Incapable

It was just like strolling along merrily, eating hot pot and singing songs, only to be suddenly ambushed by the Evil Transmutation Cult. Just as Boggio hardened his resolve, a piercing alarm shrieked across the luxurious yacht. The warning devices on everyone aboard vibrated frantically, buzzing with shrill urgency. Before anyone could even react, an eerie, monstrous bolt of lightning descended from the heavens like a wrathful dragon, bursting forth from storm clouds that had gathered out of thin air! Striking with ruthless, unhesitating malice, it engulfed a yacht bearing the Chopra family crest. Barriers materialized in thin air only to be ripped apart with ease. Behind Boggio, the guards who had reflexively stepped forward to shield him were instantly scorched black, reduced to charred cinders. Yet the lightning remained ferocious, crashing down with thunderous force! In his haste, Boggio only had time to raise his hand. Upon his finger, another ring flared with light. Under its shimmering radiance, the lightning was erased from existence as if it were a mere phantom. An Ascension reality revision! The price was fractures splitting across the ring's face before the entire band melted into a puddle of liquid, nearly searing his finger off. And now, directly above everyone's heads within the conjured dark clouds, countless sinister grayish-black tentacles spread outward, faintly weaving together the grotesque silhouette of an entity with three heads and six arms. Across its three twisted faces, the eyes remained closed as if in slumber, shedding tracks of bloody tears that slowly trickled down smiling, compassionate countenances and dripped toward the earth below. Upon the hands raised by that aberrant shadow, the faint glint of lightning began to kindle once more. Boggio's pupils constricted. "—The Bloodstained Mother!" That was the aberrant spirit passed down through generations of the Sukarno family—a brutal, unholy fiend requiring massive sacrifices of living souls each time it was mobilized... This was retaliation! The Sukarnos' retaliation! The retaliation had come far too swiftly, far too insanely... bordering on sheer hysteria. Had that old bastard of the Sukarno family lost his mind?! To blatantly bring out an abominable thing that could never see the light of day! They weren't even bothering to keep up appearances anymore, throwing all consideration of consequences to the wind... "Young Master, Young Master!" Beside Boggio, his stunned secretary looked down at a notification popping up on his phone and nearly shrieked, "Look at this, quick..." On the screen was a video newly published to an online platform. The Seven Cities Joint Defense Fleet had publicly broadcasted the execution of Renut, commander of the Venom Fleet... Except hardly anyone would have been able to recognize at first glance that the wretch kneeling on the ground, weeping disgustingly with snot and tears running down his face, was the former leader of the Venom Fleet—a notorious pirate brute. "I have brought ruin to the world, I have failed humanity, I... I am a sinner... I regret it all..." Strapped to an electric chair, Renut wailed and thrashed, convulsing in terror. "I beg of you, don't do it again, please, no more... I should never have been born, I... Right! It—it wasn't just me! The Sukarno family ordered me to do it! It was all them, that old bastard, and his eldest son, and his second son... They told me to kidnap those people and then..." No one knew what unspeakable torment he had endured, but a Frenzied Slaughter corrupted one who had never valued his own life or anyone else's was now thoroughly reduced to a sniveling clown. Just to cling to life, he blabbed every illicit deed he had ever carried out for the Sukarnos, crime by crime, detail by detail. Yet through it all, the executioner remained indifferent and unmoved. He merely soaked Renut's hair and head thoroughly with a wet towel, draping it over that twisted, broken face. Then, without hesitation, he yanked the power switch! With a harrowing shriek, plumes of thick smoke billowed from beneath the wet towel. Right before the eyes of all viewers, Renut was burned to a crisp. He died like a stray dog in a ditch. And in doing so, he had successfully fulfilled the greatest purpose of his miserable life... thoroughly shredding the frail tacit understanding and long-standing charade between the two families. The deeds of Luocheng, the atrocities of the Sukarno family—all of it laid bare before the entire world! Plastered right before everyone's eyes! At the end of the video, a ringing, furious declaration was even dubbed in: "—We, the Chopra family, shall never share the same sky with evil!" Except, why did those words sound so eerily familiar... Everyone who caught on couldn't help glaring furiously toward a certain clan elder who was slowly freezing in shock. The video had been posted right when they were arguing in the conference room—edited and uploaded on the fly, piping hot and fresh out of the oven! It made full use of the art of montage, interspersing clips of the conference attendees shouting in righteous indignation, making it appear as though the Chopras had reached a unanimous consensus to declare war on the Sukarnos! In less than half an hour, the video had already swept across the Four Seas and even reached the Mid-Continent, the Empire, and the Federation, claiming front-page headlines across numerous news sites. Even though the Sukarno family immediately stepped forward to denounce it as malicious slander and shameless framing by shadowy conspirators, it was futile. Nothing could stop it now. The depth charge had been dropped; what was rippling outward now was merely the initial wave. Yet on a matter of such monumental importance, not a single person present had received the slightest whisper until just now... Only moments ago, they had still been playing out that farce of fraternal affection, each nursing their own hidden schemes. Who could have guessed that someone had already flipped the table and set the entire stage ablaze? And then sold out the entire Chopra family without leaving so much as a scrap! "Minkler!!!" Boggio roared in uncontrollable fury, no longer able to hold back from cursing that bastard child born of a whore. This act—tantamount to an open declaration of war—had completely severed any possibility of pretense, negotiation, or stalling for time. Pushed to the edge of the cliff was not only the Sukarno family, who would soon face the condemnation of thousands and the scrutiny of every faction, but also the Chopras, who were seen as the instigators. From this day forth among the Seven Cities, only one could remain between the Sukarnos and the Chopras. The loser would be branded the slanderer, the scapegoat scum of the Seven Cities, the first sacrificial offering in this struggle... Boggio had thought Minkler went through all this trouble to fight for the position of family head, but he had never imagined that from the very beginning, Minkler wasn't even playing the same game—he wasn't even playing in the same genre! Minkler didn't want to be patriarch. He didn't want the Chopra family. He didn't even want the so-called Chopras to continue existing! From the moment he saw his mother's ashes dug up and used as curse materials to claim his life, he had only one purpose left: He wanted the Chopra family dead! Every last one of them! As it turned out, so long as you didn't care about winning, the gameplay experience only grew more entertaining. Just like right now... The Sukarno family had chosen immediate war, while the Chopras hadn't even processed what was happening, still trying out of habit to drag things out... "Are you blind, old bastard?!" Drenched in cold sweat, Boggio yelled up at the Bloodstained Mother in the sky, "This was all that whelp Minkler acting on his own! Listen to me, the Chopras didn't—" High in the sky, the grotesque monstrosity known as the Bloodstained Mother remained aloof. On its leftmost face, the eye weeping bloody tears snapped wide open. A writhing hand composed of countless entangled tentacles pressed down from above. *Boom!* A strike of crushing ruin obliterated the yacht into splinters. Screams erupted amidst the showering debris and gore—though sadly, the victims were all subordinates brought along for the ride. In an instant, they were completely drained by that power, reduced to fine ash. Right before the colossal hand crashed down, a small vial hidden in Boggio's hand behind his back suddenly shone with faint light. The holy oil within incinerated completely, and dense, pale smoke billowed out, forming an eerie outline in the air. Answering the call from afar, the House God's tentacles tore through the void, wrapping around all the Chopra descendants and assimilating them into near-incorporeal phantoms before whisking them away into the distance, vanishing without a trace. They ran! Having missed its strike, the Bloodstained Mother let out a shrill screech. It glared viciously in the direction they had fled, then turned back, ferocity contorting its once-compassionate visage. It looked toward its original objective—the Seven Cities Joint Defense fleet base! One by one, its closed eyes snapped open. Murderous intent blazed forth, hungry and voracious! "Tsk, tucked tail and ran already?" Ji Jue lowered his binoculars and sighed. "Against just this thing? That House God of yours sounds so impressive, so why didn't it dare throw down with it?" "The House God isn't that obedient," Minkler said, shaking his head. "Besides, if it actually fought here, wouldn't that be standing up for a bastard like me?" "This retaliation is pretty petty too—tossing out some Great Sin abomination just for show." Ji Jue sighed in disappointment. "I thought at least a Celestial-Human would show up." "...A Celestial-Human?" Minkler's face twitched once, then twice, words catching in his throat. *Excuse me, are Celestial-Humans just stray dogs lying by the roadside now?* *Anyone listening would think you, Master Ji, slaughter Celestial-Humans like mutts!* To be fair, everyone's ancestors had once been grand. Which of the seven families hadn't produced a Celestial-Human back in the day? If they hadn't, how could they have built such massive houses? Regrettably, the past was the past, and now was now. Their descendants were degenerate. There was no helping it. The reason surpassing the master was hailed as such a glorious miracle was precisely because each generation being worse than the last was the true, universal law of the world. Did he think one could just become a Celestial-Human whenever they felt like it? Resolve, timing, capability, talent, heritage, accumulation, foundation, opportunity—not a single one could be lacking! It wasn't something that could simply be brute-forced by piling on resources. If someone wasn't cut out for it, lacking the talent and luck, no amount of wealth would ever suffice! If a family or faction could genuinely guarantee churning out a Celestial-Human in every generation, why would they be stuck playing matchmaking in a muddy cesspool like the Thousand Islands? Besides, even if their backers had a Celestial-Human, it would mean everyone else acted as dogs for that Celestial-Human, risking life and limb to the bitter end. Where in the world was the logic of a dignified Celestial-Human being called in to plunge the toilets at Ten Pines Manor the moment a leaf twitched? And what was more... —Could those Celestial-Humans of theirs even see the light of day? The Mid-Continent was a crucible of war, destined for unending life-or-death slaughter and ceaseless unrest. Meanwhile, the Thousand Islands was a foul cesspool; the vast expanse of the Endless Sea had created countless no-man's-lands and isolated isles, with who knew how many places still languishing in primitive societies. This long-term isolation and extreme disparity of resources resulted in everyone developing styles more bizarre than the next, and conflicts turning crueler with every iteration. Such was the prevailing culture, and the Seven Cities were no exception—in fact, amidst the concentration and circulation of colossal resources, it was even more exaggerated. Driven by the catalysis of diverse interests and factional tugs-of-war, on the surface everyone acted holier-than-thou, while in the shadows, each was filthier than the next. Colluding and entangling themselves with all manner of shameful abominations was practically second nature. No one had any right to pretend to be a pure white lotus. The Chopra family included. Never mind the House God, which was clearly an artificial evil spirit fed on human flesh; one only had to look at the matrix Boggio had handed Minkler like some precious treasure. Matrix: Hydra—a composite matrix blending the Swarm and Vortex lineages. It boasted both the raw stats and recovery speed of Swarm alongside the vitality and massive health pool of Vortex... but it also inherited the corruption risks of Swarm and the mutation hazards of Vortex. Stacking those two together made the probability of corruption and aberration sky-high! It claimed that severing one head would sprout two in its place. Identical matrices linked with one another, offering mutual support; within a certain range, users could share vitality and power. It looked extraordinarily formidable, but in reality, it treated the users entirely as disposable pawns, tricking unwitting victims into spilling their blood and working themselves to death, only for their souls to bear the brunt of the backlash once they were burned down to embers. And never mind that the offering for the Heritage Burnt Offering hadn't even been provided... why was the legendary Hydra famously a nine-headed serpent, yet there were only eight matrices here? Where had the most crucial remaining piece gone?! It was a blatant ploy treating Minkler like a fool! Anyone else in his shoes might have been manipulated to death while still believing they had found a benevolent master, weeping tears of gratitude. The entire matrix—from its overall design and underlying concepts to its functional levers, tactical execution, and practical domain—carried a heavy air of ancient artisans, giving Ji Jue quite a few fresh insights and ideas. "I say... Old Ji..." Minkler's voice trembled. "Hm?" Analyzing the matrix in his hands, Ji Jue asked without looking up, "What's up?" "Did you... forget something?" Minkler swallowed hard, his face pale as he fought down the urge for his knees to knock together. He looked up at the dark clouds churning across the sky—and at those three monstrous, frenzied faces rushing toward them at breakneck speed. "Forget what?" Ji Jue waved a hand dismissively. "Forgot nothing. Rest easy, my son. Everything is proceeding according to your father's plan!" Hearing that, Minkler sounded even more aggrieved and indignant, on the verge of tears. All the aggro had been pulled, the taunts had all been broadcasted, and now the boss was practically dropping right onto their faces... "Then why aren't you moving?!" Not only was he not moving, he hadn't even lifted his head—he was still examining that damned matrix! "He's not answering his phone, so at least do something yourself!" "Told you already, just sit tight. Is trash like this worthy of my personal attention?" Ji Jue cast a sidelong glance at the descending Bloodstained Mother and gave a cold chuckle. "Just watch the younger lads crush the foe!" Saying so, he turned around and looked toward the poor bastard who had been working past midnight out in the base courtyard outside the window. "Little Lou, over to you!" "...Ji, do you think I'm deaf or something?!" Lou Feng's eye twitched uncontrollably as he looked up and roared, "If you've got nothing better to do, go find a rope and hang yourself! Can you shut your barking hole already?!" "Aw, aren't I just cheering you on?" Ji Jue said with profound gravity, "This is the very first public assignment for our joint workshop, after all. You've got to look sharp, wouldn't you say? We both clawed our way through the Association's rat race, so don't you dare lose face now! Don't go disappointing our distinguished sponsor!" Watching the Bloodstained Mother plummet from the heavens, its three monstrous faces looming closer by the second, while that ceaseless barking kept buzzing in his ears, Lou Feng—who had worked overtime for an entire week straight only to be summoned to the Seven Cities by a single phone call to toil like a beast of burden—felt his vision swim with rage. *Fine, fine, fine, you want to play like this?!* *No matter what, I am a dignified artisan, a young master of the Lou family, high nobility of the Federation! I'm not some indentured laborer on your assembly line, Ji!* Ignoring the Bloodstained Mother bearing down malevolently from above and the pitch-black giant hand descending from the clouds, Lou Feng sneered, threw his hands up, and prepared to drop the job and walk away—only to hear a faint, wistful sigh carry on the wind. Sounding as though resigned and helpless: "Of course, if you're incapable, I could always..." *Boom!* In an instant, ten thousand beams of radiant light erupted from the earth. Boundless crystals proliferated, blasting outward with a deafening roar. Between the dark heavens and earth, brilliant, blazing light converged into a rushing torrent, piercing through the iron-like storm clouds overhead. A sharply defined, crystalline pillar rose from the ground like a colossal blade thrusting up from beneath the earth. Whistling through the air, it impaled the grotesque giant hand descending toward them, slammed head-on into the central face of the Bloodstained Mother, and punched straight out through the back of its skull... A downpour of putrid, bloody rain rained down. Amidst the creature's shrill, piercing shriek, a furious, flustered roar echoed across the battlefield: "Who are you calling incapable?!"