She Quan knew all too well that he was outnumbered. He quickly reached into his coat and pulled out his “Scholar” identification, thrusting it toward the group of police officers. However, the officers eyed it with suspicion. After examining it carefully, one of them suddenly kicked She Quan hard in the abdomen.
“How do we know if that’s real or fake? What if it’s just a trick?” the officer snarled.
“Boss, this looks pretty genuine!”
Another officer leaned in, scrutinizing the “Scholar” ID She Quan had handed over, a hint of doubt on his face.
Several other officers quickly gathered around, passing the document back and forth, their eyes sharp with inspection. But after looking it over for a while, they couldn’t spot any obvious flaws.
“It’s fake, it must be fake! It’s definitely a forged document made by the bunch who burned down the police station, trying to escape justice!”
The lead officer frowned, a cunning glint in his eyes, insisting the ID was counterfeit.
Right now, it was only police officers here, while She Quan stood alone on the other side. They had strength in numbers—what was there to fear?
After a moment’s thought, She Quan instantly guessed their plan. They were clearly eager to find a scapegoat to pin the blame for the destroyed police station on, and he had become the “easy target” in their eyes.
But She Quan knew well that while he wasn’t some unshakable powerhouse, he was certainly not someone to be bullied at will.
However, relying solely on his “Divine Gift” would probably get him shot full of holes by the officers’ firearms the moment he made a move.
Was it time to use that?
Unhurriedly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a palm-sized statue.
The statue appeared old and ordinary, but it was actually a crucial item given to him by the “Scholar” leadership when they sent him to Mobius City—his only means of offense.
It was said that every city’s “Scholar” organization had someone in possession of such a statue, though he didn’t know if that was true.
“It’s all up to this thing now.”
She Quan muttered to himself. He roughly understood the statue’s function: borrowing power.
As for whose power it borrowed, he had no time to dwell on that now.
In an instant, an intangible white mist seeped from the statue, quickly coiling around him.
In just a blink, She Quan felt his body lighten. He shot forward to an officer standing before him, his fist cutting through the air with a sharp whistle as it slammed into the officer’s face, sending him flying backward.
Without pause, She Quan pivoted and delivered a powerful side kick to the chest of a portly officer.
The kick was heavy and fierce. The officer felt as if a sledgehammer had struck his chest, ribs cracking under the impact. His bulky body slid several meters across the ground before crashing into the wall behind him.
The portly officer clutched his chest, groaning, but when he met She Quan’s gaze, he obediently fell silent.
She Quan glanced at the portly officer with confusion. Just how heavy was this guy?
That kick had felt like hitting a sack of cotton.
In mere moments, all the officers were beaten to the ground by She Quan, each one bruised and groaning in pain.
“Not bad.”
With that, She Quan patted the statue in his hand, and the white mist slowly dissipated.
He strode over to the officer who had taken his “Scholar” ID, snatched it back, and carefully tucked both the statue and the ID into two separate inner pockets of his white coat.
Meanwhile, the police station continued to burn fiercely, flames leaping into the sky and dyeing everything around in a crimson glow.
The officers lying on the ground moaned weakly, their eyes filled with terror and regret. They seemed to have truly picked the wrong target. She Quan was no easy mark—he was an iron plate they couldn’t kick aside.
They were starting to believe in She Quan’s “Scholar” identity now.
The “Scholar” organization was a vast, formidable force not to be underestimated. Offending such a major group meant their careers in the police force were likely over.
However, while the officers were still turning these thoughts over in their minds, She Quan had already left them far behind.
His most urgent task now was to inform the Guard about the gang’s plans.
As for why he didn’t just tell the police—She Quan glanced at the officers sprawled on the ground. After all, this bunch was utterly unreliable.
She Quan then turned and strode away. He remembered that the Guard was stationed near Mobius City’s train station.
Once he dealt with these annoying matters, he would return to Brand University and inform Demikhov and that old man who enjoyed smoking leaves about everything.
After She Quan’s figure vanished around the street corner, ragged figures emerged like ghosts from the dark alleyways. They were refugees who had been huddled near the train station, seeking a safer haven in these turbulent times for a chance at survival.
Lions Street, one of Mobius’s busiest thoroughfares, was densely patrolled and relatively secure, making it a refuge in their eyes. On this bustling street, the garbage piles occasionally yielded leftover scraps of food—an irresistible temptation for these starving refugees.
“Hey, the people in that car earlier… they looked really familiar…”
One refugee nudged the person beside him, a puzzled look in their eyes.
“Huh? Who? I didn’t notice.”
The companion’s eyes were vacant, as if deliberately avoiding something.
“Cut the act, don’t play dumb with me!”
Years of life on the streets had made them intimately familiar with each other’s habits. The first refugee saw right through the act and shook their companion’s shoulder forcefully.
“Ouch, take it easy! Any more shaking and these old bones will fall apart…”
“Look, they were all wearing masks. How could I tell if it was the person from our bet? You can’t identify someone just by their build!”
“Hmph, I think you’re just trying to wriggle out of that black bread debt!”
At the mention of black bread, the refugee jumped as if stepped on, frantically patting their pockets but finding nothing.
“Whatever, I don’t have any jam, let alone bread… But hey, don’t you think they’re all busy with something? Is it really right for us to just stand here like idiots?”
“Don’t try changing the subject on me—it won’t work!”
The other person seemed unwilling to follow the refugee’s lead.
“Tch, there’s no talking to someone as brainless as you.”
The refugee curled their lip in disdain.
“We’re starving to death here, and you’re talking about big plans…”
…
The next day arrived in the blink of an eye.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of knocking echoed, and sunlight streamed through the crack under the door.
Who could be knocking so early in the morning?
Andina set down what she was doing and hurried to the door.
Outside stood a man in a black suit, wearing a modest black top hat and holding a gentleman’s cane engraved with golden flowers.
Behind him stood several fully armed bodyguards in sunglasses, their presence imposing.
Seeing Andina open the door, the man gave a slight bow and removed his hat, revealing hair tinged with gray and a face with sharp, resolute features.
“Hello, Miss Andina…”
The man’s voice was deep and magnetic. Andina felt a sudden sense of familiarity, and a distant memory stirred in a corner of her mind.
The next moment, the man’s introduction made everything click into place for Andina.
“I am Arka Mantis. I’ve come today to take my daughter, Luo Jiani Mantis, home.”
“So it’s Mr. Arka.”
The man before her was not just Luo Jiani’s father but also a company owner. From any perspective, Andina dared not show any discourtesy.
With light steps, she moved into the room, went straight to the kitchen to warm a pot of water, and carefully tidied the books scattered on the sofa. Only then did she turn back, wearing a smile, and invite Arka Mantis to take a seat.
“There’s no need for such formality.”
Arka stepped inside, instructing his bodyguards to wait outside the door.
“I’m only here to see my daughter.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the inner door swung open. Hearing the commotion, Luo Jiani saw Arka standing at the entrance. Her heart skipped a beat, her muddled mind clearing instantly. She stepped back repeatedly.
“F-Father.”
“You… you never said you were coming back to Mobius…”
Arka didn’t respond directly. Instead, he gently hung his black top hat on the coat rack by the door and placed the gentleman’s cane steadily in the corner.
“I’m here to take you home.”
“Take me… home?”
A nameless sense of loneliness welled up in Luo Jiani’s heart. That lonely, fractured family—she never wanted to return to it.
Even if her father before her intended to drag her back by force.
Yet when her gaze shifted to Andina, all her strength and pretense crumbled instantly.
They were all resisting, striving to overthrow the Empire. Without a goal or the ability to contribute, she could no longer stay here.
For a moment, she was caught in a dilemma.
Conversations from the past two days echoed in her mind.
She finally understood: Andina had openly revealed the rebellion plans to let her make her own choice.
Vista and Andina knew her too well—they understood her weakness, her tendency to flee.
To escape loneliness, she had once flaunted her wealth and gathered friends around her.
To escape her father, she had claimed independence and moved far away.
And now, she was about to flee from the impending danger once more.
“Time is running out…”
Renee’s voice surfaced in her mind untimely. Now, she had to make a choice again.
“Father, I think… I’d like to witness this trial. It’s my wish.”
In the end, she chose escape. Compared to the unknown dangers, she preferred returning to that familiar home, enduring her father’s reproaches and dissatisfaction.
Yet these words gave Arka pause. In some ways, Luo Jiani seemed to have changed.
“It seems this experience wasn’t entirely without merit. Thank you, Miss Andina.”
Arka gave a gentlemanly bow of gratitude to Andina, then turned to Luo Jiani, his eyes filled with tenderness and affection.
“You’ve truly grown up.”
He spoke softly, two hot tears tracing paths down his wrinkled cheeks.
Was this the stern, quick-tempered father from her memories? The one who had driven her mother away?
Now, he seemed so genuine, so… warm.
Arka stepped forward and wrapped Luo Jiani in a tight embrace. It was the first time she had felt a hug so warm and solid.
“I’m sorry, little sprite… I was wrong. Let’s go home… Of course, if you wish to continue pursuing independence, I won’t stop you. But remember, you are my daughter, and I am your father. It is my duty to protect you.”
That was the nickname her mother had given her.
Luo Jiani could no longer hold back her tears. They spilled from her eyes and streamed down her face.
