Chapter 30: The Strong Possess Everything; the Weak Are Governed by the Strong

Ye Xuan didn’t know what species these birds were before their mutation, but since they could survive in the Hangcheng Nature Reserve, they were undoubtedly rare creatures.

Rarity meant they were weak.

Such weak lifeforms, after witnessing their companions killed by humans, did not flee in fear—instead, they organized themselves, openly displaying their malice toward humans.

Do they think they can kill humans?

If a normal person stood here, their sheer numbers might indeed injure or even kill them; but unfortunately, the one standing here was him.

Lin Miao didn’t know Ye Xuan’s thoughts; at this moment, gazing at the vast flock of mutated birds in the trees, she felt a flicker of tension.

She walked beside Ye Xuan and asked softly:

“What do we do now?”

“They’re too numerous—should we retreat first?”

“No need.”

Ye Xuan spoke calmly, his tone utterly still.

“Just some beasts.”

The moment he finished speaking, spiritual energy surged within him; the longsword at his waist let out a clear chime and flew from its scabbard, hovering before him.

Golden light flowed along the blade, radiating a sharp, cutting aura.

The next instant, Ye Xuan raised his hand and swept it forward—the sword instantly split into countless golden sword rays, like a torrential downpour streaking toward the mutated birds in the trees; where the rays passed, the air seemed torn, emitting piercing whistles.

“Shriek—!”

A shrill cry of birds erupted, filled with endless agony—but it lasted only an instant before being drowned by the sword rays.

Crimson blood burst through the air like vivid flowers; droplets fell to the ground, staining the soil deep red, while a heavy stench of blood filled the air.

The mutated birds atop the trees fell like reaped wheat, in endless waves; their corpses plummeted from the sky, thudding heavily onto the earth.

Feathers scattered through the air, interwoven with blood—utterly bloody, yet strangely beautiful.

Lin Miao stared blankly at the scene before her, her shock beyond words.

She had never imagined killing could be so—beautiful.

“Do you need the corpses of these mutated birds?”

Ye Xuan paid no mind to the blood filling the air or the corpses littering the ground; having experienced death once, he maintained a calmness toward killing and death that ordinary people could never understand.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have casually slaughtered several mutated rats at school without hesitation.

Upon hearing Ye Xuan’s words, Lin Miao snapped back to herself and nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes.”

“I don’t know what kind of mutated birds these are, but since they’ve mutated, they’re definitely worth trying.”

“But I’ll have to test them for poison first.”

“I’m afraid they’ve developed organs or abilities to store toxins, making their flesh inedible.”

“But even if they’re poisonous, as long as you process them right, you can still eat them.”

“And the more toxic they are, the better the flavor usually is.”

As she spoke, Lin Miao’s face softened with a look of nostalgic longing.

“You really are fearless.”

Ye Xuan didn’t know how to judge Lin Miao’s mindset.

Any normal person, faced with this scene of corpses and blood from his single strike, would have already collapsed.

But Lin Miao wasn’t fazed at all—she was already thinking about the possible “toxicity” and “flavor” of these mutated birds.

No wonder she’s the chef recognized by the Garuda Blade.

“By the way, Ye Xuan, your strength is incredible.”

“Whether it was the mutated wild boar at first, or just now, all those mutated birds—you dispatched them all so easily.”

“I sensed you were strong when I saw that golden sword light that day, but now I feel you’re far stronger than I imagined.”

“You’re a holder of a Celestial Artifact too, right?”

As she sliced open the mutated birds’ bodies and extracted their edible parts, Lin Miao asked Ye Xuan.

She had previously assumed he was merely an ability user—but she’d forgotten: no ability user could possess such overwhelming power.

“Mm.”

Ye Xuan nodded, not denying it.

He never intended to hide his identity as the holder of the Wangquan Hegemony Template; many already knew, and adding Lin Miao made no difference.

“I knew it.”

Lin Miao wore an “I told you so” expression, then asked curiously:

“But why didn’t you join the Tian Shu Bureau, like me, choosing to cooperate with them instead?”

“Because my parents disagreed.”

“They thought that while I’d be protected inside, I’d lose too much freedom—I couldn’t do what I wanted like I can now.”

“But I actually still want to join.”

She sighed, unsure what her parents were worried about.

Her ability was only for cooking—what freedom could she possibly lose?

“The Tian Shu Bureau has nothing that attracts me.”

“And I don’t like being restricted.”

Ye Xuan spoke calmly.

Without a system, joining an official department might have been a good choice—but now that he had a system and the power to control his own fate, he naturally wouldn’t join a place that offered him no benefit.

Moreover, he disliked being ordered around.

Once a person gains power, he develops no affection for anything that tries to limit him.

Why do those in power and the wealthy always commit mistakes that, to ordinary people, seem utterly irrational given their status and wealth?

Why, when they already possess everything, do they still crave more?

Because in their eyes, they are different from ordinary people.

The so-called systems can restrict ordinary people—but not them; they should be free to do whatever they wish, without considering consequences.

If they had to bear the consequences of their actions like ordinary people, what use would their power and wealth be?

This won’t change in the future.

It will simply shift from power and wealth determining status, to strength determining status.

The strong possess everything; the weak are ruled by the strong.

Ye Xuan wouldn’t hypocritically claim he was different from them; fundamentally, his dislike of being “restricted” meant being unrestricted by anything—free to do whatever he wished, including disregarding the very systems humanity created to bind them.

Ye Xuan would not falsely claim he was different from them; fundamentally, his dislike of being “restricted” meant being unbound by anything at all, free to do whatever he wished—including ignoring the very systems humanity had created to confine them.

He had no interest in such boring things.

(End of Chapter)

(End of chapter)