Chapter Thirty: Where Resolve Lies

Step by step, Xiayan walked forward until he stood beside Levin.

“Levin, where is Gu Yue’er?” he demanded.

Levin remained silent, his eyes burning with hatred and frustration.

“Will you talk or not?” Xiayan pressed Levin’s head beneath his foot, making no effort to hide the murderous intent in his gaze.

Levin kept his silence.

“If you tell me, I’ll spare your miserable life,” Xiayan continued. “You have five seconds to decide.”

“Xiayan, even if you kill me, I won’t answer any of your questions,” Levin gritted out. “I’ll never give you what you want. Never.”

Had he simply uttered “I won’t say,” it would have been no different than admitting that his side had taken the person. Levin, even faced with death, would never be so foolish.

“Very well.” Xiayan nodded, pressing down harder with his foot. “You want to die? Sorry, I won’t grant you an easy death. First, I’ll flay you alive and see if that makes you talk.”

Without another word, he acted. With a swift flick of his “Shifting Blade,” a strip of skin was sliced clean from Levin’s hand.

Levin stifled his agony, the pain so intense it nearly drove him mad, making him long for death.

Still, he refused to yield. He’d rather die than surrender.

“Why do you want to awaken Gu Yue’er’s second ability? What’s your reason?” Xiayan asked, his blade flashing again.

Levin couldn’t hold back this time, a cry of pain escaping his lips. Amidst the torment, he was even more bewildered—how could Xiayan know so much?

“Will you talk?” Xiayan raised his blade again.

Many in the crowd could barely watch, their faces averted in pity. They couldn’t understand how Xiayan had managed to resurrect himself so thoroughly, but at this moment, it was Levin who aroused their deepest sympathy.

At last, one of the mentors could bear it no longer and hurried onto the field.

“It’s Mentor Austin!”

“Even Mentor Austin can’t stand by. He’s going to intervene!”

“They say Mentor Austin’s strength is on par with the ‘Agency Management,’ maybe even their equal. Besides, Xiayan’s team is badly depleted; he might not be able to withstand him.”

“Some say Mentor Austin is a demonkin, though it’s never been confirmed.”

“Are they going to fight? Xiayan should back down—no need to challenge this mentor now that he’s already won.”

Many were worried for Xiayan, fearing his recklessness.

“Xiayan, this match is over—” Mentor Austin called out.

“Get lost!” Xiayan shot him a glare, his tone laced with fury.

Austin’s face turned icy. “Xiayan, watch your mouth. You’re insulting a mentor!”

“I said get lost!”

Xiayan had no patience for words. His right hand clenched into a fist and he struck out directly.

“Damn, what speed—!” Austin was shocked, forced to react with all his might, holding nothing back.

Demonization!

Wings sprang from Austin’s back as he transformed instantly, but Xiayan’s fist was already upon him.

Block!

The onlookers watched in disbelief as Austin was sent flying by a single punch. His face turned crimson from the effort to resist, yet it was futile—he was knocked across the arena, coughing up blood, grievously wounded.

All from a single punch.

Xiayan’s sudden “resurrection” had already stunned the crowd, but now they were on the verge of madness, unable to process what had just happened.

A single punch—to send a demonized mentor flying, leaving him on the ground, spitting blood.

What power was this? What was happening?

It was as if Xiayan had overturned the very rules of the world.

Everyone present knew Mentor Austin’s strength; he was certainly superior to most ordinary agency members, perhaps even rivaling the management. Some even believed he was their equal.

But why, then, had he been unable to withstand even a single punch from Xiayan?

The gap between them was like that between an ability user and an ordinary person, between management and a regular member—an insurmountable chasm.

It was total domination. Xiayan could have killed Austin within three seconds.

The crowd exchanged incredulous glances. It was simply unfathomable.

Lying on the ground, Austin’s eyes were filled with terror and disbelief—a fear of death so profound it was all-consuming.

He faced two choices: to fight Xiayan with everything he had, unveiling his ultimate moves—certain death. Or, swallow his pride and retreat in disgrace—at least he’d survive.

He didn’t hesitate, choosing the latter. Fighting without hope was suicide, and he was a smart demonkin. He wouldn’t die for Levin, who was nothing but a discarded, worthless pawn.

So, before them all, this demonkin mentor slunk away without a backward glance at Xiayan. It might have been a laughingstock, yet no one dared to laugh, for Xiayan’s terrifying power had struck fear into the hearts of all the mentors.

The difference in strength was now of another dimension.

Levin’s breath was fading; he wouldn’t live much longer. He fought to stay conscious, unwilling to slip into oblivion.

Thus, he witnessed a scene so unbelievable, it could have shattered him a dozen times over.

Why—why, after his desperate struggle, had Xiayan grown even stronger?

And by so much!

Levin could accept dying, but not like this, not so meaningless a death, not as Xiayan’s stepping stone. Was everything he’d done utterly useless—worse, did it only serve to strengthen his foe?

That thought made Levin spit blood again. The last shred of hope vanished from his eyes, replaced by utter despair.

“Levin, will you talk?” Xiayan asked, blade poised. Not waiting for a response, he began slicing off layers of Levin’s flesh.

Levin clenched his teeth, cold sweat pouring down as his body trembled. He tried not to cry out, but the pain broke him, and screams tore from his lips.

He still clung to his beliefs—death was not frightening. He only hated that he was so weak, unable to hurt Xiayan at all.

“It doesn’t matter if you won’t talk,” Xiayan said slowly. “I’ll go to your agency head and force her to tell me everything.”

“You—” Levin’s eyes grew wild with madness.

“She’ll die just like you… and it won’t be easy,” Xiayan said softly.

“You—you think… you can… cough… Xiayan, if you… if you dare touch the agency head, you’ll… you’ll die a horrible… a horrible death!”

“What a shame, Levin. You won’t get to see it. But don’t worry—wait for her in hell. She’ll join you soon enough.” Xiayan lifted his foot and, without a flicker of mercy, crushed Levin’s skull, scattering blood and brain matter across the ground, his own expression unmoved.

Levin would never divulge a single secret—on that point, he was no coward.

The crowd stood in stunned silence, staring at Levin’s wretched corpse. This was no dueling arena; they were all agency members and had no wish to draw the enmity of the demonkin.

This battle had made Xiayan’s name resound with awe. His strength was recognized not just as agency management level, but among the very top—perhaps third, second, or even first.

Xiayan ignored the so-called audience, striding steadily out of the arena.

…

Shortly after leaving the arena, Xiayan realized he couldn’t contact Tao Lu. She was nowhere to be found, and even as he left, she didn’t appear.

Why was this? Xiayan couldn’t understand. Tao Lu still had many of his things—this C102 Fury, D203 Frenzy, the D-class dagger, and other odds and ends.

She couldn’t have simply left the arena, unless she’d departed as soon as he won.

Xiayan frowned and tried again to reach her through his communicator, but the result was the same: “Out of service area.”

Out of service area? Impossible.

There was only one explanation—Tao Lu had blocked his calls.

He was deeply puzzled, a vague sense of foreboding gnawing at him. It felt like a final farewell, but he had no time to dwell on it. There was no time for hesitation—he had to move on.

There were still two things to do: rescue Gu Yue’er and rescue Ding Li.

…

Soon, Gong Kui found him.

“Xiayan…” she hurried over. “What are you going to do next? You look… different.”

“I’m going to confront the agency head,” Xiayan replied coldly. “It doesn’t matter if she’s not in the agency, or if she refuses to see me. I’ll go straight to her residence. If she’s not there, I’ll destroy the place and wait for her return.”

“Don’t be reckless,” Gong Kui protested, troubled. “The agency head’s strength is far beyond any mentor or management member. You’re not her match.”

Xiayan gave a bitter smile. “Miss Gong Kui, I’m not being reckless. But if I don’t act, and time drags on, Gu Yue’er will die by their hands.”

“I want to wait, but I can’t. I can’t watch my friend die,” he said earnestly. “That would be worse than death for me. So, I have to try.”

Xiayan had never been reckless—he was renowned for his cunning and composure. Nearly everyone who knew him, especially the inmates, would say so.

Even after leaving the prison, Xiayan remained a man of strategy.

But if strategy failed, then no amount of scheming would matter. This wasn’t the prison, where tricks could turn the tide; here, pure power reigned supreme. Against someone like Director Ai You, cleverness was meaningless.

Xiayan had no choice—he could only fight with all he had, no shortcuts.

If he didn’t, Gu Yue’er would die.

“Calm down. Throwing your life away is pointless…” Gong Kui’s tone turned cold. “This is not a battle you can win. I’m certain the agency head’s brain development is at least over 40.”

“And if you attack her first, she has the right to kill you. This isn’t like with Levin—you have no right to lay a hand on the agency head.”

“Over forty percent…” Xiayan’s eyes flickered and he gritted his teeth. “It’s possible. There’s still hope.”

“Shut up, Xiayan! You’re insane,” Gong Kui snapped. “With your current strength, facing Director Ai You would mean instant death—instant!”

The usually composed young woman couldn’t help but raise her voice. She was right—the gap in strength was insurmountable.

How could someone who’d struggled for decades be overtaken so quickly?

“Miss Gong Kui, tell me where Director Ai You is. I need to find her.”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head.

“Tell me!” Xiayan demanded, agitated.

“I really don’t know,” she insisted. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t let you throw your life away!”

Xiayan clenched his teeth in frustration, but could only turn and leave.

Gong Kui watched his departing figure, murmuring, “Xiayan, you’re far more valuable than Gu Yue’er. Her life and death don’t matter—what matters is that you survive. Why can’t you understand that?”

Her expression was full of regret.

…

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of Wanyo Group in Fuxiang City.

Wanyo Group was the largest civilian corporation in the district, so dominant that people joked the city was their backyard, with the company controlling the majority of civil industries.

On the seventy-second floor, in the chairman’s office—

“Chairman, do you mean to say we should mobilize our subordinate forces to help find someone?” the assistant exclaimed in disbelief.

“A young woman named Gu Yue’er has gone missing from the Ability Training Institute. We’re to use every resource at our disposal to find her,” Chairman Tao instructed. “So far, all we know is that a woman named Director Ai You is involved. Investigate everything about her—any clue could help.”

“This task is yours. Also, contact all civilian media, newspapers, and so on. Offer a reward so the public will help search. And make sure information about Director Ai You is discreetly distributed.”

The media wouldn’t print the name of an agency head, but Wanyo Group had its ways of spreading information throughout the city. They had the resources—they were the giants of the region.

“But offending an agency director is… unwise…” the assistant said nervously.

“Just do as I say—no more questions,” Chairman Tao answered, displeased.

“Sorry, I’ll see to it at once,” the assistant replied, not daring to delay. In her world, the boss’s word was law; if she wouldn’t do it, there were countless others who would. As for reasons—what subordinate needed an explanation?

Chairman Tao watched her leave, smiling ruefully to himself. “Ah, what can I do? I only have one daughter. How can a father refuse her anything?”