Chapter 141
No one spoke.
Not because they were afraid to—though some certainly didn’t dare to—but because voicing any opposition to what had just been said would effectively place them at odds with Brian, who had framed his actions as a bid to protect the city.
In a situation like this, any dissent could easily be used against them later.
No one wanted that, especially since this mission was of great importance—not necessarily because it was about saving lives.
For lower-ranked supernaturals, it might seem puzzling why powerful cultivators, whose strength levelled cities and dried rivers, still adhered to the Federation’s commands.
The reason was simple.
The Federation had what they wanted.
The same cycle had repeated since the dawn of the supernatural era.
Those who did good were rewarded.
These rewards weren’t always unattainable for high-level cultivators, but anything that could entice king-rank supernaturals and above was bound to be extraordinarily rare and difficult to acquire.
The Federation system, however, streamlined the process.
What would take years of personal effort could often be obtained through service.
The powerful wanted resources and opportunities to ascend further, while the Federation desired loyalty and control.
This mutual need formed a delicate balance—a circle of dependency that perpetuated itself until loyalty became second nature.
Of course, stronger experts enjoyed greater freedom, but even they had their limits.
For most of the gathered king-ranks—aside from Brian—the reason they were here was simple.
The Federation had promised treasures of extraordinary value in exchange for their aid.
Resources far beyond what the early city’s defenders like Michael would receive, even if they had fought with their lives on the line.
This wasn’t about altruism.
It was about power and the price to claim more of it. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire
“What should we do now? We don’t have much time.”
Quiet Blade interjected.
Brian turned to him, his voice calm.
“There are two ways we can approach this. We can either divide ourselves into small groups to address each crack, or we can pool all our forces and attack each crack with overwhelming speed and strength.
“In my opinion, the second option is better. Not only is it safer, but it also ensures efficiency since we’ll be striking with full force. If we divide our already limited numbers, we’ll not only face monsters who are just as strong as us but also their overwhelming numbers.”
“And let’s not forget, even cracks that are close to breaking require a third of their force to be killed before we can safely move on. We don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of these cracks, so dividing could be dangerous.”
Brian finished and fell silent, letting his words sink in.
Quiet Blade broke the silence again.
“Let’s all go together. With our combined forces, even if we can’t clear a crack in one go, taking down a third of its strength will delay its collapse. We can use that extra time to target other cracks, repeating the process. This method is both safe and efficient.”
Hearing Quiet Blade’s reasoning, the gathered kings nodded in agreement.
“It’s better we move together.”
“Safety in numbers.”
“And faster too.”
No one voiced a differing opinion.
The logic was sound, and with their levels of power, unity only amplified their strength.
With the decision made, the king-level cultivators wasted no time.
After a few brief words exchanged among themselves, they flew toward the nearest crack.
Without hesitation, they plunged into the crack, fully prepared to fight the moment they crossed over.
******
Before heading home after his conversation with Brian, Michael made a detour to the Supers Association branch.
The destruction from the recent chaos was still evident, but a semblance of organisation had begun to return.
Compared to the earlier pandemonium, the city was starting to show signs of recovery. At least starting to show one.
With his sharp hearing, Michael caught the blaring of ambulance sirens in the distance, signaling that some hospitals were operational.
The sound reminded him of Old Man Liu, the supervisor of the first crack he had ever entered.
Michael wondered if the old man had survived the incident. A part of him hoped he had.
Considering the unique environment surrounding the corrupted Goblin World crack, Michael suspected that if many of the medical facilities in that area remained intact, the crack itself would likely be thriving soon.
The amount of negative energy in the ruined city was likely a feast for cracks of all kinds.
In fact, Michael figured that every crack in Woodstone City was now “enjoying” the abundance of negative energy if nothing had happened to them.
The reason Michael had come to the Association instead of heading straight home was simple—Lily’s injury.
Taking her to a hospital might have been a good idea, but given the current state of the city, she wouldn’t be a priority.
Besides, Michael didn’t favor the idea.
Also, such a case was somewhat too light to go to an hospital for.
As a supernatural, he knew there were better ways to treat injuries of her level, especially since Lily was just an ordinary human.
His solution: buy a health potion.
Michael recalled his first experience with a health potion.
Embarrassingly, it had been on his very first day in the Land of Origin.
The injury he’d used it on had been far worse than Lily’s foot, and the potion had worked wonders.
Michael was confident that not even half a bottle would be needed to relieve her pain.
Unfortunately, due to the chaos in the city, Michael was only able to purchase five basic-grade health potions.
Still, that was more than enough.
He didn’t need higher-grade potions since they wouldn’t be used on himself or his undead—potions didn’t work on creatures like them in the first place.
As he left the trade center, holding the potions in his hand, Michael realized he had been slow to act when it came to relieving Lily’s pain.
It was only after buying the potions that he remembered something he had forgotten entirely.
When he first prepared to enter the Land of Origin, he had bought more than one health potion.
Three, to be exact.
After his first injury, Michael had rarely found himself in dire need of a potion, not even during his near-death situation.
As a result, he still had two unused potions left.
“Whatever,” Michael muttered to himself. “I bought more potions originally to help others in the community who might need them. The more, the better.”
Despite his enhanced mental faculties and high-speed thought processing, Michael was still human.
Just a very powerful one.