Chapter 527: Chapter 32: A Single Tree Cannot Support an Entire Building
“Rainbow Winged Lord” Hadrian held a glass of white wine, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down upon the city as it grew dark.
A special agent stood behind him, reporting in a low voice, “Respected Rainbow Winged Lord—”
“Oh, sorry, I’m a bit sleepy.” Hadrian said with a smile, “You know, I’m already 97 years old, I don’t have the energy I used to. After finishing this glass I must go to bed early…”
“Please rest assured, we will handle the miscellaneous tasks. Wish you a wonderful evening.”
The agent left, and the office door closed. The Creator Realm Mage toyed with an old record player in the office, and somber symphonic music began to play, its rhythm infused with the cheerful spirit of the performers. It was the first record ever recorded by the Heraan Orchestra 50 years ago, which received poor reviews at the time due to its unconventional style of play but laid the foundation for their later international fame.
The old man swirled his glass, splashing out the liquid. The white wine formed a liquid mirror in mid-air, reflecting the bright hall filled with the shadows of the young people.
Hadrian nestled back into his comfortable chair.
“Rainy days aren’t suitable for going out, might as well listen to music, watch a play. That’s the joy of life!”
–
Two city districts away, another union elder had a different opinion. He had no mind for entertainment; he was going out on this rainy night.
Onowell Slorock adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, feeling like a defeated general from Zero Island, holding a pitiful broken sword, about to lead his ragtag troops in a last charge against the overwhelmingly victorious enemy.
Over the past two weeks, he had traveled far and wide seeking support, and the response he had gotten could only be described as pitiful. On one side was a well-connected newcomer backed by various radical factions; on the other was an old stubborn man whose heyday had passed, holding onto nothing but a patriarch’s title. Everyone knew which side to choose.
The old educator shook his head, ready to step out the door. Then the doorbell rang, and the security system informed him of the visitor’s identity.
Onowell opened the door, and in the hallway stood a familiar young man, his glass-colored golden hair now dyed pitch black, causing him a moment of disorientation.
“Mo?”
“It’s me, Principal.” Mo Yuankai smiled, “Some punks are looking for trouble, and I don’t want to cause a scene, so I came here to lay low for a while.”
Onowell looked shocked at his trump card, unable to imagine that the world’s strongest superpower user would say such things.
“What nonsense are you talking about?! There’s more than just you among my usable men! All members of the troops can—”
“I don’t want to see anyone hurt while protecting me, nor do I want to see you criticized over this matter,” Mo Yuankai said, “If someone takes the opportunity to show off, claiming that the principal is suppressing superpower users with a secret task force, it’ll be hard to quell the public opinion.”
The bald principal said in distress, “My ancestors above! Are you still worrying about others at this time?”
Mo Yuankai touched his head and sat down inside the house. Onowell said no more, understanding the man’s character. He poured his guest a cup of tea and then walked back to the door.
“Principal, you’re going out?”
“Aorus Otimis will host a meeting tonight,” Onowell said with a steely expression, “I don’t like that self-righteous kid. I’ll fight against him to the end.”
“Principal, don’t make jokes!” Mo Yuankai furrowed his brow, “How can you contend with them, alone and without support? I’ll go ask Ah Ce to be your bodyguard—”
“You all have done enough, now it’s my turn to fight.”
Mo Yuankai genuinely didn’t understand what he was talking about: “Principal, you don’t have any fighting ability.”
“I am an adult, Mo. I still have my status, wealth, and identity; these too are my credentials to fight.” Onowell’s expression was calm, “I know that means nothing in the face of superpower users’ violence, but I am still the acting representative. I cannot accept such a cold, heartless future, even if I am a nobody who must rely on your strength to act. I will fight against that arrogant young master until the end!”
Onowell walked out alone, like a prisoner rushing to his execution. Mo Yuankai watched the back of the old educator, feeling as though he was truly seeing him for the first time.
He pulled out the crumpled plan from his pocket, silently studying the content written on it. Mo Yuankai has lied to them—this was no small matter. The attackers from the Mutual Assistance Association had prepared a large amount of munitions, united nearly all the notable small gangs, and even pulled in quite a few well-known independent fighters. They were serious.
Mo Yuankai clutched his head in agony, a fatigue and powerlessness permeating his bones, as if there was no way out no matter what.
“Can you please stop talking,” he muttered neurotically, “Just stop talking!”
–
As night fell and the rain intensified, a frail high school student walked alone, holding an umbrella, his heart pounding with fear.
Home was just a 3-minute walk away, but the route took him past a certain alley entrance. Security had been steadily deteriorating these days, and even an ordinary person like him could smell the unrest in the air. A friend from Thorn District said that for several nights in a row, he had heard screams rise up; many had seen nauseating murder scenes—it seemed like a serial killer was on the loose.
Just thinking about it made his hands shake. Thankfully, this was the Central District where security was relatively better; there shouldn’t be any murders… he wouldn’t be that unlucky… he really should have joined the Mutual Assistance Association, having more people to walk with would provide some reassurance…
The alley was drawing closer, and he decided to run past quickly so he could feel at ease. He began to run, and suddenly a thick arm extended from the alley, pulling him inside! Three fierce men crammed into the small alleyway, the one who grabbed him was holding a dagger.