Forge a path to success

Trek took the letter from its hand. He opened the bright red envelope and saw a malicious message.

I want to play a game with you.

Chapter 337 Blood Smoke and Blooming Thorns (2)

I've heard that the Third Captain's philosophy is "justice that is never too late."

You believe that wrongdoing should be prevented before it occurs; once a major mistake has been made, delayed justice is meaningless. Therefore, you and your team always appear mysteriously throughout the Third Order to prevent problems before they arise. As a result, major crimes committed by the Poetry Umbrella are always stopped in time before they occur.

To place the safety of all living beings on the shoulders of a mere team—I believe this is a remarkable concept.

That's why I'm so curious to know, where are the limits of "justice"?

Trek held the letter higher so his daughter beside him wouldn't see it. He wanted to tell Lico casually that this was no big deal, just like before, but the instincts honed on the battlefield prevented him from feigning nonchalance.

“Lico, take everyone to the command center,” he said. “You might not be able to contact me for a while, don’t panic.”

The rules of the game are very simple.

An unknown number of bombs were planted throughout the third vein.

All the bombs will be detonated today, but the timing of each bomb's explosion is random.

In other words, even I don't know where the next explosion will happen.

If you can destroy all the bombs, then your "justice" has triumphed.

If you miss any of the bombs, then your "justice" has failed.

I hope you are ready.

Trek took a compass out of his pocket.

The pointer that usually points to where the crime occurred is now spinning wildly and aimlessly, turning into a phantom of despair.

From the moment you see this line...

The game has begun.

The spinning pointer suddenly stopped, the compass pointing directly ahead. The messenger's tears had dried up; blood-red smoke trickled from his empty eye sockets. His body instantly expanded like a hot air balloon, and in the instant before the explosion, a wooden spear fell from the sky, impaling the soldier and pinning him to the ground!

“This is a real hassle,” Trek said.

At the same moment the wooden spear pierced his body, he and the soldier appeared above the desperate battle line. He kicked the soldier away, sending him crashing into a group of corrupted beasts. The soldier exploded with power the instant he landed, and a crimson light rose from the battle line!

The entire horde of mutated beasts was reduced to ashes. The level 4 beasts, who prided themselves on their robust physiques, had no chance to even struggle against this bomb. Even the parched land vanished, the detonation point becoming a crater as deep as a meteorite impact, from which crimson smoke rose, mingling with the dust.

A mercenary behind them stared wide-eyed: "A new weapon from the city-state?!"

"There will be lots of fireworks today," Trek told him.

He vanished again, returning to the bustling city center of the Third Pulse. The long-distance teleportation brought a brief sense of emptiness, but the self-circulating Chalice of Honor replenished the lost energy after stopping the crime. The distance from the city-state to the middle of the Desperate Front was too far, but he had to conduct his experiments in an area that wouldn't endanger the citizens. The compass pointed to a balloon rising from the crowd, and thoughts flowed through Trek's mind like water.

The first strike that pierced the soldier was a sealing technique that isolated the flow of energy. The fact that the bomb detonated normally indicates that it lacked a precise internal structure or was an overly complex integrated design. In terms of destructive power alone, a single bomb is equivalent to a full-force strike from a top-tier mass level four, and its range could cover at least a city block, meaning at least several thousand direct casualties.

How many bombs were there? Hundreds? Thousands? Even if we take the most ideal estimate of 100, that would directly threaten the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. And he couldn't let a single one go.

Thinking paused for a moment. Trek grabbed the colorful balloon, while the child who was jumping up to try and snatch it looked aggrieved.

"I'll send you a new one later," Trek told him with a smile.

The balloon was teleported again, detonating above the battle line. The aftershocks only affected a few birds. Again, no remains were left, only smoke. This bomb seemed to have an extremely strong effect on living beings; the crimson smoke was the remnant of their decomposition. Trek used a bunch of flowers to collect the smoke as a sample for preservation, and his compass began to shake erratically once more.

Trek channeled even more mental energy: "You better take this seriously too."

This compass is his Cup of Honor. It's the pointer that points to evil, granting him the ability to bring justice to the rescue. With it, he can appear at crime scenes, battlefields, or other places rife with malice, or even around his comrades, thus preventing crimes in advance. The compass of justice can also remove others and objects, but that comes with double the consumption of mental energy and requires even more precise control.

It was precisely because of the compass that Trek was able to maintain his composure and preparedness. But this time he completely miscalculated, allowing the enemy to operate within the Third Meridian without noticing anything amiss; the compass only reacted at this very moment…

Not only that, the team members' routine checks yielded no results, and even the Temple of Thorns did not issue any warnings. Everyone maintained the attitude that "everything was fine until yesterday" as they entered the present.

(The other side possesses an enormous amount of intelligence, including my abilities, the Divine Guard's routine inspection methods, and the way they can evade the Divine Tree... There's a traitor in a very high position.)

With precise compass positioning, he appeared in front of a hot dog stand, teleporting once more and unleashing an explosion. The next target's detonation is in 2 seconds. A florist snatches flowers. 2 seconds. A flower cart's emblem is removed. 1 second. A ball bouncing on a sports field. 0.7 seconds. A scholar's computing terminal. 1.7 seconds. A projection crystal playing a program. 3 seconds…

There was absolutely no pattern. The timing of the detonation, the location of the detonation, even the shape of the bomb itself—it was all unpredictable. Until the very moment before it exploded, even he couldn't determine which of the objects around him would be the bomb.

The criminal fused the core of the Blood Smoke Bomb into an ordinary object, demonstrating extremely high precision in his manipulation of matter... Based on this, it can be inferred that he is likely one of the few rational Supreme Path Ascenders, most likely a Level 5 Anti-Lyric Rainbow, and causing destruction is their specialty.

This ruthless bomb-monger has no bottom line, disregarding the casualties of innocent people. Judging from the tone of his challenging letter, he is the most troublesome and enjoyable criminal ever. He lurked among the crowd, patiently evading the search by the Divine Guard, crafting bombs one by one, all to trigger today's tragedy…

Trek abruptly stopped thinking. Something was wrong. It was hard to imagine that an Anti-Rayet could be so adept at infiltration. These highly emotional individuals were extremely impatient for quick results and preferred immediate outcomes. If the Spiral Tower was behind this, the Rainbow Abominations would most likely have created an unstoppable, massive bomb, suspending it above the Third Pulse to revel in the citizens' despair, rather than providing a specific opportunity to "stop" it.

Moreover, the fact that the Supreme Path concealed its tracks is inherently incongruous... Is the culprit schizophrenic? The possibility of a gang committing the crime is very low; who could cooperate with Anti-Law Rainbow...?

0.9 seconds. The short break ended, and Trek appeared at the tortilla stand, his pointer pointing to a chubby boy who had just eaten a large frozen tortilla smeared with honey.

"Do you want some pancakes too?" the chubby boy asked, looking rather silly.

Trek was glad he was wearing sunglasses, so others couldn't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He punched the chubby boy in the chest, and the upward-flowing divine power caused the pancake to be spat out. The bomb-like frozen pancake had already turned to light. There was no time to teleport. Trek's hands turned to wood, his ten fingers, growing like tree branches, coiled into a ball, locking the bomb in place.

Thorn Robe Divine Art - Branch Prison, the first layer of divine protection. At the same time, Trek planted his feet firmly in the ground, drawing power to set up the second layer of divine protection. There was no time to cast a sealing spell; after strengthening his body, he lunged forward, slamming the bomb beneath him.

explosion.

People heard a deafening roar and felt the ground slide; the force of the blood-smoke bomb was transferred underground through its roots. Trek was blasted a kilometer away, transferring the main body of the bomb high into the sky, thus dissipating the secondary disaster into the clouds.

Trek's vision went white; the direct impact of the bomb caused him brief dizziness. It was stronger than the first one; was its power random?

He wasted a precious second in his daze, realizing he was lying in a broken wooden box, surrounded by flattened fruit. The pig stall owner stared at him in utter astonishment.

"Sir, you're injured! Don't move!" it said anxiously. "I'll take you to the temple—"

"Thanks for not making me pay up," Trek thought. He vanished from the stall owner's sight and grabbed a wooden chair in the restaurant. The wasted opportunity made it impossible for him to maintain his previous rhythm, so he threw the bomb directly into the sea, the blast tearing dozens of demons apart.

To rid the people of a scourge. His thoughts raced uncontrollably through his mind, whether from the aftereffects of his injury or the bomb's effects, he couldn't tell. Trek steadied himself, wiping the blood from his face. He had gathered enough intelligence about the bomb; he used a small amount of divine power to activate communications and enter the common channel of all teams.

"The situation at Mansa Starburg is under control. All teams, please report." He heard Banningtik's voice.

"Yes! No abnormalities reported for the second team!"

"We're dealing with demonic incursions here, and we're currently suppressing them while protecting civilians. Considering the potential for panic during evacuations, we've refrained from large-scale firefights at this time," Harleiroya reported. "Thanks to the assistance of helpful citizens, the situation is under our control."

"There's also a situation in the fields. A large number of unfamiliar mobile dolls have appeared, and they are extremely effective against war plants," the fourth captain reported. "Same here. Thank you for your spontaneous support, senior."

The ominous premonition came true. Banningtik had previously thought Fort Mansa and the military camp were the most vulnerable areas, but the amusement park and fields were the ones where the trouble started. If the third sequence's defenses were tight, the enemy's main force would likely take the opportunity to move to sequences 4 and 5. Fortunately, they had taken precautions in advance, with two point 5s in charge, so the disturbance could be controlled. In this light, the worst situation was actually on their side…

As he dealt with the bomb, Banningtik called out, "Third team, please report."

"Okay, okay, routine report. No issues with the third team. Call me anytime if they need support."

Trek heard the voice of the man who had done the job perfunctorily.

That was his own voice.

Chapter 338 Blood Smoke and Blooming Thorns (3)

One day ago, the secret room.

"Do you know how the divine tree 'senses' the city-state?" Wang Quan asked.

As it spoke, it looked at Lylena, and the female assassin instinctively avoided its gaze: "How would I know? It is... you know, the city-state was built on its body."

"You believe that the Divine Tree can naturally control everything in the city-state, just as humans can sense pleasure or pain. This is the most common perception; I think 99% of the citizens in the city-state think this way," Wang Quan said. "However, Lyrna, can you sense the movements of the bacteria on your own body?"

"How can it be……"

“See? Even at point 5, you can’t do that. You need to be at least at the level of a Holy Son to have complete knowledge of a particular part of your body.” Wang Quan drew a fat spider. “However, the Divine Tree of the Forest walks the path of the ephemeral world, and its body is not the foundation of its enlightenment. This huge trunk, as large as a city, is not flesh to the Divine Tree, but rather its ‘body’.”

To perceive the movement of a single one among countless bacteria on the surface of an organism would be far too difficult, even for the Divine Tree! This isn't a matter of power, but rather a matter of subjective time scale. A single instant perceived by the Divine Tree is almost half a lifetime for the life forms on its trunk.

"Therefore, it must use methods outside of subjective perception to 'perceive' the city-state, namely a surveillance network built upon a divine power system. Its divine power is its 'nerves,' and the divine guards are its cells, its ears, its eyes, and its hands. If the divine guards issue an alert, this defense system will be activated immediately, but if a high-authority divine guard continuously sends out 'harmless' signals..."

Wang Quan drew a tree wearing an eye patch and drew a small flame next to the tree.

"It will know nothing, even if a flood were to break out somewhere in the body."

“That makes sense. Even a powerful aircraft carrier wouldn’t be able to detect a fire in a room inside the ship after hacking into the system,” Guo Yutu said. “However, please allow me to raise two small questions… First, if Jing Sha’s network of superhuman strength is so weak that even I can hack into it, how has this old tree survived until now?”

“Excellent question! If this were 1000 years ago, we would already be hanging on the gallows in Mansa Star Castle. If this were 500 years ago, the captains of the Divine Guard would be waiting at the door, ready to give us a surprise,” Wang Quan laughed. “But this is the year 3001 of the Candlelight Calendar. The Thorn Tree is embroiled in internal strife, and the city-state, which prides itself on unity, is actively embracing absurd laws. The Thorn Tree is old, like a decaying old man clinging to life on a sickbed. People only see its magnificent outer robe and are immersed in the extravagance it has created with its life’s blood.”

Guo Yutu nodded: "The second question is, what makes you so confident that you can deceive this... old man of mass 7?"

Wang Quan turned his hand back and revealed a black full moon. The full moon split open its mouth and smiled silently.

"Because I am the divine child of the First Abyss," it said.

·

Now, the third pulse sequence.

"Nothing for now, but it's so hot, I really want a vacation..."

The incoherent male voice still echoed in the channel, perfectly matching Just Trek's usual tone. The real Trek simultaneously issued a warning using both mental and vocal means: "The Third Pulse is in critical condition, urgently needing support. That's a fake!"

But there was no response.

His voice never reached the channel; his speaking privileges were inexplicably taken away by technology and transferred to the imposter. The imposter's impersonation of Jas Trek was so lifelike that even Jas Trek himself began to doubt his own voice.

The imposter Trek continued to complain to his colleagues: "But seriously, I hope everyone takes responsibility for the safety of their own area. If something happens back home while I'm providing support, well, let's just say my performance review will be pretty bad..."

"Can you please stop saying such embarrassing things now, Just Trek?"

"I don't need to rely on your help, old man."

"If you're having cash flow problems, I can lend it to you for free!"

His colleagues joked around, ending the conversation. In the tense atmosphere of the holiday, even exchanging a few words was a rare moment of relaxation. Banningtik initiated a private chat with him: "Trek, what's the actual situation?"

"There are several demon-possessed individuals, and their motives are unclear at the moment. I'm currently observing the situation. I may send you an application once I've determined their identities."

"Okay. Don't worry during this period. If needed, just apply for a divine strike. I'll take responsibility."

The communication ended, and Trek silently moved the bomb, as if he could hear the prisoner's snickering.

While his communication was blocked, he was allowed access to the channel and a certain degree of control over the situation. This was clearly a psychological tactic to disrupt his mindset. The prisoner used this feeling of complete control as bait to try and throw him off balance. In this race against time, one wrong step could lead to a series of mistakes.

No amount of complaining or regret will help; what needs to be considered is what one has gained. The criminal also possesses an extraordinary ability to mimic, able to imitate "Just Trek" with a level of detail that even he himself cannot distinguish. Simultaneously, he possesses unbelievable hacking skills, capable of hacking into the Guardians' communication channels in broad daylight without being detected. He is practically a criminal genius…

No, that can't be.

It's definitely not just one person.

A Supreme Ascendant with astonishing destructive power, skilled in bomb making, and capable of sending out challenge letters. A hacker with bizarre technology who infiltrates communication channels. And then there's the imposter who excels at concealment, mimicking himself right in front of him. There are at least three culprits...

At least three top-tier particles are besieging the third pulse sequence!

From the very first moment since the incident, Trek felt a nagging tension, knowing that the situation would always be worse than those involved imagined. He had already guessed at three points of mass 5; how many points of mass 4, and how many points of mass 3, were acting under their command?

·

"...Our city-state is great because of unity! The time for the thorns to bloom has come once again, a time to remember the spirit of our ancestors. Malice is running rampant in the name of the law; those with conscience, contribute your strength to the cause!"

The fourth politician finished his speech, but few responded. He was like a washed-up actor nearing retirement, having exhausted all his talents on stage only to garner polite, sporadic applause. The floats continued their journey to the music, while Ji Huaisu in the lounge drew the curtains.

"The popularity is terrible," Van der commented.

Ji Huaisu shook her head: "I didn't mean to slander anyone, but compared to Parriman, we're simply..."

"A bunch of chickens and dogs," Senator Klose said with a wry smile.

The opposition lawmakers tried their best to demonstrate their patriotism and demeanor, but they lacked Parryman's eloquence and admirable bearing. Comparing these staid middle-aged men to Speaker Parryman was like comparing a battlefield soldier to a general; even those unfamiliar with politics could see that they were simply not in the same league.

“Honestly, this shouldn’t be the case. You opposition groups need someone in charge, right? How come you can’t even find someone to lead the charge?” Van der complained.

Councilor Klose maintained his wry smile; his face seemed devoid of any other expression. He asked, "Captain Ji, your Huilong City is full of powerful figures, so how come you were surrounded by three heretics until last year before barely managing to escape?"

Ji Huaisu immediately understood the implication of his words and said sadly, "Many people have died."

“The same goes for the thorns,” said Congressman Croz. “The responsible people, the people who understand the greater good, the people who are capable of standing alone—those who could be the leaders of the masses—all died on the battlefield 20 years ago. The military’s voice is not what it used to be, and the soldiers are divided due to the casualties. Because the public’s pain needs an outlet, we have put the former commander in court again… So, of course, the supporters behind the commander, and even the entire faction, have been severely damaged.”

He shook his head and sighed, “That’s how the effects of war are, one thing after another falls… Unconsciously, the masses have chosen Parrymanism as a painkiller, and individual thinking has been swept up by the group, thus creating the current predicament. Those with feelings and righteousness die on the battlefield, while a cowardly and timid man like me, who is powerless to fight the enemy, has survived to this day. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

He finally couldn't even maintain his smile, and hung his head dejectedly, looking every bit like a disheartened middle-aged man. Van der couldn't bear to see him like this and comforted him, "At least you stood up."

"The difference in strength and background is too great. We people have barely managed to gain a foothold with the help of Outer Dust Island. Rather than standing up, it's more like being pushed out."

He repeatedly stroked the silver badge, like a victim rubbing the casing of a magic lamp, hoping the omnipotent genie would appear and solve the problem. Ji Huaisu glanced at her watch; there were still thirty seconds until Crozier's speech. She needed to change the subject to get the politician back on track.

"Having funding is better than having nothing. Your supporters will help you even if it's just to minimize your losses."