For the first meeting of the committee, many media outlets broadcasted live to boost public confidence. Many viewers were intently watching the live feeds, only for the sound to suddenly cut out, then several committee members expressed surprise, followed by the image going dark. Many assumed it was a signal issue, and some even kicked the television set twice, yet the screen remained black. Shortly thereafter, the media switched to other programs—having already made every effort, they had hoped to rely on borrowed signals, only to find out that all media broadcasts had lost their feeds. This situation was particularly puzzling: while it was understandable for a single camera to fail, it was unlikely that dozens would fail simultaneously, especially all at once. Even if the machines failed, as long as people could be reached and there was some sound, that would have been sufficient. But the result left them once again disappointed—no one answered the phone. Outside on the corridor, a man was smoking. He tossed the half-smoked end of his cigarette into the trash can and murmured to himself, “The meeting should have been nearly over by now. I’m truly saddened and upset that the conference hall has been blown up, but it doesn’t have to cancel my vacation—this one I’ve been looking forward to all year. That’s just too much!” This man had been pulled back from his vacation, and because he was feeling upset, he had quietly stepped out to smoke. He didn’t know that it was precisely that cigarette he was holding just moments earlier that saved his life. Gently pushing open the door, the quiet inside caught his attention—something felt off. Upon closer inspection, he saw all the reporters and cameramen lying on the floor, and the committee members hunched over their desks. “What’s going on? What happened to Princess Aiko? Stay strong!” He first tried to lift the female reporter who had come with him, but she refused to cooperate. After struggling for a while, he realized she had lost her breath and was no longer breathing. He was startled and quickly reached out, placing his hand over another person's nose—same result: no breathing. Everyone was dead. At that moment, he felt his pocket, where he carried his phone, begin to vibrate. Before entering the conference room, all the attendees had been instructed to silence their phones. As he pulled out his phone, he noticed that every single person's pocket was vibrating. He picked it up, and before the other person could speak, he shouted, "Everyone's dead! Everyone's dead!" Whee! Whee! Whee!... The police arrived promptly. Forensic investigators and medical examiners conducted simultaneous on-site investigations. This incident added another layer of gloom to the already overcast mood of the Japanese public. The medical examiner quickly issued a report: "These individuals all suffered from a neurotoxin that causes death within fifteen seconds—without any pain or discomfort!" The police asked, "What about the mode of transmission?" "Air." "The forensic expert said: 'The toxin spreads rapidly through the air—even in a well-sealed room, it vanishes within three minutes. To be fatal, it only needs fifteen seconds; once inhaled, there's nothing that can save a person!' The police were stunned and exclaimed, 'This toxin should be banned worldwide—can any country even produce it?' The forensic expert blushed slightly and said quietly, 'It was already banned ten years ago. This toxin was developed by our Sun people. The Americans later acquired the technology. Aside from these two nations, no one else can produce it!' He didn't mention one more point—that after the Sun people first mastered the technology, they actively concealed it until several years later, when the Americans discovered it, at which point they were forced to officially ban it. As for whether others had secretly copied it during that period, no one knows. The police stared in disbelief, 'You're saying only our country and the Americans can produce this technology—so is it the Americans?' " "The forensic expert shook her head and said, 'This will have to be up to you to investigate!' The police were left stunned. If this information were to leak out, the Sun Nation would truly be humiliated before the world. The earlier incidents—the crash of the Eastern Sea fleet and the subsequent failure to recover it, the successive sinkings of military vessels, the armed merchant ships' incidents, and the bombing of the Sacred Temple—had already severely damaged their reputation. A little more embarrassment now would hardly matter. In the end, the police, military, and government chose to remain silent, officially explaining that a group of people had died from poisoning, though they offered no clear details about the nature of the toxin. Immediately, scholars of the esoteric sciences stepped forward, claiming this was a divine punishment—after all, the bombing of the Sacred Temple was itself a form of retribution, and it was only natural that those planning its reconstruction would now face such a fate." This narrative began spreading at an astonishing pace, and the police spent considerable effort tracing its origin—turning out to be a comment posted by a Chinese resident on a news article—only to find that the person had already returned to China, leaving the solar nation's police utterly unable to reach them. The divine toilet monks believed the matter was far more complex and suspected a connection to Qin Feng, whom they were actively seeking. A group of them became frantic in their search, uncovering numerous leads each time, only to find themselves always one step behind. Beneath a high-end office building in Tokyo, a secret laboratory was conducting experiments. Several individuals in white lab coats stood before a stainless-steel cylinder exceeding three meters in height and one point five meters in diameter. At that moment, two people approached from the side—one seated in a wheelchair, the other pushing it. The person in the wheelchair was in her sixties, with deep wrinkles and a pale complexion, appearing as though she had already begun to be half-embedded in the earth. He picked up the microphone hanging at his collar, pressed it against his throat, and spoke in a hoarse voice: "How's everything going? What stage are we at?" Immediately, the group bowed respectfully to him. The white-coated leader replied, "Mr. Chairman, everything is progressing very smoothly. If there are no unforeseen issues, we'll see tangible results very soon!" The older man managed a strained smile and said, "That's excellent. If my son truly comes back to life, each of you will receive a substantial reward!" "Thank you, Mr. Nakamura." The group bowed again. Mr. Nakamura, the second-generation leader of the Nakamura Group, had long since stepped back into the background due to paralysis and a variety of health issues, handing over the management of the large business group to his son. His son was Nakamura Jun-nan. When Nakamura Jun-nan was unexpectedly shot dead by Qin's young executive—bullet striking his heart and causing immediate death—everyone had been stunned. However, the crowd still took him to the hospital for emergency treatment, where it was found that his heart had stopped beating while his brain had not died. Through a series of emergency interventions, his brain was successfully preserved. Naoki Nakamura once again stepped forward, leveraging the social connections he had built during his youth, arranging for a top-secret technology from Germany, investing heavily in high-precision experimental equipment, and inviting several leading experts from various disciplines to launch the plan to revive his son.