"Throw this lunatic out!"
The Foundation Chairman’s face, caked in thick foundation, twisted with rage. He waved his diamond-encrusted gavel like a general commanding an army of thousands. Around him, the impeccably dressed tycoons wore expressions of utter revulsion, looking at John as if they had found a smear of dog feces on their expensive Persian rugs.
Several elite security guards in black suits and sunglasses rushed out from the shadows, their stun batons humming with charge.
"Grab him! Don't let him ruin the atmosphere!"
John Doe stood in the center of the crowd. He didn't retreat, nor did he dodge. He simply gripped the Yin-Yang iPad tightly. His palms were slick with sweat, but his eyes were extraordinarily bright.
He looked at these so-called high-society elites.
That chemical tycoon, inheriting a century-old empire, never stepping foot on a factory floor but preaching "craftsmanship" to the media while dumping toxic waste into the slum's water source.
That female senator, climbing the ladder by marketing her "charity persona," while keeping illegal immigrants as slaves in her mansion under the guise of "providing asylum."
And that screaming Chairman, whose every luxury watch and bespoke suit was stripped from the bodies of the desperate dead.
Not a single one of them made their fortune with their own hands. They were leeches clinging to the city's veins, sucking blood and demanding gratitude from their victims.
"Truly revolting."
John whispered.
"Since you all love pretending to be human so much, I'll show you what a real 'human' looks like."
He slammed his finger onto the button on the iPad screen.
[Special Mission Bonus: For the Lives of the People]
[Merit Resonance Rate: 200%]
[Summoning...]
[Matching Responder: Ancient Greece's First Mad Dog, Grandmaster of Cynicism — Diogenes.]
[Summon Trait: Light of Truth.]
VMMM—!
There was no flashy magic circle, no earth-shattering explosion.
The blindingly brilliant crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall flickered once and dimmed into darkness. In their place, a single point of candlelight—weak as a bean, yet piercingly harsh—lit up in the center of the stage.
Under the illumination of that candlelight, a hunched figure slowly materialized.
He wore no clothes, only a dirty rag wrapped around his waist. His hair and beard were matted together like weeds. He radiated a suffocating stench of aged sweat and sewers—a smell purer and more potent than even District 13.
Diogenes.
The madman who once told Alexander the Great to "stop blocking my sunlight."
He carried a battered oil lamp, barefoot, stepping onto the priceless handmade carpet, leaving behind a trail of black, muddy footprints.
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"Where did this beggar come from?!"
A noblewoman screamed, clutching her nose. "Security! Throw him out! He reeks!"
The security guards charged.
But then, something bizarre happened.
When the lead security captain raised his stun baton to strike the old beggar, Diogenes simply lifted his lamp and shone it in the captain's face.
"I am looking for a human."
Diogenes' voice was raspy and dry, like a rusty saw cutting straight through the captain's mental defenses.
"I am looking for... an honest human."
The light illuminated the captain's eyes.
In that instant, the captain saw himself. He saw how, for the sake of this high-paying job, he had helped his boss dispose of "unspeakable" corpses in the dead of night; how he had broken the legs of poor people who came seeking justice.
Shame.
A long-lost, almost forgotten sense of shame was infinitely amplified under the [Light of Truth].
"I... I am not worthy..."
The baton fell from the captain's hand. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands, weeping bitterly.
The other guards were the same. Before that lantern, all the darkness, hypocrisy, and cruelty in their hearts had nowhere to hide. They couldn't attack, because their conscience (if they had any left) became the heaviest shackle in that moment.
"What... what kind of sorcery is this?!" The chemical tycoon backed away in terror.
Diogenes ignored the kneeling guards. Carrying his lantern, he strolled into the crowd as if walking through his own backyard.
"Make way. Don't block the light."
He walked up to the chemical tycoon and thrust the lantern right into the man’s well-maintained face.
"Hmm... that smell." Diogenes wrinkled his nose and sniffed. "Cologne can't cover the stench of corpses. You have the cries of thousands of children on you. Can't you hear them?"
The poison-dripping demon on the tycoon's back suddenly manifested, letting out a shrill scream.
"AHHH!!!" The tycoon collapsed to the floor in a pile of his own incontinence.
"Next."
Diogenes walked toward the female senator.
"What a beautiful dress." He reached out and touched the priceless silk gown, leaving a black handprint. "Pity. It's sewn from human skin, isn't it?"
The senator screamed, tearing at her own clothes as if invisible ghosts were crawling all over her.
The entire banquet hall descended into chaos.
These high-and-mighty figures, usually so poised, were now scattering like demons revealed by a magic mirror. Their pride, wealth, and status became worthless in front of this naked beggar.
"The light is too bright! Too bright!"
"Don't shine it on me! I know I was wrong!"
"I'll donate money! I'll donate ten million! Just stay away!"
Diogenes stood in the center of the hall, watching the ugly spectacle, and let out a piercing, mocking laugh.
"I see no humans."
He raised the lantern high. Its weak light now dazzled like the sun.
"Everywhere I look, there are beasts, ghosts, monsters in human skin."
"But... no humans."
John stood in the corner, watching it all.
His heart was pounding wildly.
This was the buff granted by the [Forced to Serve the People] mission. It turned Diogenes' mockery from simple verbal attacks into a judgment that struck directly at the soul.
It forced those accustomed to doing evil in the dark to face the most blinding light.
"Enough!"
The Foundation Chairman finally snapped out of it. He slammed the emergency button in his hand.
"Activate the defense system! Full power!"
The walls of the banquet hall suddenly flipped, revealing countless dark gun barrels. This was an automated defense grid prepared specifically for "extreme terrorists."
"Die! You low-class scum!" The Chairman grinned savagely. "In this world, money is truth! I have money, so I am Justice!"
The guns locked onto John and Diogenes.
John didn't dodge.
He looked at the cold muzzles, then at the billionaires rolling on the floor.
He suddenly found it ridiculous.
"Bone," John whispered into his earpiece.
"Here, Boss." A dull thud came from the kitchen—the sound of a door being kicked open.
"Do it."
John raised the iPad—his final card, and his resolve to go all in.
"Since they don't want dignity, let's help them... lose it completely!"
BOOM!
The wall of the kitchen shattered.
A skeletal giant wearing a bursting-at-the-seams waiter's uniform charged out, wielding two massive silver serving platters as shields.
"ORDER UP!!!"
Bone roared, hurling the platters like frisbees at the automated turrets.
Simultaneously, John didn't stay idle.
He sprinted toward the display case.
The crystal case holding the [Supreme Redemption Voucher].
"That's mine!" The Chairman shrieked.
"No."
John smashed the crystal case with a punch—the heaviest punch he had ever thrown in his life, even as glass shredded the back of his hand, blood dripping freely.
He grabbed the parchment.
"This belongs to... everyone!"
"Grace! Transfer!"
"Roger!"
John slammed the priceless Redemption Voucher directly onto the flame of Diogenes' lantern.
Whoosh—
Fire swallowed the paper.
It wasn't destruction.
It was conversion.
It was converting this hypocritical "Redemption" into tangible, life-saving "Merit," and then...
Returning it to the city.
[System Status]:
Physical Realm (Royal Road): Connection Unstable / Paused.
Spirit Realm (Patreon): 20+ Chapters Online / Stable.
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