Boom!

An explosion suddenly erupted not far away, startling the birds perched in the trees into flight.

The man wasn’t fazed. He calmly took a drag from his cigarette.

“...Hah.” He exhaled a ring of smoke, lazily lifting his eyelids. “Tell those sparring idiots to control their strength.”

“Yes.” One of his subordinates replied.

Another man, with black hair and red eyes, silently stepped a few paces to the side.

“Still don’t like smoking?” The man crushed the cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray.

“Smoking causes cancer.” The black-haired man replied.

“Heh, doesn’t matter to me.” The man chuckled. “But if I remember correctly, you had your rebellious phase too. Back in high school, you smoked as well… then quit. Because of your girlfriend, right?”

The black-haired man said nothing. He simply reached up and touched the black choker around his neck.

“My bad, I shouldn’t have brought that up. You did say your girlfriend is already dead… what a pity. I still don’t know who she was.” The man stood up and walked toward the typewriter placed on the table.

The typewriter sat there quietly, motionless.

“No instructions today either. How boring.” The man lit another cigarette.

The black-haired man—Yan Yuhuai—looked at the typewriter. This was the Divine Artifact. Over this period of time, the organization had been acting entirely based on its commands.

Those who didn’t follow its instructions were now being interrogated by the police and the Three Great Families—the ones who attacked members of the families before the banquet.

Driven by their own grievances and incited by the Powerless Organization, they had taken matters into their own hands. Now, Yan Yuhuai reasonably suspected that the higher-ups had deliberately allowed this to happen—to reduce suspicion toward the artifact.

“You seem to have quite a few questions about the artifact.” The man said. “Go ahead. I graciously allow you to ask.”

Yan Yuhuai looked at the man—Delbert, the current leader of the Powerless Organization.

“Are its commands truly the will of a god?” Yan Yuhuai asked.

Delbert lifted his gaze. The look in his eyes sent a chill down Yan Yuhuai’s spine.

“If anyone else asked that, I’d kill them. But not you. Because I know—you’re not here because you believe in gods.”

“Whether it’s divine will or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that it will lead us to victory.”

Yan Yuhuai turned his gaze back to the Divine Artifact. It looked utterly ordinary, but he knew how extraordinary it truly was. It could withstand his full-force attack without a single scratch—this alone made it anything but normal.

Another question surfaced in his mind.

Did that god truly exist?

The so-called nineteenth god—not among the existing eighteen—the Primordial God said to have created heaven and earth.

There were no records about this being. Only the legend of its creation remained.

“I can tell you’re still confused, but I have no obligation to answer.” Delbert waved his hand, signaling that Yan Yuhuai could leave.

“Don’t you have a match in a few days? Whether or not you intend to let your family win, you should at least prepare.”

“Yan Yuhuai.”

Lost in thought, Yan Yuhuai suddenly heard his name and snapped back to reality.

“...Yan Yining, Yan Yaonan, Yan Yutong, Yan Youan, Yan Hong, Yan Shengyuan, Yan Liquan—eight participants in total. Anyone not called?” Yan Yaonan scanned the group in the training ground.

“No.” Yan Youan replied.

“Good. Tomorrow is the competition. It may be a friendly exchange, but that doesn’t mean the result doesn’t matter. If you lose too badly, the family head won’t let it slide.”

So they’ve already assumed we can’t take first place?

Well, the gap between the Yan family and the Haruwa and Hayes families is obvious. Defeat seems inevitable.

Still… if the council had allowed members of the reformist faction to participate, there might have been a chance.

“I don’t really care about winning or losing.” Yan Yuhuai said casually.

“I don’t think it’s about whether you care or not.” Yan Yining replied. “If I remember correctly, at the last Three Great Families meeting, the Yan family was the first to be completely eliminated in Three Great Famalies. And this time, there’s someone else targeting us.”

And that person… was someone they knew well.

Yan Hong didn’t catch their conversation, but seeing that neither Yan Yuhuai nor Yan Yining moved, he shot them a look. “Why are you two still chatting?”

“If you love talking so much, are you planning to drown your opponent in spit?” Yan Shengyuan mocked.

Yan Yining clicked her tongue and summoned a submachine gun with her ability. “Who knows? Maybe someone with an ocean affinity could actually do that.”

Yan Yuhuai laughed. “That would be… rather inelegant.”

Yan Yining smiled, raising the gun and pointing it at him. “Oh? But so what? Whether it’s you or me, we’ve both done some pretty inelegant things, haven’t we?”

Bang!

Her opponent staggered, coughed up blood, and collapsed.

“Yan Yining wins the semifinal.” The recording teacher announced.

This was the Yan family’s internal one-on-one tournament for members aged fifteen to eighteen. It had now reached the semifinals.

“Senior actually lost… Are the first-years this year really that strong?” one eliminated participant said.

“You’re only realizing that now? Three out of the top four are first-years. Isn’t that enough proof?” his friend replied.

“These three already had a reputation as geniuses. Looks like it wasn’t just hype.”

The spectators whispered among themselves.

Unseen by them, Yan Tianli was watching from afar.

“Mom, I won!” Yan Yining said excitedly to Yan Wanyi.

Yan Wanyi curved her lips slightly, then turned away expressionlessly. “Don’t celebrate too early. You still have the finals.”

“Well, at least I’m second place, not third.” Yan Yining said.

“You’re satisfied with second? People only remember first place! Tch, no ambition at all. Do you get the same level of attention from teachers as those two?” Yan Wanyi sat down, looking at her. “Also, your control needs work. That last strike was too heavy—your opponent is seriously injured. People will criticize that.”

Yan Yining lowered her head. “Understood.”

But… isn’t the opponent’s condition more important?

She glanced at the injured opponent receiving treatment, then turned her gaze back to the arena. Another semifinal match was underway.

Yan Yuhuai faced Mo Ying.

Though they had been classmates for three years, this was their first real battle.

“In written exams, I’m not your equal. But in combat… that’s another story.” Yan Yuhuai said.

Their direct confrontation was new, but in practical training courses, Mo Ying had consistently outperformed him overall.

Still, everyone knew that combat ability couldn’t be judged purely by grades. Experience, adaptability—these were things that couldn’t be fully captured on paper.

“I know. Let’s see who’s stronger.” Mo Ying replied.

As the referee signaled the start, Yan Yuhuai wielded a longsword, while Mo Ying used a whip as her primary weapon and a pistol as support.

Their fighting styles were vastly different from Yan Yining’s.

With a swing of his sword, flames engulfed the blade—blue flames, far hotter than ordinary fire.

Mo Ying was faster. Her whip lashed out toward his wrist. It was crimson, formed from her ability, resembling a nine-section whip but capable of extending freely.

Yan Yuhuai seemed to anticipate it. He stepped back, narrowly avoiding the strike, then thrust forward.

In an instant, Mo Ying saw multiple blades stabbing toward her—afterimages created by sheer speed.

Amid the illusions, a hum sounded as several flying swords shot toward her.

His fighting style resembled that of cultivators from xianxia novels.

Though technically cold weapons, under ability enhancement, their power surpassed bullets—only their speed was slightly slower.

Because of that, Mo Ying used a displacement movement to evade. But the swords adjusted mid-flight, still pursuing her.

“Guaranteed hit?” Yan Yining murmured.

One of Yan Yuhuai’s abilities: Guaranteed Hit. Any ranged attack he used would strike its target, regardless of movement—even teleportation couldn’t evade it.

Since evasion was impossible, Mo Ying pulled her whip back to block. A faint clash sounded—the trajectory shifted briefly before correcting itself.

She knew it wouldn’t work. It was only meant to reduce the impact.

Her free hand formed a gun gesture.

A red point of light appeared in front of the incoming swords—

Boom!

The explosion obliterated them instantly.

Yan Yuhuai leapt aside. Another red point appeared where he had just stood—

Boom!

Mo Ying’s ability: Bomber. In simple terms, she could continuously generate explosions.

“What a hassle… your instincts.” Mo Ying said.

His dodges weren’t purely reflex—they came from another ability: Combat Instinct, allowing him to sense incoming attacks in advance.

Some believed it to be a fate-type ability, but Yan Yuhuai insisted it was more of a sensation than foresight—thus classified under war affinity.

“Senior, they’re both your friends. Who do you want to win?” Yan You’an asked from the side.

“...Neither.” Yan Yining replied, narrowing her eyes as she watched Mo Ying.

“Fair enough. If they both end up badly injured, you’ll get first place by default.” Yan You’an said.