So, he stuffed the business intelligence sent from Carterburg back into the mail tube, and then instructed his messenger to deliver it to Lillim. Malin’s little lamb would certainly handle everything well for Malin; she and her descendants had never disappointed the Gaiate Group. Beneath the starry sky, Malin could sense Maya, who was also bathing in the moonlight, feeling Malin’s gaze. Maya, lying on a recliner, smiled and squinted her eyes. · Everything okay, Malin. · All is well, in the subway lies the former masters of this land. When Malin said this, he once again thought of that statue. You see, fate and history are just like that, cold and cruel. Whether it’s the Anglo-Saxons destroying the history of the Indians or Chaos destroying everything of the former, this is the history of this land... These so-called noble nations once again face survival of the fittest, only this time, they are the prey, and Chaos is the butcher. Some of the distressed people received kind treatment from the natives, but in the days that followed, they occupied the nest. In history, this is called conquest, but Malin can only see destruction in history. Ultimately, in all lines of history, humans on this planet perished, and these former masters of this land in the subway will also vanish in history. Are they really worth saving. The descendants of these robbers, the offspring of these deceivers, the children of these thieves fundamentally made Malin feel disgust. But throughout this journey, Malin also saw only some pitiable people struggling to survive. Malin could not break his oath, as they are still human, children of this planet, even if their ancestors were deceitful. He heard Maya calling out. · Onor wishes to know how long they need to wait for you. · Tell them, a war is breaking out underground in Washington, renegade forces from Chaos are attacking the Underground City. If Chaos on the surface gathers excessively, I hope they can wait a few days, at least until I can ascertain when Chaos will cease their offensive. Upon hearing Malin’s reply, Maya expressed that she would relay this information to Onor. Then this girl said she was going to sleep too. After saying goodnight, Malin retracted his domain and looked at the patched subway ceiling, sighing inwardly. Malin wanted to get a deeper understanding of these subway residents. If they haven’t committed great evils, Malin would not put them on the extinction list. Human infighting is ultimately an internal matter among humans, and Malin doesn’t mind leaving a necessary touch of evil for the naive people of Europa and the Eastern Land to understand the sinister nature of human hearts. Thinking of this, Malin closed his eyes. Then opened them again. Realizing he was sitting on a subway bench, Malin softly stroked the mushroom he held in his arms, which looked around drowsily. The subway was brightly lit, and virtual projection billboards were displaying ads about the largest Bird Swivel Entertainment Center in Carterburg. · Our center will serve every guest experiencing a spiritual winter, so be sure to come, everyone. Ah, come on now, stop using musclemen for your ads, can’t you pick a few pretty girls. Malin spat disdainfully, as people came and went in the subway. Some were watching, while others were wandering, but everyone kept a cautious distance from Malin, largely due to Miss Spotty’s snorting. She hadn’t done anything, yet everyone showed respect and fear toward this legendary spirit. Sitting on the bench, Malin watched as the content of the ads changed repeatedly until an officer in grey uniform, accompanied by several mobile patrol officers, approached. "Kid, is this your pet?" Perhaps because both Malin and the mushroom seemed small, and Spotty loyally guarded him, the red-haired officer squatted down and asked Malin. Though speaking in English, it carried a Carterburg accent. Malin nodded: "My pet." Using Thainan language, also with a Carterburg accent. "Southerner, Mark, you got the wrong person." The mobile patrol officers turned and walked away, while the squatting officer insultingly connected to the command center, reporting the situation here. After hanging up, he looked at Malin: "Are you from District Seven or District Eleven." "Is there a difference?" Malin chuckled in response. The mushroom in Malin’s arms curiously glanced at the grilled meat in the ad, while Miss Spotty rested her head on Malin’s lap for him to pat. The officer felt the surroundings’ temperature start to drop, his many years of professional experience quickly made him realize that he was standing before a Transcendent. A very strong Transcendent. As for Transcendents, you should not judge them by gender or age because what you see might not be real. "There’s a difference because you don’t appear to be from either district; let me put it this way, the Thanans from District Seven are all wealthy, and if you’re a child from District Seven, then your private guards are likely searching all over Washington D.C. for you, I want to live, and can only tell them you’re here." After saying this, Officer Mark felt the temperature rise, he sighed, then continued: "If you’re a Southerner from District Eleven..." "There wouldn’t be so many issues, right?" Malin laughed and asked. "Not really, Southern people of District Eleven have dominant Panthera genes and carry children of the legendary Snow Leopard spirits, only the Gaiate family... I found their runaway child, they should pay me a heap of money, then I can leave this cursed place in District Nineteen." "District Nineteen, what’s wrong with it?" Malin grew slightly curious. "District Nineteen just became a new member of the global morning news ’Good Morning Carterburg’s Dead Lottery Draft,’ here, every day, police officers like us confront death, to the extent that betting on police deaths would result in losses." With that said, this officer sighed: "Obviously, you’re not." Then the officer got up and headed for the exit: "By the way, I know you’re very strong, but be careful, not every cat has a very high resistance to neurotoxins, those gang members are all lunatics." "Understood." Malin smiled at the officer: "Thank you, Officer Mark." "Ah... yes, just noticed the others mentioned my name earlier." The officer smiled a bit awkwardly. He didn’t notice a slender figure standing before him. Malin pointed at the figure, prompting the officer to note Malin’s gesture, then looked at the man standing beside him. "Your friend told me you took in a cat person named Mars three days ago." "Yes, that kid got beaten badly, but he already left yesterday." Officer Mark frowned as he said this: "By the way, who are you." "Who I am isn’t important; he lost a lot of blood, the things he used to handle his wounds, are they still here." "Yes, I forgot to throw away the trash when I went to work this morning, but who are you anyway." "Knowing too much can make you die quickly." With that part of the conversation, Malin saw the figure take out a gun from nowhere and hold it against Officer Mark’s head. Just moments ago, Malin had used Mars’ identification number on the betting site to wager two hundred dollars that no police officer would die today in District Nineteen of Washington, he glanced at his hand, still on the virtual betting screen’s confirmation button. At the instant when the tall individual pulled the trigger, Malin’s Psychic Palm acted first, sending the assailant crashing into a distant wall. Malin jumped off the chair, holding the mushroom with one arm while petting Spotty with the other, and he smiled as he looked at the young man extricating himself from the wall. Cutting off one’s financial path is akin to murdering one’s parents, my friend, you are now my enemy. The next second, the free hand gripped the young man’s neck as he extended it, locking eyes with the young man. Kid, face me and tell me... what is this all for.