the apocalypse.
“I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to see others die. Even less do I want our country and our civilization to go extinct. But I’m just an ordinary person. I don’t have the ability to resolve the apocalypse. My only hope is to cooperate with you.
“I will tell you everything I know and fully cooperate with all your requests.”
Hearing Jiang Yang’s words, Gu Changshan was slightly stunned. Then he said, “Please go on.”
Jiang Yang raised his head and looked around at the furnishings of the room.
Although he did not see any surveillance equipment, even thinking with his backside, Jiang Yang knew that this room definitely concealed who knew how many monitoring and recording devices.
Every word he said, every tiny movement he made, even every minute bodily reaction during the process—including changes in blood pressure, changes in heartbeat, changes in endocrine activity, and so on—would be recorded in full, then subjected to study by who knew how many people.
But there was not the slightest panic in his heart, nor the slightest fear.
Because his purpose was very simple.
“I don’t want to die, and I don’t want our civilization to perish. That’s all.”
As this thought flashed through his mind once again, Jiang Yang slowly said, “The matter begins five days ago… Of course, that’s only for me. For all of you, it should be five days from now.
“That night, I went to a football bar…”
He clearly and plainly recounted everything he had experienced and felt, including how, after his rebirth, he had sensed a “time anchor,” and everything that made him suspect he had entered a loop.