Published: March 2, 2025
“Fang Bai, come with me. I will take you to the peak, to see the scenery you could never imagine.”
A hint of eagerness and desire flashed in the celestial god’s eyes as he faced Fang Bai, feeling a stir in his heart.
A man who values loyalty, who has always seen himself as an elder brother, a super warrior of extraordinary strength, comparable to himself, a commander in Beijing whose words could sway the winds and clouds.
From any angle, Fang Bai was an extremely useful piece in the celestial god’s game. The current situation, described as internal and external troubles, barely scratched the surface of the celestial god's predicament—plans had been set in motion, and the situation had already been exposed. Beijing could no longer accommodate him, and even Wen Yu, the owner of the soul puppet legion, could not tolerate him. If Wen Yu could not tolerate him, it meant that the entire world would not accept him either. Meanwhile, there were significant disputes within the organization, and once Tang Haofei was released, his position would inevitably decline.
Ultimately, the celestial god was not a true god. Compared to Tang Haofei and Wen Yu, he was merely an ant. Yet, even ants strive to survive, and to achieve his ultimate goal, Fang Bai would serve as an excellent ally.
Thus, the celestial god spoke in a prolonged tone.
“Fang Bai, don’t you think that this vast Beijing is just a joke?”
Upon hearing the celestial god’s words, Fang Bai’s breath hitched, and his expression turned grim as he fell silent.
“The old man is very smart. He single-handedly uplifted Beijing to this level. Neither Tang Haofei nor Wen Yu can match his intelligence or cunning. But there is one problem.”
The celestial god stared intently at Fang Bai, shifting the topic to another matter.
“Do you know how I died?”
Fang Bai remained perplexed, unable to keep up with the celestial god’s train of thought—men from the Lin family were, in many ways, more than just excellent.
“I was stomped to death by Wen Yu in Las Vegas.”
As he spoke about his death, the celestial god’s expression was devoid of emotion, yet the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—being crushed like an ant was not a pleasant experience.
“This was an occupational hazard. Yes, according to today’s terms, this is glory, a glorious death in battle. After all, I died during a mission. I don’t need Beijing to avenge me, nor do I need a monument to commemorate my death. When a person dies, they’re just dead. But by some twist of fate, I came back to life. Initially, I wanted to put this incident behind me and be the guardian of this Beijing gathering place, but the scene of my death, along with the developments in Beijing over the past five years, and Wen Yu’s every move, have compelled me to ponder one question.”
“What value do our efforts truly hold?”
“Do you know, Fang Bai, my death had no value, and the sacrifices of the warriors in the Beijing gathering place also held no value. Even the old man’s efforts were worthless. Yes, he transformed Beijing into the most powerful military group in the world, but that means nothing under the oppression of individual strength. Just look at Lin Haifeng now; he has great passion and intricate calculations in his mind, yet he is constrained in action, afraid to offend Wen Yu. Why? Because he knows his efforts are futile. He shouts empty slogans for the human race, to defeat the demonic clan—nonsense… He doesn’t need to defeat the demonic clan because as long as Wen Yu wants to, I guarantee the soldiers of Beijing won’t even catch sight of a single demonic spawn. Do you know why Beijing still exists? It’s only because Wen Yu needs the teleportation passage to Eternal Sky City.”
“The old man is very clever; he tied Wen Yu to the chariot of the Beijing gathering place with benefits. But this is still meaningless. I can’t even understand one thing—who actually holds the power in Beijing now?”
“Is it you? Is it me? Is it Lin Haifeng? Or is it Wen Yu?”