Chapter Sixty: My Plea

Thunder pierced the heart of the heavens.

The young man stood beneath the raging storm, his silhouette illuminated by lightning, as if he were the master of this domain.

A demigod.

A human demigod.

Upon hearing Lin Fan’s answer, the blonde woman froze, her face twisted in terror.

“Impossible, impossible!” she suddenly shrieked, staring at Lin Fan with wild eyes. “You can’t be a demigod!”

“The strongest four of my Phoenix Society are only at the ninth tier!”

Yet before Lin Fan could respond, the blonde woman abruptly fell silent.

Because she suddenly recalled—in just the few seconds prior, this youth had slain two of her society’s strongest. Counting herself, that made three.

For a moment, gazing at the boy before her, the blonde woman’s body began to tremble.

Could it be that Great Xia had produced a demigod?

How could this be?

The Phoenix Society originated in Europe and America, more precisely, from the Salvation Order—a group that believed exceptional people should rule over the ordinary. For more than a century, they had pursued human genetic modification in their quest for “excellence,” and only recently did their stagnant experiments yield dozens of successful cases.

The strongest among them reached the ninth tier—those four individuals.

But Great Xia, with no precedent for genetic modification, had somehow produced a demigod?

And now the Phoenix Society found itself opposed to such a being?

Fear flooded the blonde woman’s eyes, and her voice quivered. “Perhaps we could negotiate a deal…”

A flash.

Her words were cut short.

The blade gleamed.

Her head tumbled to the ground.

Shock and disbelief remained etched upon her pale face, not yet comprehending what had transpired. Her body, headless, still stood in the rain-soaked night, poised as if to take another step.

Behind her, Lin Fan held his bloodstained short blade, crimson drops cascading like strings of pearls.

Rain dripped from his hair as he stood unmoving in the storm, expressionless. “My only demand is this: those who trespass upon Great Xia shall die.”

Thunder crashed once more.

Lin Fan flicked the blood from his blade, sheathed it, and turned to regard the headless corpse.

“What do you think of that transaction?”

The headless body collapsed with a resounding splash into the puddles.

Lin Fan turned his gaze toward the red-haired girl cowering in the distance and the unconscious Gongshu Ming.

Rain blurred her vision; the girl could not see Lin Fan’s movements.

Suddenly, the downpour shattered, and the youth who seemed a god of death stood before her.

“Don’t kill me!” she cried, terror-stricken, raising her hands before her in defense.

Flames flickered along her arms, but exhaustion from her escape and the relentless rain left only feeble sparks.

The boy was terrifying.

She had watched, wide-eyed, as Lin Fan killed three pursuers without a flicker of emotion.

She had felt firsthand how powerful those three were.

Yet in Lin Fan’s eyes, they were mere ants, exterminated without a ripple of feeling.

It was as if he himself were a blade—emotionless, knowing only slaughter.

But—

“It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

The girl looked up to find the cold youth wearing a slight, reassuring smile.

With him near, safety seemed absolute.

For a moment, she sensed a contradiction in the youth before her.

On one hand, he was a merciless killing machine.

On the other, he was like a gentle elder brother next door.

It was difficult to imagine what he had endured to become this way.

…

On the bus returning home.

Gongshu Ming lay weakly, a life-saving pill in his mouth, grumbling to Lin Fan, “You were way too fierce just now—you scared that poor girl half to death.”

He continued, half-serious, “Maybe I should pay for you to see a psychologist.”

“If you’d lived through what I have, you’d become a blade too,” Lin Fan replied, expressionless, wiping his short knife. “Sometimes, by killing one, more can live.”

Meanwhile—

In the Free Nation, within the white palace symbolizing power!

“Jill is dead?” Pu Chuan’s corpulent frame sat in a chair, roaring furiously at the screen before him.

“Dead,” nodded John, the Britannia’s chief. “Our ambassador witnessed it firsthand—killed by Lin Fan.”

“Our ambassador as well,” said A San, chief of the Indus White Elephant Nation, his expression complex.

“Then—why didn’t our joint fleet intervene…” Pu Chuan clenched his teeth, but then received a video file.

It was from a surviving Free Nation warship.

On the vast sea, storm clouds hung low, as if the heavens themselves threatened to descend.

A thousand warships mobilized, missiles raised and pointed at Great Xia’s border, ready to launch.

The threat was unmistakable.

This was the final step in Pu Chuan and the other chiefs’ plan—to use Great Xia’s peril to force their representative to sign a treaty of territorial surrender.

It all seemed to be going smoothly.

Though powerful, Great Xia’s military could not match the combined might of the world’s nations.

Even if they could resist, how many missiles could they intercept in a surprise attack?

Any that slipped through would turn Great Xia’s cities into ruins.

“Everything seems smooth…” Pu Chuan muttered, confused.

But at that moment—

A beam of light shot from Great Xia’s direction, streaking across the sky!

A dazzling flash!

It was—a blade’s light!

In a single instant, all the world seemed to contain only this blinding brilliance.

The storm clouds pressing upon Great Xia split in two.

The sea itself was cleaved.

At the same time, the warships struck by the light were sliced cleanly, halves drifting apart.

The footage even captured the officer about to press the launch button, and his ship, split down the middle.

Upon the sea, the youth stood with blade in hand.

A thunderous roar, like the wrath of the heavens, erupted:

“Those who offend Great Xia, no matter how distant, will be punished!”

“This…” Pu Chuan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Reports from our surviving officers suggest that Great Xia possesses terrifying power,” John of Britannia said gravely. “At the very least, individuals of extraordinary martial strength.”

“Until we understand how Great Xia achieved this, I am not inclined to wage war with them.”

John rubbed his brow.

Silence reigned.

Just then, a white youth wearing a red cloak emblazoned with a blazing phoenix pushed open the door to Pu Chuan’s office.

“Chief Pu Chuan,” the youth said, refined and proud, “I can explain how that man accomplished this.”