Chapter 102

In the empty, icy mansion, three breathtakingly beautiful, ethereal young women sat nervously on the sofa.

Each of these three possessed grace, physique, beauty, and flawless skin unmatched in human society.

They were selected by official personnel from image databases, after multiple rounds of nationwide screening—chosen one in a million from at least one million candidates as New Nation's Top Hundred Beauties.

Their ages ranged from eighteen to twenty-five, and most pursued careers in modeling, dance, or opera.

Since childhood, praise from those around them had drowned them.

At first glance, everyone understood this was unmistakably a woman of extraordinary beauty.

Raised in such an environment, they were well aware of the resources their beauty afforded them.

Of course, they also saw the path ahead of them.

Either die alone in old age, or become a golden cage bird kept by superhumans—there was no third choice.

Because of their beauty, they could easily obtain funding from others with ulterior motives.

But because of their beauty, no mortal dared approach them.

Such high-quality beauties were not meant for ordinary people; true beauty itself was a duty in New Nation.

These beauties were like premium tribute offerings—rare, therefore reserved for honoring heaven and gods.

The superhumans who towered above the masses gazed down upon humanity like deities.

When the mood struck, they would select a few flawless tribute offerings to quench their thirst.

Such tribute items, even if they rotted, must not be touched by others.

If a mortal were found to have bitten into the tribute before the deity did—or if the tribute bore even the slightest flaw—it was considered a grave act of disrespect.

Thus, superhumans sought women like sweeping for mines—one sweep, and hundreds died.

The deities did not want only the women themselves, but also every single person of the opposite sex closely tied to them.

Sometimes, in rage, they would trigger cascading deaths.

For instance: kill the man who touched the tribute, then his nine clans, even the woman's parents and teachers.

How on earth do you raise children, letting them fall in love so carelessly?

Now the peaches are spoiled—can't be eaten! You're all dead.

In such mine-sweeping searches, it was not uncommon for hundreds to be swept up at once.

Thus, to this day, throughout New Nation, every commoner adhered to an unspoken rule.

Do not get too close to those of exceptional beauty; do not linger your gaze on them too long.

Think of your family—you cannot bear the consequences.

Until now, none of these beauties had any close opposite-sex relatives or friends, for no one dared such audacious transgression.

Not only these beauties—even Fang Can, with his looks, was the same before his powers were revealed.

Fang Can had long been silently regarded by classmates and teachers as a male reserve member of some female superhuman's harem, with no close friends of either gender.

After all, which aunt wouldn't be dazzled by a brother like him?

This past midnight, they all knew their time for tribute had come.

Thinking of what was about to happen, these beauties felt no joy—only dread and fear for the future.

Divine grace is vast as the sea! Divine wrath is hellish as a prison! Heavenly will is unfathomable!

Before arriving, they had only been told by staff to obey the superhumans' orders—everything else was unknown.

The thought of surrendering their entire lives to an unknown superhuman lord—unknown in appearance, unknown in temperament, unknown in preferences and playstyles—

Made them fear their future might be worse than death if he enjoyed forbidden, unapproved games.

Even the one summoning them might not be male—it could be an older woman jealous of their youth and beauty, eager to torment them.

Thus, before meeting the master, their dread and fear far outweighed any hope of being chosen by the superhuman lord.

It was like a blind-box life game—no one knew if they'd draw a reward or a punishment.

"Creak!"

With a soft sound, the door slowly opened, and a figure walked in with slow steps.

The moment the door opened, they all knew the blind box of fate was about to be opened.

Instantly, they rose from the sofa and bowed in unison toward the door: "Welcome, my lord, home."

As they spoke, their eyes respectfully fixed on the floor, seeing only the figure's silhouette blocking the sunlight from outside, casting a tall, slender shadow.

'This is a male superhuman lord, tall and slender,' the women deduced from the shadow.

The man, unperturbed by their bows, said: "Hmm. Good morning."

With a voice they vaguely recognized, the man slammed the heavy gilded door shut behind him.

'That voice… I've heard it before,' all three thought instinctively, then slowly straightened, raising their eyes to face the man.

Radiant! Captivating!

Their gaze was instantly drawn to his skin, glowing pure white.

Thanks to his Immortal Sun-Enduring Demon Body absorbing light, excess photons clung to his skin, emitting a faint glow.

Outdoors in daylight, the effect was negligible.

But within the dim villa, every strand of hair and patch of skin emitted a soft radiance, as if a god had descended.

Generally, the purer and whiter the surface, the more the black blemishes on the white paper would magnify.

But Fang Can's flawless, luminous skin was like the finest jade—no flaw could be found.

Then came his features.

Each of Fang Can's facial features, taken alone, could be chosen by an art academy as a model of aesthetic perfection.

Together, they formed a harmonious whole, radiating a gentle aura that did not repel the women—

Instead, it stirred an instinctive desire to draw near.

Looking at the man standing before them, the few instinctively slowed their breathing, afraid that breathing too heavily would disturb his thoughts.

That appearance alone was enough to be called the greatness of beauty — one could say it was a beauty that had reached a state where craft verged upon Dao.

After all, even Ye Qingshi, who in the future would be selected by the Celestial Secrets Tower onto the Beauty Ranking, had shamefacedly given the evaluation: "In terms of women's clothing, I am not his equal."

"Wait… isn't this Fang… my lord?"

Suddenly, the few women immersed in that beauty immediately recognized him.

Wasn't the esper right before them the one who live-streamed during Carnival Day yesterday?

Crushing the enemy forces — that represented strength!

Protecting the city — that represented goodness!

Looks unmatched under heaven — that represented beauty!

An esper who combined power, beauty, and kindness wanting them — this couldn't be real, could it???

This was no longer pulling an SSR from a blind box; it was a group of R-cards being actively chosen by an SSR.

Did this esper not fear that getting together with them would pollute his card pool?

(End of chapter)