As if sensing what the audience was thinking, Leora arched an eyebrow and smiled, interjecting, "Why do you sound so presidential to me? I know people over at the Herrom Broadcasting Corporation have already started debating today whether you'll run for president next year... Will you run for president?"
She asked with keen interest.
The unexpected question seemed to hang suspended in the air, making the entire audience hold their breath.
In Lanqi's lap, Boss Cat—who had been posing as an ordinary feline—nearly jumped out of its skin!
If Lanqi actually ended up becoming president of the Protos Empire, it would never dare face Hubao again for the rest of its life!
Headmaster, Holy Son, governor... Boss Cat had gone numb to it all, step by step.
Becoming president, the supreme leader of the Empire, was the one thing Boss Cat simply could not accept!
Faced with a question that blended levity with dead seriousness, Lanqi paused in contemplation, a flicker of deep thought passing through his emerald eyes.
"Probably not, but I really am tired of seeing Protos get cheated by others."
He spoke with a steady voice, carrying an inadvertent trace of helplessness.
"Why not run, then?" Leora pressed.
"I simply feel I have no intention to run for president. I love what I'm doing right now. I truly love it," Lanqi explained.
"Perhaps if you were a bit more ambitious... no woman in this world would be able to keep up with your pace? You still want to reserve a little of your life and time for those around you, don't you?"
Leora's remark drew a ripple of laughter from the audience.
Lanqi offered a knowing smile in response.
The laughter did not linger. It came and went swiftly, like gentle ripples lapping against the shore, leaving behind nothing but a faint echo.
Lanqi lowered his head with a faint smile, then answered, "I probably won't seek higher public office, but I don't entirely rule out the possibility. If I come to believe the country is heading in the wrong direction, I might consider running."
From that moment on, every word he spoke triggered subtle reactions among the audience.
Some nodded, while others wore ardent expressions, reflecting on the deeper implications of Luoqi McCarthy's recent speeches and pondering how this man's political ambitions might reshape their lives and their nation.
The lively interview continued.
***
Meanwhile, in the commercial district on the south side of Herrom.
At eight-thirty in the evening, Herrom was a dazzling, vibrant spectacle. Colossal magical crystal display billboards and brilliant lights formed a flowing tapestry, illuminating the entire architectural complex as bright as day.
Across those holographic crystal screens, the latest fashion advertisements, blockbuster trailers, and commercial brand logos took turns playing, vying with the mall lights. Bizarre and wondrous phantasms danced in the air, phantom magic and projection barriers blurring the boundary between reality and illusion.
Amidst the bustling streets of Herrom, Hyperion and Mixiula walked in harmonious stride through the clamorous intersection, the crowd beside them flowing like merging rivers of varying colors and shapes.
"Tomorrow is our last day with permission to leave the academy. I'll take you to look for the man you've been pining for," Mixiula suggested, carrying shopping bags in hand.
"Yeah, sure." Hyperion wanted to object, but in moments like this, the more she protested, the deeper Mixiula's misunderstanding would grow.
Having arrived in the imperial capital of Herrom, a hub of information connected with the empire's southern territories, finding someone should not be difficult using the Milford family's connections.
"Actually, I told him back then that if we got separated, he should just stand in the most conspicuous place and wait for me, and I'd find him right away. I wonder if he's been foolishly staying in some prominent spot waiting for me this whole time," Hyperion recalled.
"Well, if he genuinely cares, maybe we'll spot him while we're strolling around," Mixiula replied.
If this man named Luoqi truly cared about her elder sister, he ought to do everything within his power to fulfill that promise. Only then could he be considered reliable.
"No, no, no—he absolutely must not get any wild ideas! Living a quiet, steady life is the best!" Hyperion waved her hands repeatedly.
Mixiula had no idea that the fellow's way of thinking was entirely different from a normal person's.
"What? Is he the kind of man who would squander all the hard-earned money you've saved up, and then keep asking you for more?" Mixiula's suspicions flared up again, deeply worried that her pure sister was being duped by a scoundrel.
"It's really not that... He has never asked me for money." It was difficult for Hyperion to explain what kind of man Lanqi was; Mixiula would only understand once she met him.
Just as she was about to give an example of what Lanqi might do, she felt as though she heard his familiar speaking voice.
"...Am I hallucinating? Did I just hear his voice?"
Hyperion pressed a hand to her temple, looking around in bewilderment.
She saw nothing out of the ordinary, yet this sensation of a voice drifting from the heavens felt far too surreal.
"Sister, you miss him too much," Mixiula sighed, thinking love truly made people blind. "Wait... I think I hear that voice you mentioned too."
Mixiula suddenly realized that a man's voice was indeed echoing through the commercial district, drifting from between the buildings on the edge of the distant plaza.
"No way..."
Hyperion's expression turned noticeably tense.
Her heart quickened along with her pace, and she hurried toward the plaza ahead where the sound originated, Mixiula following close behind.
"It should be fine. I probably misheard, or maybe..."
Hyperion kept muttering under her breath, almost praying to the Goddess. Surely Lanqi wouldn't do anything too outrageous in the Protos Empire, and surely he had properly understood what she told him back then.
No matter what happened, she had to stay calm and keep a level head.
That was until Hyperion rounded the corner and stepped onto the wide, open central plaza of the commercial district.
Every screen across the surrounding skyline was broadcasting the exact same footage, and at this moment, the voice resonated as if encircling the shore of a crystal sea.
Mixiula skidded to a halt, staring blankly at her sister, whose feet seemed rooted to the spot.
The normally elegant young lady stood with her mouth agape, gazing at the open-air giant screen, her pupils trembling, completely unable to utter a single word.
Mixiula turned her eyes toward the screen as well.
On the furthest colossal display, a young man with brown hair and green eyes dressed in a purple suit was conversing effortlessly with national host Leora.
"You say that although you have no intention to run, you believe you would win," the host asked inquisitively.
The young man did not rush to answer. Instead, he let his silence linger in the air for several seconds—both out of respect for her question and to collect his thoughts.
He tilted his shoulders, smiled faintly, and looked directly at Leora before turning toward the audience, as though inviting everyone into his inner world.
"I don't really know, but I think I could win. Let me tell you, I rarely fail in life," he began, his voice calm and brimming with confidence. "If I were inclined to run for president, I believe I'd have a much better chance of winning everyone's favor. I'd say my odds of winning are very, very high. Because while I don't know what the audience thinks, I believe the people are just like me—tired of seeing the Protos Empire get cheated by others."
Beneath the ring of giant screens towering over the plaza, Hyperion snapped.
"Fuck!"
Chapter 373