Chapter Eight: What Does World Peace Depend On?

United Nations Parliament.

“For now, let us set aside our disputes. We have just received urgent news—humanity is facing an unprecedented crisis that we must bear together,” the spokesperson said slowly.

All the national representatives turned their eyes toward him.

“Those not directly involved, please leave the room. What we discuss next must remain strictly confidential until the dust has settled. We must avoid causing panic.”

Once the reporters and outsiders had been escorted out, only the representatives remained.

Half an hour later.

The representative from the Land of Doves was livid, shouting into his phone, “At a time like this, you’re still talking about a technological blockade? Blockade, my foot! How did you even become president? Li Daoran could get you ousted in a matter of minutes, believe it or not. Think it over, you fool.”

The Hippopotamus Brothers united as one family, bringing an end to all wars across the globe. A preliminary agreement on mutual aid, friendship, and peaceful coexistence was swiftly signed.

Soon after, renowned biopharmaceutical and genetic experts from Bluewater Planet were all escorted onto planes, their destination the Ideal State.

Humanity was already mobilizing before Chen Ming made his report; his briefing simply served as a catalyst.

The timeline rewinds to three seconds after Li Daoran’s return. As his bodily functions synchronized, the gene serum once again disseminated across all of humanity.

This time, Bluewater Planet’s advanced laboratories were fully prepared, precise to 0.01 milliseconds. Exactly three seconds after Li Daoran awoke from his dream, every laboratory participant experienced simultaneous bodily changes—tiny puncture marks appeared, and their physical attributes improved. However, the level of improvement varied. According to statistics, 13,895 laboratories participated voluntarily, with a total of 150,386 individuals involved in the experiment.

All data uploads were synchronized, down to the millisecond, with not a hint of error.

Some participants suffered from severe illnesses, others were in suboptimal health, and some were robust adults. Regardless of ethnicity or demographic, data was collected from all stages of life.

There was even experimental data on non-human creatures.

The results showed that Li Daoran’s unscientific abilities affected only humans, with no side effects detected so far. The benefits to immunity, strength, and other physical attributes were significant, though the underlying cause remained unknown. The results were deemed nothing short of miraculous.

Upon learning the outcome, all participants were moved to tears and immediately reported upward. Those monitoring the situation received the results they had been hoping for.

The United Nations assembly erupted into heated debate, a battlefield of words.

Where there is great benefit, there is great risk. With such immense, tangible rewards already realized, it was only logical to suspect an equally immense risk: if Li Daoran were to die, all of humanity might perish with him. If he were maimed in a dream, it was conceivable that humanity would become just as crippled.

Thus, the nations swiftly set aside their disputes and reached a consensus—their only option as the rear guard was unity and peace. Any who refused peace would let the people decide with their feet.

This was why the representative from the Land of Doves had said that if Li Daoran so much as spoke, the president would be out of office.

Li Daoran was oblivious to the storm he had stirred in global affairs. Having relayed the pressing situation to Chen Ming, he felt an enormous weight lift from his heart.

At that moment, he was idly browsing the internet, reading the playful comments left by netizens.

“Sis, I want a shot too. That big? I like it.”

“Thirty kilometers—just need legs? Well, mine are broken.”

“Call me the Legless Kid.”

“Hey, where are my legs? Mom, my legs are gone!”

Finding the comments amusing, he replied to a few, confident that no one would recognize him. The levity eased his mind.

Just as he was enjoying himself, Chen Ming knocked and entered.

“Come on, Savior. You’re going live soon, and you’re quite the treasure now,” Chen Ming joked lightly.

“Savior? Me?” Li Daoran pointed at himself in bewilderment.

“That’s right. Not used to it yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Let’s go; time is short and the tasks are heavy. Too many unnecessary formalities waste precious time, honestly,” Chen Ming said, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

He then dragged the still-stunned Li Daoran by the arm and hurried him along.

Li Daoran went live, receiving countless titles and awards before the whole of humanity.

He was made a lifelong senator of the Land of Doves, a first-class duke of the Land of Eagles, honorary leader of the Hippopotamus Union, Nobel Peace Prize laureate, honorary dean of dozens of universities, and so on—a cascade of accolades and honors. The dream world was christened the Daoran World, and its language, Daoranese, was designated a global lingua franca, with universal free education and online courses open to all.

Although the language system had not yet been fully deciphered, and instruction was not yet possible, the legislation was announced in advance. After all, every small step Li Daoran took was a giant leap for humanity.

The simple yet momentous awards ceremony ended, and a chest brimming with medals, certificates, titles, deeds, and shares was sealed and carried into his room.

After ending the broadcast, Li Daoran slumped in his chair with a bitter smile. Looking at Chen Ming beside him, he asked, “Is that it? Is this the power you spoke of?”

A hint of melancholy crossed his face. These things—fame, power, wealth—meant little to him.

If, in the face of crisis, all humanity could offer were these tokens, he truly did not know what to say.

Chen Ming chuckled. “Of course not. The real business is just beginning. These formalities may seem pointless and tedious, but they are necessary. Without them, what authority would you have to ask for help? This ceremony symbolizes that humanity stands together, united at last.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. So, what now?” Li Daoran pondered for a moment, then asked.

“Let’s go. Everything’s ready. They must be getting impatient.”

Chen Ming led the way, bringing Li Daoran to a small underground room. It was sparsely furnished, separated from a large adjacent room by a transparent bulletproof glass wall.

Both rooms were simple—just plain wooden tables and chairs, devoid of luxury but well-ventilated and comfortable.

The small room contained only Chen Ming and Li Daoran.

In the large room sat more than thirty people, silent and attentive, a mix of old and young, of every race.

Chen Ming didn’t introduce them one by one, but let Li Daoran review the dossiers on the table.

The world’s foremost ancient martial artist, master of countless styles—Bajiquan, Praying Mantis Fist—sat in one corner.

The military’s leading figure, Chen Ming himself, sat next to him.

The top martial artists from every nation occupied seats toward the back and center of the large room.

Apart from the combat experts, the rest were renowned specialists in biopharmaceuticals and genetics, all seated at the front.

“Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen, the fate of humanity now rests in our hands. I hope everyone will contribute their thoughts freely. You should already have a grasp of the situation we’re facing. Now, our representative David will present the first proposal and issues.”

Seated at the center, David stood, straightening his clothes and hair, to the evident displeasure of the luminaries and others in the front row.