Chapter 1375: NO．279: The Faction is this direct

NO．279: The Faction is this direct.

The road to hell is often paved with good intentions; this saying is a Western-style 'good intentions lead to bad outcomes,' and it is an ancient proverb that Aomo particularly appreciates.

It argues that good intentions can be inevitable regardless of right or wrong, greatly enriching people's understanding of the unpredictability of worldly affairs, so that when encountering uncontrolled developments unexpectedly, one will not appear too inadequate.

The limit of ordinary people is no more than this.

Even with a healthy brain and excellent crystal-core hardware to thoroughly study and memorize all that ancient wisdom, one still cannot avoid mental blankness before events, making what one has learned and excels at difficult to apply, resulting in rigidity; if one does not shout in frustration or collapse in defeat like a mediocre person, then at least the past efforts are not entirely wasted.

But if one possesses psychological quality above the baseline, or has a mindset accustomed to adapting to unexpected situations, then one has entered an exceptional realm, gaining some commendable advantages.

And when you possess both, and can draw upon past learning—achieving this is easy to say, and everyone can touch upon it somewhat, but to truly be pure in the literal sense is an extremely difficult state.

You can then easily resolve the vast majority of problems encountered in life, and also present an image of vast supernatural abilities, an übermensch form that is hardly ever troubled by difficulties.

Übermensch/superman, this is a philosophical concept that the Ultraman warriors and the β training field staff, including Shi Ye Xiao Mei, are especially familiar with; this concept, which invokes the well-known philosopher Nietzsche's idea of the superman, is closer to a vision than a theory—a vision that anticipates a new kind of humanity capable of overturning existing social order and moral notions, possessing creativity, strength, and independence, able to transcend itself and forge entirely new values.

Compared to the superman in material terms, this superman of the spiritual realm is forever precious; even in the Holy Terra Federation that proclaims advancement and diversity, this vision is realized only among a very few independent individuals.

And among such individuals, there is no Aomo Lindun.

Without a doubt, although he has walked this path, the short distance he has yet to reach is like a cosmic chasm at the fingertip.

And the most direct proof of that, without doubt, is the present moment.

——As dish after dish is served, even the dishes that require long-term simmering have their familiars (the little dragon called Qingping, and the strange two-legged beast called Aoyao that Xi summons) watching, leaving Aomo no reason to stay in the kitchen, forcing him to go to the dining table……

He is like a frog that has just entered the water but is very cautious.

The temperature feels off; it probably isn't an illusion?

Sai Luo was discussing yesterday's battle debrief with Orb, Zett, Ange, Lipiya, and Ultraman Ginga on the screen; the Electric Light Machine King group was meanwhile chatting with Ultraman Ginga's allies about the various novelties they had seen in the Boundary Gate area over the past day and a half, including exchanges between the controllers of the two monsters, Ten Jia and Gui She, while Liu He and Chen remained similarly taciturn.

The people at this table seem fine, although He's reaction somewhat catches his attention, and although Nian and Zhong Yue's mingling there appears somewhat out of place, but the Sui family members are usually present at every table; Shu and Xi are now greeting the high schoolers at the Uma Musume table, the former behaving naturally while the latter seems somewhat tense, as if not quite accustomed to interacting with these real-life figures on the covers.

This is still not as good as Bi Ze at Aomo's table.

Bi Ze could directly watch as Ling embraced Biqueteques and Qielenina with lofty ambition, occasionally greeting the image of Yisamala with clicks of amazement, then uttering a couple of words to the phone that the witch beast occasionally glances at, and immediately murmuring something to his android girlfriend nearby; looking at him, he bears a certain mature steadiness.

It's just looking steady; when you try to replicate his lip movements, you'll find that he alternates between stirring up trouble and checking his android girlfriend's progress on the menu, slipping in a few flirtatious remarks.

Fortunately he put up a soundproof barrier on himself this time; otherwise, this table's people have exceptional hearing, and it's hard to say what look they'd give him.

But even if his hearing were limited, it wouldn't stop Aomo from looking at him with a gaze like looking at trash, then turning his gaze to the Uma Musume table.

Ludolf, Qianming, Bai Ren, and Ge Cheng, together with the Sirius symbol that lacked enough popularity to enter the Dream Cup, stood shoulder to shoulder, watching Qianming's projected match replay on his hand; it essentially amounted to a match debrief, discussing what the main idea was, where to speed up, and not to let the opponent advance, and listening to it posed no problem.

Nothing wrong.

Although some individuals' upbringing may include the old tradition of not speaking while eating or sleeping, in East Asian cultural circles the atmosphere at the dinner table is one of free expression; whether chatting about anything or burying oneself in phone use, it's nothing remarkable.

Even if the several young ladies under him were buried in tapping their phones, forgetting to pick up vegetables, to the point of being silently dazzled by the black-haired horse girl brought by some imperial prince, Aomo had no intention of reminding or asking them.

Just consider it giving them a memory; otherwise they'd truly forget that the unassuming Mei Yu Miss is actually the hidden stomach king of Teresen.

The dining table battlefield is cruel, and it's even more so when that neighboring country that looks like a small village pulls out a Big Ivan.

But that is only a hidden risk specific to that Uma Musume table's battlefield.

Furthermore, the greater the hidden risk, the more Shu's gaze toward her becomes kind.

Putting aside Aomo's own table, aside from Yisamala's food intake being slightly excessive, the biggest eater is actually Aomo himself.

Usually in the activity room, the mercenary-type trainees who maintain their condition with indoor fitness equipment have a food intake that is 1.9 times that of ordinary adults; when using magic and harnessing monster power, the multiplier increases further, demonstrating the point‑by‑point struggle of energy conservation.

Likewise, recent late‑night efforts are the same; after all, although many people overlook this, intense activity before and after is indeed physical labor.

Especially when the female side lacks stamina, then this exercise volume must be made up by you yourself.

Aomo inevitably worries at the dining table, after all, whether looking at the Engel coefficient or pure efficiency, the big‑eater trait really isn't good.

Especially since reality is not animation, let alone a comedy animation.

He cannot shovel food straight into his mouth in an overly cartoonish way; he can only speed up, not skip, and as the time spent eating grows, the chef and diners obviously need to consider more nutritious ingredients.

But meanwhile, there are still purely ordinary people in the house.

Aomo, who has not suffered any absurd mishaps like being unable to absorb nutrients or being sent to the hospital, has likewise never pushed this plan in the office, and can only honestly get used to this somewhat lengthy dining process.

But it is well known that becoming accustomed to something does not mean you like it.

Perhaps He would be happy to be able to eat more, to have more stomach space to hold a greater variety of delicacies, but the demon feels that too much time is spent on this, and he has not yet enjoyed such leisure.

However, Aomo today does not think that way.

After all, a banquet ought to last longer.

He had prepared to spend much time here, and he saw that the three tables had formed their own circles, chatting idly; at a glance there seemed nothing wrong, nor any problem, but once he lingered longer within his field of vision……

Hmm……

Is the attention on oneself too much?

It's not hard to notice; in fact, it's rather obvious.

Because some people indeed have counter‑surveillance awareness, but many more merely exhibit clumsy concealment and pretense that is worse than none, especially the extraterrestrials whom Aomo has repeatedly read the lips of; they hardly disguise their amused, spectator mindset, and that mocking gaze makes Aomo frown, recalling several faces.

Xi, Suzi, Hol Haiya, and, for the most part, those who would be entertained by Teresa and thus outright refuse this gathering, Wisdeal.

Extraterrestrials clearly ought not to share the stage with such a group, for the core of the mockery is a sense of lofty, complacent oversight, whereas a Bi‑surname male among his brothers usually occupies a lower rank, with little room to look down on others.

This is naturally off, and among them there is not just this one kind of oddity.

The one who, when talking with the Uma Musume table, tenses their nerves yet does not focus on interacting with the idol, instead frequently glancing toward Xi on this side, as if trying to see through themselves—the southern squad member and Neihai—both harbor a hint of gossip, as if they already knew the banquet's focus was on Ling.

Perhaps Xi leaked the message?

But this seems unlikely to explain Xiao Lu's worried gaze; could he still think something will happen to him today?

Facing Qianze's look of fresh admiration, Shan Zhong Li's especially reverent gaze, and whatever the second‑generation attach said nearby that caused An Qi to start coldly staring at himself, Aomo felt that the situation at that table was not too strange, after all, besides Xi, there was also Alexis running amok on the screen, which he didn't consider a big deal.

But these people's gazes are not limited to lingering on himself and Ling; rather, they sweep over mountains and fields, as if seeking to reacquaint themselves with everyone in their field of view.

This again draws his attention to Xiao Lu's worry.

What is this again?

Did they get the message wrong while passing it? Recalling some jokes, Aomo, chewing food, didn't really pay attention to its flavor, thinking in his mind that this might be the gradual distortion that often occurs in the process of information transmission.

It's just that, regardless of what these people heard, as someone who actively led a team to watch others' confessions, Aomo felt he had no right to say others lacked virtue; even though everyone's eyes were on him here, even the girls under his command, regardless of whether they were in high school, college, or retired, all likewise gazed at him, he simply ate silently without changing expression, letting his thoughts continue to run in his mind.

He suddenly felt a bit alert, sensing that a huge deviation seemed to have arisen now, and these might perhaps be a kind of omen.

How many people actually came to watch the play today?

And how many people misunderstood the play they were supposed to watch?

Looking again at Yishamala and Huorerhaiya who kept staring at me, the interpersonal issues I need to handle are certainly not just one instance; this outward manifestation of my constantly storming brain, on the other hand, seems to others like a demon saying, "Since things have come to this, let's eat first."

Silently gazing at those who wanted to speak but held back, he continued eating without changing expression, and Aomo thus waited for Zhong Yue, the one who first stood up and spoke to propose a toast.

With the air of someone experienced in organizing victory banquets, as the host Zhong Yue mentioned celebrating yesterday's battle victory, then mentioned today's run, and in the midst of the toast passed the conversation to me and to Ludaofu and her group.

Everyone stood up in turn, spoke, raised their cups in thanks; up to this point, although many people's wandering gazes gave Aomo considerable doubt and surprise, it was still within the expected procedure, with nothing outrageous happening.

But that was all there was to it.

When the banquet reached its midpoint, the concept of the liquor session meant to follow the latter half began to overwrite the meal, as people frequently rose with their glasses to move about, leaving certain underage individuals looking on helplessly—this was a time of unwillingness yet also slight nervousness.

Then a large fish suddenly leapt out of the calm water.

"Aomo."

"?"

Looking up at Yishamala who approached with a glass in hand, Aomo doubted whether the memories of the Faction and Sikadi included any notion of a toast.

Yet she indeed presented a Sikati-like demeanor, earnestly wearing a coat, sweater, short skirt, and long socks—unlike her usual cool attire, Yishamala placed her glass aside and directly leaned in to embrace him.

Under countless widened gazes, at his neck she breathed and whispered:

"Even if refusing to become blood relatives is fine, become my family; let our blood ties bind us closely, let us live together."