On the internet, a fierce war of public opinion was ignited.
However, neither the internet trolls stirring up trouble nor the condescending foreign media could have imagined.
The clamor and quarrels of the online world were like foam on the ocean surface; though seemingly grand, they had no effect whatsoever on the immense power beneath the deep sea that drove the entire national machinery into roaring motion.
In reality, countless people had already begun to rush about, driven by that highest directive.
In an old residential compound in a heavy industrial city in the north, Peter Cole, over fifty years old, had just picked up his rice bowl when the piercing telephone rang.
"Hello, who is it?"
"It's me, Harvey. Peter, are you busy right now?"
On the other end of the line was his former colleague, his voice laced with an irrepressible excitement.
Peter's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly put down his bowl and cutlery.
"No... no, I'm not busy. What's wrong?"
"The factory, it's alive again."
Harvey's voice sounded as if he had been injected with a stimulant.
"The higher-ups have given a death order for us to return to our posts immediately. They said a large batch of new fuel is arriving soon, and the quantity will be enormous. Are you free? Come back quickly."
Boom!
Cole's mind felt as if it had been struck by lightning; he was completely stunned, and the hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably.
The factory was alive?
That home where he had worked for thirty years, watching it go from glory to silence, and finally sealed away—it was alive?
"Yes, I'm free, I'll go back right away."
He practically roared his answer.
"Alright, then hurry up. I'm going to call the others. It's alive, our factory is finally alive!"
The call was hastily cut off, leaving only the busy signal.
"It's alive, good, it's good that it's alive."
Peter murmured, hot tears instantly welling up in his cloudy old eyes.
He knew that if the factory was alive, his home would also be alive.
He no longer hesitated, rushing into the bedroom and dragging out a dusty toolbox from under the bed—it was a treasure he had brought back when he was laid off.
He meticulously wiped every inch of it with his sleeve, as if caressing a long-lost relative.
Putting on his faded blue work uniform and safety helmet, he finally gently pushed open the door to another bedroom, looking at his sleeping wife and child doing homework on the bed, a long-lost, heartfelt smile appearing on his face.
He didn't disturb them, just quietly closed the door and left.
Under the sunlight, there were thousands upon thousands of people like Peter.
They emerged from every corner of the city, from different homes, converging into silent yet determined torrents, rushing towards the long-dormant factories.
Meanwhile, the massive convoy commanded by Pedro had already arrived at the secret railway hub located underground in the city.
The area had long been fully taken over by heavily armed troops, and the air was thick with a chilling atmosphere.
One by one, heavy trucks were guided into a huge underground platform.
Here, rows of special freight trains, without windows and entirely made of special alloys, resembling steel behemoths, were quietly waiting.
Giant gantry cranes precisely lifted the blocks shining with golden or gray light from the trucks, then steadily placed them into the train's cargo compartments.
Accompanied by a long whistle, the first train loaded with resources slowly departed, traveling along the secret underground railway network, heading towards military factories, smelting centers, and scientific research institutes across the country.
The Fortress, cafeteria.
Steve and General Randy walked out of the conference room, which was still debating various details, and headed towards the cafeteria.
Along the way, General Randy looked at the young man beside him, whose face was still youthful but whose eyes were as deep as the starry sky, and couldn't help but exclaim.
"Steve, how is it? Are you used to this kind of life?"
He said with a hint of humor.
"If you hadn't gotten that magical Portal, you'd probably be dozing off in a university classroom right now."
"It's good, Randy."
Steve smiled and nodded.
But he was thinking of something else.
Having lived two lives, he had already attended university twice, and he no longer had any interest in that kind of life.
In contrast, the feeling of being able to personally propel a country, a civilization, forward at high speed was what truly made his blood boil.
After a simple dinner, the two didn't rest but went directly to the base's Command Center.
The huge curved screen displayed real-time data and surveillance footage from various dimensions.
On one of the screens, there were several real-time overhead views of the Minecraft World.
Although Steve could check the entire world's movements at any time, projecting the views of several key construction areas to allow the Command Center's professional team to monitor and coordinate 24/7 would undoubtedly greatly improve efficiency.
And directly below the Command Center, within a massive training ground, an experiment capable of revolutionizing the future of warfare was currently underway.
"Report, Shadow Marine Unit, equipment change complete."
With a report, five hundred slender warriors, with strangely black skin and eyes glowing with purple light, lined up in perfect formation.
They were the first batch of elite soldiers who had successfully and perfectly merged with Enderman bodies.
A group of ordnance experts were equipping them with newly modified special firearms.
Because Endermen's arms, though block-shaped, had a completely different structure and size from Zombies, these firearms were specially designed, with triggers, grips, and even aiming systems fully adapted to their unique body structure.
Whoosh!
An Enderman warrior raised a futuristic-looking sniper rifle. The next second, his figure instantly transformed into a cloud of purple smoke, vanishing from his original spot.
One-tenth of a second later, he had reappeared behind another cover a hundred meters away, his muzzle steadily aimed at the distant bullseye.
The entire process was silent and too fast for the naked eye to catch.
"This is a true battlefield god."
General Randy looked at this scene on the screen and couldn't help but express his heartfelt admiration.
Infinite teleportation, appearing and disappearing unpredictably.
Imagine, when the enemy is fiercely exchanging fire with you, your target in front of you can disappear in an instant, then reappear behind you, above your head, any unexpected death corner.
How can this battle even be fought?
This isn't sneaky; this is a dimensionality reduction strike.
"Prepare to enter the World Zeta for reconnaissance and clearance."
Steve looked at this unit, which had initially formed its combat power, and calmly issued the order.
"Yes."
Soon, the five hundred Enderman warriors, without hesitation, marched in neat steps, holding their instruments of slaughter, towards the Portal.