Chapter 592
The Role of the Solar Mind Network, Written Examination Room
In the dead of night, the bustling atmosphere of the Jinshui Fish Market has long since subsided, and all is quiet.
The ward, located in the clinic's basement, was shrouded in endless darkness.
The exhaust fan in the corner was covered in grease and made a labored, muffled humming sound.
Shanks sat slumped on the hospital bed, his eyes glazed over, his expression blank.
His mind was filled with all sorts of impressions of the Illuminati.
When he first heard the chairman mention this name on the top floor of the Silverwing Building, he didn't take it seriously at all.
They thought it was some unknown small team trying to take advantage of the situation, but they were too foolish to provoke the Bloodthorn Mercenary Group, which has an S-level expert in charge.
As a result, the man smashed the mountain of flesh-like bear with just two punches, severely injuring the leader, Masked Man.
That wild and unrestrained aura, that overwhelming power, instantly suppressed the entire scene and completely intimidated him.
Shanks decisively chose to retreat, shrinking into a corner in the shadows, hoping to play dead and get away with it.
How could he, burdened with the blood debts of hundreds of his family members, possibly risk his life for a mercenary group like Blood Thorn that only does business for money?
However, the subsequent minutes of relentless bombardment allowed him to witness firsthand the true limits of human power.
The president, with his mortal body, actually confronted the military's armed helicopter head-on, and single-handedly destroyed the steel beast representing modern technology.
Unfortunately, he was hit by machine gun fire, suffered severe injuries, and was about to fall into hell, ending his tragic life.
But filled with resentment and unwillingness, he mustered his last breath and crawled to the man's feet, reaching out his hand for help.
At that moment, the president lowered his eyes, as if he were a god looking down upon the mortal world.
His life or death was in the other's hands; he didn't even have the right to beg for mercy.
Fortunately, the killer finally nodded and threw a lifeline to the drowning man.
The surgery was successful, saving his life after more than a decade of lingering illness.
But Shanks remained uneasy even after waking up.
He feared that if he handed over his bank password, he would be silenced and discarded like trash after being squeezed dry of his last bit of usefulness.
Little did I expect that tonight's unusual experience would lead to a turning point in my life.
All of this happened so suddenly that he was still caught off guard and his mind was still in a state of confusion.
It's like a person who has reached the end of the road, only to find a long bridge suddenly built across the cliff in front of them.
Overjoyed, I was also filled with mixed emotions.
Shanks couldn't help but compare the Chairman to that gray-clad man who also resembled a demon.
Like the sun in the sky, acting violently and domineeringly, yet able to release light and heat to illuminate those in darkness.
The other appears compassionate but is actually ruthless and merciless, resorting to any means to achieve his goals, bringing only death and misfortune to others.
Shanks suddenly remembered a phrase his grandfather often said:
"Fate is like a dealer who likes to play tricks on people. You can never guess what the next hand will bring, whether it will push your chips to the devil or throw them to God."
After wandering the underworld for so many years, I can now find a true home and follow such a powerful and reliable leader.
For him, it was absolutely a blessing won from a high-stakes gamble.
"Thank God, He did not abandon me, a sinner fallen into hell..."
Shanks habitually raised his right hand, thumb pointing to his forehead, preparing to make the sign of the cross in prayer.
But his arm froze in mid-air halfway through the movement.
He seemed to freeze, then gave a self-deprecating bitter laugh.
"Where in this world is there any illusory, savior of suffering?"
Shanks slowly lowered his arm, tilted his head back, and looked up at the yellowish incandescent light bulb above him:
"My life was generously bestowed upon me by the guild master."
"From now on, I will have only one master, and that master is you, Chairman."
As these heartfelt words were spoken, a distant echo seemed to resonate from the depths of the universe.
Shanks vaguely sensed that his soul seemed to have formed an extremely strong bond with someone far away.
This bond was strong and solid, enough to fight against the enormous demonic shadow lurking in the depths of his consciousness, and it also invigorated his spirit.
Shanks slowly closed his eyes and began to meditate.
He vaguely saw a blazing, dazzling sun.
Endless light radiated outwards, weaving itself into a vast golden net.
He was right there in this dazzling net of light, transformed into a star that had been lit up, shining as brightly as the sun.
At the same time, a warm, gentle stream, following the invisible golden light, slowly flowed towards him.
"what is this?"
Shanks suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze bright and piercing.
This warm current is very subtle and flows very slowly.
If he hadn't constantly teetered on the brink of death and possessed extremely keen senses, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.
But its strength lies in its continuity, like a gentle stream, constantly improving itself from the inside out.
Like the medicine in the IV drip above the head, it is injected into every part of the body, nourishing the wounded and battered.
It also dispelled the hidden gloom in my heart and soothed my weary spirit.
Shanks could clearly feel that the wounds on his chest and abdomen were now slightly warm, and the healing speed was obviously accelerating.
This warm current even alleviated the lingering effects of the nightmare, where the soul felt torn apart.
You should know that this is a chronic headache caused by overuse of bloodline abilities!
"Could it be a miracle performed by the guild master?"
Shanks' breathing suddenly became heavy, and countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
Previously, his greatest fear was that his body would be worn down by the bloodline curse, and that he would gradually go mad and lose his mind under the torment of mental illness.
In the end, he became just like that beast, turning into a bloodthirsty and ruthless monster.
But now, he suddenly has the confidence to completely cure his chronic illness, live a good life, and even live a better life!
Shanks' blue eyes shone with an astonishing light, as if flames were burning deep within them.
The heart that had been cooled for many years in his chest cavity began to pump wildly, as if it had been refilled with magma.
Blood surged through his veins, carrying the hope of revenge and extreme excitement, washing over every nerve.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly.
"hiss--"
The excessive force aggravated the unhealed gunshot wound in his chest and abdomen.
The newly scabbed wound burst open, and bright red blood quickly soaked through the gauze, blooming into several glaring blood flowers on his chest.
Shanks grunted, his brows furrowing tightly.
But he didn't let go. Instead, amidst the excruciating pain, he forced a smile that was almost manic.
The clearer the pain, the more it proves that he is truly on the path of revenge.
In this long, dark night, in the gloomy basement.
He stared wide-eyed at the mottled ceiling, his bloodshot eyes wide open.
Despite the bleeding from the wound, his excited nerves couldn't muster even a sliver of sleepiness.
"Emily...be patient. One day, your brother will be able to avenge you with his own hands..."
....................................
At the same time, thousands of kilometers away.
A fierce wind howled, whipping up black, raging waves tens of meters high, which crashed violently into an ocean-going cargo ship that was cutting through the waves.
The icy seawater turned into a cloud of white foam, cascading onto the steel deck like a torrential downpour. This was the most turbulent part of the cargo ship, its bow.
A towering figure, as robust as an iron tower, stood like a javelin amidst the raging winds and waves.
He wasn't wearing any protective clothing, letting the icy sea breeze tear at his thin shirt.
The wind whipped up his long, dark red hair, which resembled dried blood, and made it fly wildly behind his head.
Those giant waves, powerful enough to crush ordinary people, seemed to hit an invisible high wall when they came within three feet of his body.
The water was cut and split by a brute force, and then crashed down to both sides.
Because any water vapor that gets even slightly close will be instantly evaporated by the extreme heat, turning into a large cloud of white mist that swirls around.
The red-haired man rested his hands on the thick metal railing.
At the edge of his palm, the air rippled with concentric circles of intense heat.
The solid forged steel railing creaked under the weight.
The metal surface gleamed with a dark red luster, as if it were being forcibly melted by a furnace.
In the blink of an eye, it became like a branding iron, with molten iron dripping down its edges.
The red-haired man raised his head, his cold eyes piercing through the storm, gazing at the continent beyond the distant horizon.
That direction leads directly to the eastern capital of the Xia Kingdom.
Suddenly, his eyelids twitched violently.
In the depths of his blood, a violent tremor surged forth.
It was as if a god had unleashed a furious roar, tearing through endless space and time, and exploding directly in his ears.
"Could this be..."
A flicker of surprise crossed the red-haired man's eyes, and his chiseled face twisted slightly.
He closed his eyes and quietly felt for a moment.
However, that feeling of excitement quickly receded like the tide, leaving no trace.
The red-haired man frowned slightly, then shook his head.
They simply assumed it was a hallucination caused by a chronic blood disorder.
He exhaled a breath of hot, stale air, and turned his gaze back to the surging sea:
"Bai Xiao, you wait. I'm going to tear off your mask and see who you really are."
As he spoke, his five fingers suddenly clenched together.
Click!
The steel railings were as soft as tofu, and he easily snapped them in two.
....................................
At 10 a.m., when the sun is at its brightest.
Third lecture hall at the Tokyo National Special Police Academy.
The cold air from the central air conditioning whistled down through the grille of the vents, but it couldn't dispel the tense atmosphere inside the examination room.
More than one hundred candidates were scattered across the spacious tiered seating area.
In the vast space, only the scratching sound of pen tips rubbing against paper and the deliberately suppressed, uneven breathing of people could be heard.
The questions in this administrative professional ability test were extremely difficult and challenging for many people.
Faced with exam questions covering subjects such as law, politics, psychology, military affairs, and management, the warriors who were used to solving problems with their fists were now completely rendered speechless.
Some people frowned deeply, chewing the plastic cap of their pens until it was pitted and scarred.
Some people stared at the same big question for a full ten minutes, scratching their hair until it looked like a bird's nest, but their answer sheet was still completely blank.
Some even gave up and blindly filled in the multiple-choice questions with their eyes closed.
Some students were shaking their legs and hitting their desks, making a soft creaking sound, which made the people around them even more agitated.
Back row of the examination room.
A lean, crew-cut young man looked furtive, his eyes darting around in their sockets.
Taking advantage of the moment when the proctor turned around, he quickly pulled up his left sleeve and glanced at the miniature electronic screen that was taped to the inside of his forearm.
"Snapped!"
However, before he could even see the words on the screen clearly, a hand suddenly reached out from the side.
He spread his five fingers and slammed them heavily on his desk, pressing the test paper down.
The lean young man shuddered and suddenly raised his head.
Suddenly, the proctor, wearing a name tag, appeared in front of him, looking down at him with disdain in her eyes.
"Useless trash! You can't even cheat! Get the hell out of here!"
"Teacher, I didn't..."
The young man turned pale and frantically tried to pull down his sleeve to argue his case.
The proctor ignored all the nonsense and simply reached out and tore the answer sheet off his desk.
Hearing the commotion, two armed guards outside the door strode in, grabbed the young man's arms on either side, and dragged him out of the classroom amidst his desperate pleas.
The sounds of struggle in the corridor gradually faded away.
The atmosphere in the examination room instantly plummeted to freezing point.
The remaining candidates were so frightened that they lowered their heads even further, their palms sweating so much that they almost slipped from their pens.
However, in this high-pressure atmosphere, Fang Cheng, sitting by the window, felt as if he were in another world.
Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a slanted glow on his right hand as he held the pen.
The black ballpoint pen flew across the answer sheet.
There was no pause, no hesitation in biting the pen tip, and no need to scribble or deduce on draft paper.
For each question, the moment he finished reading the question, a logically sound answer was already smoothly written on the paper.
The proctor who had just caught the cheater was pacing along the aisle and happened to stop next to Fang Cheng.
Looking at the exam paper filled with densely packed words, the teacher raised an eyebrow and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.
The speed and fluency with which he answered the questions were as if he had the standard answers memorized beforehand and was simply reciting them from memory.
On second thought, the proctor felt relieved.
As one of the important departments symbolizing national power, the Special Investigations Team not only holds the power of life and death, but also enjoys ridiculously high treatment and social status.
Every year, countless wealthy and powerful families scramble to get their children in for a prestigious degree.
Whether one pursues a political or business career, this experience can be a significant advantage in navigating high society.
Although the recruitment process for the Special Investigations Unit is extremely rigorous, it can filter out the vast majority of good-for-nothings who only know how to eat, drink, and have fun.
However, in the face of absolute power, there are always some powerful figures who can control everything and obtain the core question bank in advance through underhanded means.
The proctor's gaze followed the exam paper upwards and landed on Fang Cheng's face.
He wore gold-rimmed glasses, had a handsome and refined face, and held the pen with a steady and upright posture.
Even when simply sitting quietly answering questions, one naturally exudes an air of superiority and unapproachability.
This reserved aura is something that cannot be cultivated in an ordinary family.
"I guess it's another young master from some powerful family who's been sent out for training."
The teacher muttered something to herself, then tactfully looked away and continued her rounds of the back rows with her hands behind her back. (End of Chapter)