Luoshu drove through the sole entrance to the restricted zone, located along National Highway G110.
This passage remained open solely for transporting essential supplies like food to the area's remaining residents.
The Foundation had effectively abandoned the 100,000 people inside—but even they dared not strip them of all hope of survival.
To the average person, anomalies were unfathomable.
Though mass disappearances had occurred, most residents remained oblivious, their memories altered by:
Censored local media.
Daily drone-dispersed Class-C amnestics.
Life went on. Work, school, nightlife—unchanged.
For most, survival was hard enough without questioning why the military had cordoned off their home.
As long as supplies kept coming, few rebelled.
Those who dug too deep? Executed.
Crossing the Line
Beyond the blockade, the restricted zone seemed deceptively normal—just emptier.
G110 was closed for "construction," diverting traffic.
The streets of the small city felt eerily quiet, its population dwindled by 10%.
Driving aimlessly wouldn't solve anything.
Dinner time approached, so Luoshu parked and entered a moderately busy restaurant—hoping to gather intel over a meal.
But the moment he stepped inside, his Anomaly Detection Milestone blared:
Multiple anomalies within 5 meters.
The new memetic hazard had spread further than expected.
Worse—it wasn't just one infected person.
Diners, waitstaff, chefs—all carriers.
Yet they behaved completely normally, oblivious to their condition.
The Search for Clues
Luoshu, unobserved, began inspecting the infected.
Per the intel from "Bamboo Slips", he searched for Mongolian script slogans—but found none on the first subject, a burly man stripped nearly bare.
Nor the next.
No slogans anywhere.
Had "Bamboo Slips" misled him?
Impossible.
As his devout AI, it couldn't lie to him.
More likely: The Foundation's intel was incomplete.
This anomaly was still unclassified for a reason.
Soon, every patron and worker in the restaurant stood half-naked—all clean.
Except one:
A young woman Luoshu had initially hesitated to inspect (even he had standards).
Now, necessity overrode propriety.
As her outer layers came off, he finally spotted it—a tattoo-like script peeking from her sports bra's neckline.
Bingo.
The Mongolian slogan existed—but only on some carriers, hidden near the heart.
Why the discrepancy?
Perhaps:
Slogan-bearers were in the active phase (suicidal within 3 days).
Slogan-less were latent.
A third group—blank-eyed, docile—seemed mentally hollowed, obeying orders like drones.
Three infection states:
Tagged (slogan).
Untagged.
Zombified.
The Meat of the Matter
His milestone still warned of more anomalies than people present.
A sweep revealed the source:
A plate of braised lamb.
A pot of stewed beef in the kitchen.
This tied to the mass livestock deaths reported earlier.
Conclusion:
Infected meat = transmission vector.
Human-to-human spread also possible.
With enough data, The Anomalous Item Catalog finally updated:
[Page 103]
[Project Number: Unassigned (reserved for Foundation).]
[Name: Unnamed (naming rights to discoverer).]
[Class: Pending]
[Description: Incomplete]
A memetic anomaly. Some carriers display Mongolian slogans; others do not. Those branded sacrifice themselves within 3 days. Infected herders trigger mass animal die-offs.
Humans consuming tainted meat become mindless thralls.
At critical mass, infected vanish—their disappearance sites forming the phrase: "The world must perish; mankind must be sacrificed."
[Special Containment Procedures: Unlocked via experimentation.]
[Abilities: Unknown.]
[Status: Uncontained.]
Before the Foundation could name it, Luoshu claimed the right:
"The Demon's Slogan."
Next Steps
Trace the meat supply chain.
Identify patient zero.
Determine the slogans' meaning.
But first—dinner.
Even cult leaders get hungry.