Chapter 111: If I Don

"The Congress Building was attacked by assailants."

"The Holy Son of Heaven is missing, whereabouts unknown."

"Nearly all cabinet ministers were wiped out."

Whether in newspapers, on television, or online, every channel was flooded with reports of the incident—overwhelming information, countless first-person accounts, on-site footage, eyewitness interviews, and massive waves of frenzied discussion that flooded every forum.

And this earth-shattering event truly warranted such intense attention.

The Defense Force, Self-Defense Corps, Security Units, and Police—all forces were deployed to capture the perpetrator.

Smash!

A palm slammed onto the desk, the force so powerful it shook the black ebony table—the size of a grand piano—twice.

"Who could possibly have the audacity to do something like this! It's truly..." That hand was pale, almost sickly, slender, with blue veins visible beneath the skin—clearly belonging to a girl.

"Yes, who could it be?"

Just as she was about to launch another tirade, a low voice suddenly sounded beside her—a towering, ghostly black figure emerged silently from the shadows.

"Mmmmm."

The next instant, a massive hand like an iron clamp clamped over the girl's mouth; her desperate struggles and resistance were utterly ignored by the powerful arms and terrifying strength, followed by a soft *click*—her eyes still wide with terror, her body went limp and collapsed.

"So this is the 'Tendo Civil Security Company' you mentioned, Yanzhu?" The owner of that large hand was Jia Ji—the very man who had broken in to assault the girl.

"And this is the big-chested sister you talked about?"

He pointed again at the woman he had just knocked unconscious—Tendo Mokkō, the company's CEO.

The unconscious girl appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen, dressed in a sleek black sailor uniform, her long, straight, glossy black hair reaching her waist, her skin as pale and smooth as powdered snow, her figure slender, her features delicate.

But Jia Ji noticed her complexion was unnaturally pale, possessing a sickly beauty.

"Yes, that's her!"

Beside Jia Ji, little Yanzhu, her twin tails tightly bound with a hair ribbon, stuck out her tongue at the unconscious Tendo Mokkō and nodded.

"Good. We'll make this our temporary base and plan our next move."

Jia Ji moved the unconscious girl aside, sat down in the leather armchair, ruffled his hair, and removed the metal mask from his face. He took several deep breaths, allowing his overheated, tense body to gradually cool.

He was reflecting—on how quickly he had killed.

He had cut the victims into pieces before the Protection of the Cursed Children bill had even passed—too impulsive, too carried away, until it became nothing but an act of rage.

But it wasn't entirely his fault; before experiencing this world firsthand, who could have known it was this absurd?

One after another, they stepped forward to provoke him—utterly illogical, yet not a single one begged for mercy before he slaughtered them all.

Honor?

Not that kind of thing.

Just brain damage.

No wonder this world, where children are treated as expendable resources, is teeming with stubborn, idiotic fools—discrimination against the Cursed Children is deeply rooted.

If some Ice Queen were here, she'd probably mock him for killing too fast, leaving no one time to beg before they were all dead.

But no matter what—if Jia Ji had to do it again, he'd still thoroughly disinfect and completely annihilate these filth.

Because the more they resist, the clearer it becomes: there is no other way to save the Cursed Children.

What to do? Only kill.

"So it won't be easy to resolve this after all..."

The implication: clearly, killing just these few won't solve anything.

Soon after his massacre, urgent alarm sirens and footsteps rang outside the building; with his superhuman hearing, Jia Ji judged at least a hundred and twenty fully armed, gun-wielding soldiers were preparing to encircle him from all sides, with many more—multiple times that number—gathering farther away.

Though to a disciple of Beidou Shenhua, guns were nothing but firesticks, remembering little Yanzhu waiting obediently outside because he'd said, "I'll just go in and take care of something, then come out," Jia Ji decided to withdraw for now.

After all, no child should witness a bloody killing—it's bad for their psychological development.

The first soldiers to push open the broken door turned pale, drenched in cold sweat, trembling so violently they could barely hold their rifles—they found no intruder, but saw...

—【Hell】

Death was commonplace in this era, yet now it sent every arriving soldier into paralyzing dread—dry mouths, bristling hairs, unbearable unease—those who had once held supreme authority in this district now lay reduced to a smeared, unrecognizable mass of blood and flesh.

Everywhere were impossible, massive wounds; thick, stinking blood flowed in rivers, as if some monstrous beast had ravaged the place.

Jia Ji, who had already left before they arrived, casually knocked aside over a dozen unlucky soldiers, then swiftly took the bewildered Yanzhu and fled.

How did he manage to walk out unscathed from the encircling forces, still at large?

Well, Beidou Shenhua is, after all, an assassination technique...

"In simple terms: I entered the blind spot of their vision, erased my presence—and then followed Yanzhu's advice to come here and revise our plan."

Wait—you?

Aside from Yanzhu and the unconscious Tendo Mokkō, was there anyone else present?

Yes—there was one other person: the only trophy Jia Ji had taken from that scene.

—The Holy Son of Heaven, supreme leader of the Tokyo region.

Though he didn't understand why this Tokyo region insisted on calling its head of state by such a title—and why it had to be a beautiful, pure girl.

But the girl before him, drenched in filthy blood, truly deserved that title.

Jia Ji, having read the plot, knew she was one of the rare good people in this world—someone trying to change the current environment, striving to create a new future for the Cursed Children, the only person in the council who should not have been killed.

The "New Law for the Cursed Creatures," the very bill he had mentioned earlier, was first proposed and relentlessly pushed by her—driven by noble ideals and popular support, aiming to find a way for Cursed Children and the Plundered Generations to coexist.

The girl, suddenly abducted here, now stared fixedly at the man who had just claimed he'd championed the bill, yet suddenly went on a murderous rampage in the council chamber.

The Holy Son of Heaven bit her thin lips so hard from the overwhelming shock and complexity of reality that her lip split, trickling drops of blood with a metallic taste; finally, through clenched teeth, she forced out a single sentence.

"Who... are you?"

(End of Chapter)