12dz Chapter 97 The General Collapses: We Seem to Have Stumbled into a Mythical Kindergarten!
Chapter 97 The General Collapses: We Seem to Have Stumbled into a Mythical Kindergarten!
A chilling sensation crept up General Armstrong’s spine and up to the top of his head.
He was a veteran of countless battles, having dealt with at least eighty or a hundred supernatural incidents, from bloodthirsty werewolves to cunning vampires, from weather-controlling mutants to extradimensional monsters, he had personally sent them all to their doom.
But the scene before him had completely shattered his understanding.
What kind of monsters live in this courtyard?
Is this a large offline gathering of role-playing enthusiasts from a certain cult?
But the frantically flashing blood-red gibberish in his tactical goggles was telling him in the coldest way that everyone here was a terrifying being capable of easily tearing his elite squad to shreds!
Especially those twelve guys clad in golden armor.
The energy fluctuations emanating from them were not data to his sensors at all, but twelve living, miniature suns undergoing nuclear fusion!
Fiery, magnificent, sacred.
Just staring at those data made Armstrong feel like his optic nerves were about to burn out.
"General, what...what should we do?"
Behind him, an Alpha team member's voice trembled uncontrollably.
What should I do?
I also want to know what to do!
General Armstrong's tactical brain, aided by a supercomputer, was now operating at an unprecedented speed.
Those damn incompetent idiots in the intelligence department!
They only said that this place was the center of energy fluctuations and that there might be an out-of-control ancient artifact here.
But can anyone tell me why there are so many living "ancient relics" here?!
Just as he was caught in a dilemma, one of the twelve "golden suns" stood up.
Aiolia of Leo.
He had just gained a new understanding of the relationship between "work" and "spiritual practice" under the "guidance" of his companions, and was worried about not having any projects to put his new theories into practice.
Now, the project is here!
"Hahaha! Finally, it's our security department's turn!"
Aiolia let out an excited laugh he couldn't contain. He strode to the center of the yard, cracking his wrists with a popping sound like popping beans.
He didn't even glance at Armstrong and the others, but instead, addressing the other Gold Saints, he declared with great pride:
"We've taken care of the gardening crew with knives, and the logistics guys with their magic tricks. Now, it's time for us professional security guards to deal with these tin cans, isn't it?"
"Aiolia, you're too impatient."
Scorpio Milo also stood up, his scarlet fingernails gleaming deadly in the sunlight.
"For targets covered in full armor like these, my 'Scarlet Needle' is the optimal solution. It can precisely destroy their joints and energy cores, achieving harmless disposal at the lowest cost and minimizing asset damage. This KPI should be mine."
"Milo, you're wrong about that," Aldebaran of Taurus retorted in a gruff voice. "These guys look tough enough to take a beating. We should use my strongest power and defense to show them what an impenetrable fortress looks like! Only by defeating them head-on can we maximize the security capabilities of our courtyard and deter any troublemakers!"
"Stop arguing!"
Mu of Aries, the wisest among the Saints, spoke slowly, his voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable authority.
"The master's order is for us to keep the yard quiet. I'm the most suitable person to deal with this kind of technological enemy. I'll use my 'Crystal Wall' to silently isolate them, and then use 'Starlight Extinction' to precisely teleport them to the center of the Pacific Ocean. This way, we won't damage a single plant in the yard, nor will we disturb the neighbors. This is the most perfect solution."
"..."
The twelve Gold Saints, one after another, started arguing fiercely on the spot about who should take action and whose plan was better.
The atmosphere didn't feel like facing a group of heavily armed super soldiers; it was more like a project seminar on how to efficiently complete a quarterly task.
The constant use of terms like "KPI," "cost," "solution," and "asset depreciation" left General Armstrong and his team completely bewildered.
Who exactly are these people?
Are they employees of some mysterious company?
Who is their boss?
General Armstrong's gaze involuntarily drifted past the "golden suns" and landed on the young man who had remained lying in his chair the entire time, without even lifting his eyelids.
Intuition was screaming at him with all its might.
That seemingly harmless young man is actually the eye of the storm here.
Just as the Saint Seiya warriors were arguing heatedly, almost coming to blows over "ownership of the project," Lin Fan, sitting on the recliner, finally got a little annoyed by the noise.
He slowly sat up, yawned deeply, and looked sleepily at the group of incredibly energetic "employees" in front of him.
"What's all the noise about?"
His voice was soft, with a hint of hoarseness and impatience from just waking up.
"They're cawing like a flock of crows so early in the morning, can't a person even get a chance to sleep in?"
When he spoke, time seemed to stand still in the entire courtyard.
The twelve Gold Saints, who were tense and ready to fight just a second ago, immediately lowered their heads and stood respectfully like elementary school students caught passing notes in class by their teacher.
"Sir, we were wrong." Mu said on behalf of everyone, his tone filled with shame.
"Alright, alright."
Lin Fan waved his hand impatiently. He glanced at the group of "tin cans" at the door that had been completely petrified, and felt his head ache even more.
"Isn't it just about stretching my muscles and making a good impression? It's no big deal."
He said casually:
"Alright, stop arguing. It makes it seem like our company is poorly managed and has no rules."
"Rock, paper, scissors".
"Best of three, winner goes. Let's finish this quickly, don't keep me from having my morning tea."
Stone……
Scissors……
cloth?
When those five words clearly reached their ears, everyone present, except for Lin Fan, had their thoughts completely frozen.
General Armstrong felt that his brain processor might have overheated and burned out.
Let these twelve godlike beings decide who will fight a battle by playing rock-paper-scissors?
What a ridiculous... game!
Do not!
What utter contempt this is!
After a brief period of silence, the twelve Gold Saints actually... accepted the proposal.
"Sir, you are wise!"
Aiolia was the first to react, his eyes shining, and he exclaimed, "This method is the fairest and most efficient! It perfectly embodies the principle of competitive selection! I agree!"
"The greatest truths are the simplest! Your wisdom is indeed unfathomable! I agree!"
"I second that!"
Immediately, voices of approval rose and fell.
In their view, every decision the gentleman made contained the ultimate truth of the universe. Resolving disputes in this simplest and purest way was the ultimate manifestation of the "Tao"!
And so, under the utterly bewildered gazes of General Armstrong and his men...
Twelve golden warriors, great enough to be recorded in mythological epics, truly formed a circle.
Then, solemnly, they extended their right hands.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
The scene was sacred, solemn, yet utterly absurd.
In the end, amidst sighs of regret and envy, Leo's Aiolia won this precious "opportunity" by a narrow margin.
"Awooo—!!"
He roared excitedly to the sky, the sound waves making the air hum, as if he had won not just a game of rock-paper-scissors, but the throne of the entire divine realm.
He whirled around, his golden pupils burning with a molten battle intent, locking onto the group of super soldiers at the door who had fallen into complete self-doubt.
"You bunch of tin cans!"
"Are you ready to be purified by the lion's wrath?!"
General Armstrong looked at the "Golden Madman" in front of him, who was overjoyed at winning the rock-paper-scissors game, and then at the eleven "Golden Madmen" behind him, whose faces were full of envy, jealousy and hatred.
His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, producing only a dry, grinding sound.
He raised his trembling hand and, into the communicator, issued the most incomprehensible command of his life in a broken, almost delirious voice.
"Headquarters...headquarters...requesting...requesting tactical guidance..."
"We...we seem to have stumbled into a kindergarten from a mythical era..."