Chapter 125
One month later, in City B’s Idealism Sect.
After a bustling morning, the noisy market finally quieted down. The once-busy street was now almost empty, with only the occasional passerby strolling by.
Despite the lack of customers, the shopkeepers didn’t look troubled. At the pastry stall, the proprietress pulled out her portable stove, lit a fire, and stretched her hands over it to warm them.
The shop owners on this street had all grown familiar with one another. Spotting the warm stove, they cheerfully brought over stools and gathered around.
The proprietress didn’t bother chasing them off. Before long, the chill from the wind had been replaced by the warmth of the fire, leaving everyone’s cheeks flushed and cozy.
They chatted idly, the atmosphere light and amicable, until someone suddenly remarked, “You know, I think life isn’t too bad nowadays.”
Everyone seemed to understand what the speaker was alluding to, and they rubbed their hands together in the glow of the flames from the stove.
No one responded immediately, and the air grew slightly awkward, the conversation stalled by unspoken thoughts.
After a while, someone finally broke the silence. “Yeah, the person who took over the Idealism Sect doesn’t seem as terrifying as people made him out to be.”
That comment seemed to dissolve the tension, and others chimed in one after another, eagerly discussing the topic.
Through their exchange, it became clear that three weeks prior, City G’s executive officer had unexpectedly visited the Idealism Sect. Surprisingly, the Pope, Xiao Qi, had allowed him to get involved in city affairs, both big and small. To some, this felt like an ominous prelude to change.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
Since Wen Xin had taken over City G, his actions had been a source of contention for many factions. Those who bore a grudge against him used the most malicious rhetoric to smear his intentions. As a result, Wen Xin became a figure of fear and loathing in the eyes of many.
Stirred up by instigators, public outrage mounted, and soon protests and demonstrations erupted.
Before things could escalate to a boiling point, the authorities acted swiftly. It was almost as if they had anticipated the chaos. The leaders of the riots were the first to be struck down by the patrol army’s decisive action. Shortly afterward, the rumor-mongers lurking in the shadows were all rooted out and dealt with.
Ordinary citizens trembled with fear, convinced that the unrest was far from over and that an even greater catastrophe was looming.
But to their surprise, a month passed, and their lives seemed largely unaffected.
Those caught in the chaos of the riots soon received financial aid. Shopkeepers whose stores had been vandalized were compensated for their losses.
After nervously enduring the initial period of adjustments, people went back to their routines. They discovered that not only had they avoided being plunged into turmoil by the regime change, but their lives had even improved under the new measures Wen Xin had implemented.
It was a simple truth—like drinking water, only the one drinking could tell if it was hot or cold.
No matter how outrageous the rumors painted Wen Xin—depicting him as worse than a devil—people could feel for themselves whether their lives were better or worse.
Among the group chatting by the fire, some had recently cursed Wen Xin’s ancestors out of fear of war. Now, when they mentioned him, their tone carried an undeniable hint of guilt and discomfort.
“As I see it,” one person said, “if the sky falls, it’s the tall ones who’ll hold it up. Why should we worry? Better to focus on living our own lives.”
Others chimed in agreement, but a hoarse voice suddenly interrupted from the corner. “But what’s Wen Xin doing here in City B instead of staying in City G where he belongs?”
Everyone turned to look and saw the speaker was the younger cousin of the steamed bun shop owner. Having fled to City B after his shelter was raided by a local faction, the young man had come to rely on his relative for survival.
Judging by his bitter tone, the others dismissed his comment, assuming he was simply resentful of all leadership figures after his recent hardships.
But the young man continued. “City B is so far from City G. If he wanted to expand his territory, wouldn’t it make more sense to target City Z or another closer city?”
“Why do you care?” someone replied dismissively. “Maybe he has a good relationship with our Pope.”
“A relationship so good he’d take over his position?” the young man sneered, his laugh resembling the grating caw of a crow. The sound sent shivers down the spine of the pastry stall proprietress, who rubbed her arms and glanced toward the steamed bun shop.
She had assumed the young man was slacking off with his cousin’s permission, but to her surprise, the shop was empty. The stout, honest-looking owner was nowhere to be seen.
Distracted, she didn’t immediately react as the young man shifted the conversation to the chaos caused by mutants.
“Everyone knows mutants come from City G,” he said, his voice growing more conspiratorial. “And that black monstrosity—able to summon thunderstorms and magma—nearly destroyed an entire city. Yet it submits to Wen Xin without question! It’s hard not to suspect that mutants and those monsters were all created by Wen Xin himself… Don’t you remember how everyone became unusually irritable and angry a while ago?”
It was less about sudden rage and more about the inexplicable disappearance of the usual sense of calm.
At the time, most couldn’t understand the strange change and, driven by panic, had sparked disturbances. Fortunately, the patrol and guard teams had acted swiftly and effectively, quelling the unrest.
Humans are remarkably adaptable creatures. Once order returned, the past irrationalities faded into the background.
But the young man wouldn’t let it rest. He linked the anomalies to the Pope, noting how several times, when the Pope had left City B, the populace’s emotions had spiraled into severe negativity.
“Have none of you ever wondered about this? Who is the Pope, really? When did he meet Wen Xin? Why did he hand over the Idealism Sect so easily to an outsider?”
A barrage of questions left everyone dazed.
Normally, they would’ve ignored such conspiracy theories, but the young man’s deliberately subdued tone seemed to infect them. Their previously relaxed expressions gave way to tension and unease.
In a shadowed corner, a candle burned silently, its sickly sweet scent wafting through the room.
Though the skies weren’t particularly dark, an invisible gloom seemed to shroud the firelit gathering.
At the mention of Wen Xin again, the group’s expressions shifted. It was as if Wen Xin had transformed in their minds—from a reformer who improved their lives to an executioner poised to use City B’s survivors as his next targets.
The grocer abruptly stood, his face pale. “This is bad! My son applied to join the patrol recently and is still in training camp. Isn’t that like handing him over on a silver platter? I need to get him out of there!”
“Go,” the young man urged, his voice laced with a sinister persuasion. “If you don’t hurry, it might be too late. What will you do if something happens to your son?”
The grocer nodded hurriedly, and as he turned to leave, the young man raised his hand. Between his fingers squirmed a tiny red worm, writhing in the light. He flicked it, aiming for the grocer’s back.
The others stared blankly, making no move to react to the strange insect.
Bang!
A gunshot shattered the stillness, and blood sprayed as the young man screamed in agony.
The sudden turn of events was like a thunderclap in a clear sky, breaking the group’s stupor. Their faces turned blank with shock before chaos erupted in screams.
“What happened?”
“Oh my God, someone’s been shot!”
The pastry stall proprietress looked on in horror, only for her terror to deepen.
The young man who had been chatting with them moments ago now had a bullet hole through his hand and chest—but he didn’t fall. Instead, his face twisted into a scorpion-like snarl. Spotting her frozen in place, he lunged at her with a venomous glare.
He’s trying to take me hostage! the woman thought in a flash of panic.
But realizing this didn’t help her. The young man, clearly of an inhuman constitution, moved with unnatural speed despite his injuries. In the blink of an eye, his fingers pressed against her throat.
The proprietress shivered, squeezing her eyes shut in terror.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing wind approached rapidly, followed by a startled shout: “The Executive Officer!”
“Sir, don’t go any closer! It’s dangerous!”
Her arm was yanked, the hand that grabbed her thin but powerful, roughened by the calluses of countless hours of handling firearms. The grip was timely and strong, pulling her away just in time.
Bang!
Another gunshot rang out. With no hostage in play, the sniper fired without hesitation, the bullet finding its mark squarely in the young man’s forehead.
The proprietress, still dazed, turned to look at her rescuer and realized with a jolt that the striking, refined face seemed oddly familiar.
The commotion subsided.
Afterward, the patrol team found the burning candle in the corner. They carefully extinguished its flame and sealed it in a bag.
The squad captain, his expression heavy, handed it to Wen Xin. “It seems to belong to the Realism Sect.”
The Realism Sect, opposed to the Idealism Sect, had made a grievous error in recruiting Tang Qi—a man whose reckless behavior not only exposed them but nearly led to their complete eradication thanks to an internal betrayal.
Nearly complete because a few had managed to escape.
Wen Xin examined the candle briefly before donning gloves. Crushing the writhing red worm underfoot, he crouched by the young man’s body and meticulously searched him. After a while, he shook his head. “Members of the Realism Sect are required to wear insignias. This man doesn’t have one.”
“If he’s not from the Realism Sect, then this hypnotic candle…” The captain’s question trailed off as another report came in: a man matching the steamed bun shop owner’s description had been found in the back kitchen.
Sadly, the man’s body was already cold—he hadn’t survived.
A heavy silence settled over the group. Wen Xin’s face darkened. “This man was an esper. Investigate when he came to City B, how he got through security, and who cleared his entry.”
“Yes, sir!”
Wen Xin stood, sparing no second glance at the corpse. As he prepared to leave, the proprietress’s voice, hesitant and trembling, called out: “Who are you…?”
He turned at the sound and met her wide, fearful eyes. She seemed ready to ask if they’d met before, but the chilling intensity of his gaze silenced her.
“Yes, we’ve met,” Wen Xin said abruptly, a rare smile gracing his lips. “I once stopped by your stall for a sesame cake. It was delicious.”
Relieved, the proprietress thanked him profusely for saving her.
It wasn’t until much later, after hearing how others addressed him, that she realized the young man standing before her was none other than the fabled Executive Officer.
As the patrol team finished securing the area and prepared to leave, Wen Xin suddenly stopped. His sharp gaze snapped toward the shadows of a second-floor balcony. “Come out!” he commanded.
Several figures bolted from the shadows, their movements frantic and disorganized—proof they hadn’t expected to be discovered.
The patrol team moved to pursue them, but a flash of lightning struck down near their path, halting them in their tracks.
“Espers!”
“How are there still espers?”
The unnamed war in City G had drastically reduced the number of espers. Of the few dozen who survived, nearly half had joined Wen Xin. The remainder had either gone into hiding or been absorbed by other factions, leaving very few unaccounted for.
Which begged the question: Where did this group of espers come from?
The commotion sent onlookers scattering in fear.
Though the espers were swift, Wen Xin, battle-hardened and relentless, quickly closed the distance between them. In desperation, one of them unleashed a bloodcurdling howl, the sound coalescing into a tangible shockwave.
Wen Xin’s stride faltered briefly, but before the esper could celebrate, he raised his gun once more.
Bang!
The wounded esper screamed and collapsed.
With one subdued, the remaining group fell into disarray, making them easy targets for the patrol team, who quickly cornered them into surrender.
Despite the arrests, Wen Xin’s expression remained grim. He hadn’t anticipated uncovering so many espers during this operation.
The squad captain approached, reporting, “Sir, only one of them has actual abilities. The others just have enhanced physical constitutions.”
“Enhanced physical constitutions?” Wen Xin repeated, his tone skeptical as his gaze flicked toward the damaged street.
The destruction spoke otherwise—reinforced concrete split and cracked under their attacks. This wasn’t something mere physical strength could explain.
The captain, too, seemed doubtful, but the reality remained that the others exhibited no discernible supernatural abilities.
It reminded Wen Xin of his own condition. After ingesting the Blue Pearl, his body had become exceptionally strong, yet he exhibited no traditional esper powers.
He turned to the captured espers, who stubbornly kept their mouths shut. “Take them in for questioning.”
As they neared the Idealism Sect’s chapel, a voice suddenly called out from behind: “Executive Officer Wen, which side are you really on?”
The question, seemingly out of nowhere, made no sense.
Wen Xin’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?”
The person who had spoken clammed up immediately, saying no more.
The captain was about to reprimand them when another figure came rushing toward them, disheveled and out of breath.
Wen Xin recognized the man—it was a messenger from Wen Jinfeng’s retinue. His face paled as he quickly approached.
“Sir, this is from the Commander! He told me to deliver it to you!”
The messenger handed over a letter and an item wrapped carefully in layers of cloth. The object was box-shaped, roughly the size of a small container.
Wen Xin didn’t immediately take it. Fixing his sharp eyes on the messenger’s face, he asked deliberately, “What happened to Wen Jinfeng?”
Translation Notes:
“Esper” refers to ability users.
In Chinese web novels “Espers” typically refers to individuals with supernatural or psychic abilities. These powers often include telekinesis, precognition, pyrokinesis, or other mental or elemental abilities that go beyond normal human limits.
