While Chen Feng was busy arguing with Gary over whether a Vatican "blessed" espresso machine counted as a holy relic, the rest of the world was experiencing a collective nervous breakdown.
The theft of the Manuscript of Fate had been the final straw. It wasn't just a robbery; it was a cosmic insult. In a secure, underground bunker beneath an undisclosed location in Switzerland, the Global Security Council (GSC) had convened.
The room was filled with generals, tech billionaires, and secret service directors from every major power. At the head of the table sat a hologram of Su Meiling, representing the corporate interests, and General Vance, a man whose medals had medals.
"He stole the Sun-Disk from a protected tribe," Vance roared, slamming a folder onto the table. "He bypassed the Vatican's 'Divinity Shield' with a paperclip and a joke. We have heightened security to 'Level Crimson,' and yet he just... walks through it. Does anyone have a solution that doesn't involve nuking a tourist landmark?"
"The problem," Meiling said, her voice dripping with professional frustration, "is that he isn't playing by the rules of physics. He's playing by the rules of a 1970s heist anime. We're preparing for a war; he's preparing for a punchline."
The GSC's "Final Solution" was the Aegis Net: a satellite-based grid designed to "solidify" reality in a five-mile radius around any detected Sovereign energy. It was a net designed to catch a god.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Swiss Alps, Chen Feng was currently sitting in a small, cozy cabin, wearing a pair of thick wool socks and his red blazer. He was staring at the Manuscript of Fate, which he was currently using as a very expensive coaster for his cocoa.
"You know, Gary," Chen Feng said, leaning back as the fire crackled. "I think the world is finally calming down. No one has chased us for at least six hours. I think they've finally accepted my new career path."
"Boss," Gary said, staring at a laptop screen that was flashing red alerts like a Christmas tree. "The UN just passed a resolution specifically naming you 'The Primary Threat to Planetary Stability.' There's a two-billion-dollar bounty on your 'I ❤️ Chicago' hat. Also, the US Air Force has authorized the use of experimental 'Reality-Stabilizing' missiles."
"Two billion?" Chen Feng blinked, genuinely impressed. "I didn't think the hat was worth that much. I should have stolen a better one."
"They don't want the hat, they want you!" Gary wailed. "They're building a cage that can hold a Sovereign! They're calling it 'The Void Box'!"
"The Void Box?" Chen Feng chuckled, taking a sip of his cocoa. "Sounds like a terrible name for a nightclub. Anyway, don't worry. As long as we have the Manuscript, we know exactly what they're going to do, right?"
"You haven't even read it!"
"It's blank, Gary! It's a 'choose your own adventure' book. And I choose to go to Asia for the Emperor's First Breath."
As Chen Feng laughed, he didn't notice the Manuscript beneath his mug. A drop of condensation fell from the cup and hit the blank parchment.
For a split second, the page shimmered. In an elegant, ancient script that mirrored Chen Feng's own, a single sentence appeared:
"The Thief who steals the world will eventually find that the world has stolen him."
The ink vanished before Chen Feng could see it. He was too busy trying to find a "Lupin-style" getaway vehicle that could cross the Eurasian continent without needing a gas station.
Back in Asia, the Regional Deities—ancient spirits who had hidden in the shadows of temples and mountains since the last Reset—were waking up. They didn't care about the GSC or the Aegis Net. They cared about the Emperor's First Breath, the jar of primordial energy that kept their immortality intact.
"The pretender comes," an ancient voice whispered in the depths of a shrine in Kyoto. "The one who wears the red coat and plays at being human. Let him come to the East. We shall see if his 'wit' can stand against the weight of five thousand years of divine Law."