Luthor exhaled. Although his eyes had been gauged out by Rachel, he was still the president of the federation. As such, he received the best treatment, and his eyes were replaced with robotic ones. They weren’t as good as a nascent-soul cultivator’s eyes, the ones he had lost, but they were still better than an ordinary person’s. He had taken a few weeks off after the incident, happily dumping all the anxiety and stress of not having a false immortal onto the vice-president, but eventually, all good things came to an end. Luthor’s medical leave ended, and he was back on duty. Nothing major had happened despite the previous severe warning about the empire and coalition probing the federation for information. However, with how large the federation was, it was only a matter of time before a huge event happened.
The Bread Games was watched by everyone; adults, teenagers, children. In the history of the games, no major accidents had ever occurred. Occasionally, one or two gymnasts would attempt a skill and fail, injuring themselves in the process. The competitions between cultivators was hundreds of times more dangerous than the ones involving mortals, but there was still never a single fatality. The current Bread Games could be called the most damaging one in history. Although no one had died, Elder Vremya of the Moon Lotus Sect destroyed the Legacy-Obtaining Trial’s core. In other words, a machine that took several trillions of credits to build had been turned into a worthless heap of trash. It would’ve been less catastrophic if all the competitors had died instead. One couldn’t put a price on a human life, …but God damnit, a trillion credits was a lot!
Luthor rubbed his temples with his fingers. The Bread Games was run by a private committee. In theory, they should have had nothing to do with the government; however, how could that possibly be the case when so much money was being thrown around? Minor problems were easily resolved by the Bread Games committee, but larger problems, like a trillion-credit machine blowing up, were passed on to the government to handle. Even though the committee had insurance, what insurance company could possibly cover the costs of the Legacy-Obtaining Trial machine?
Ever since the federation had discovered the Moon Lotus World, Luthor’s hair had steadily become grayer and grayer. First, his eyes had been gouged out by the ancestor of the Moon Lotus Sect. Then, he heard rumors about the Moon Lotus Sect plotting a coup to overthrow the current government. Finally, it seemed like the coup was about to begin with the destruction of a priceless machine by an elder from the Moon Lotus Sect. Luthor couldn’t help but sigh. Life was unfair. All the previous presidents of the federation had shit to handle, but none of them had ever been on the verge of being overthrown. With how barbaric the Moon Lotus Sect behaved, he wouldn’t be surprised if they beheaded him for extra measure. With that thought in mind, Luthor’s head finally cleared. He knew what he had to do. He stood up, walked to a cabinet, pulled out a clean sheet of paper, and took his trusty pen out from his shirt pocket. He wrote down a sentence, and read it out loud to make sure he hadn’t made any errors. “Effective immediately, I, the president of the federation, resign from my post. Signed, President Luthor.”
Luthor placed the paper down in the middle of his desk, placed his security keys on top of it, gathered his very few personal belongings, and left the office. He loved the federation. He wanted the best for the federation. But he’d be damned if he was going to die for the federation, especially if it was such a pointless death. As for the person who’d be replacing him, well, they were smart enough to become the president; they should be smart enough to preserve their lives as well.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
***
Grandpa Vremya frowned. Evidently, the choice he had made was not the one deemed correct by the people who had created the trial. Destroying the surroundings was always an option, so why didn’t the committee account for it happening? Whoever designed the trial wasn’t any good at it. The only saving grace was the protective formation threaded into the competitors’ clothes. If they were about to die, they’d be taken out of the competitive ground safe and sound. After Grandpa Vremya’s black hole expanded, forced everyone out of the area, and destroyed the core of the machine, he was escorted by some members of the Bread Games committee into a private room. The people who escorted him stayed in the room, telling him someone was on their way to see him.
After five minutes, a man with reflective sunglasses walked into the room. He had on a black suit along with a black tie. “I’m the Bread Games’ head of security,” the man said, pointing at his nametag. It read Timothy. “Right now, you’re being detained for executing a terrorist action.”
“Terrorist action?” Grandpa Vremya raised an eyebrow. Was it his fault the machine broke? “I don’t believe I’m in the wrong here. When you go to a gym and punch a combat dummy, if it explodes, you don’t pay for the dummy. In fact, you sue the gym for exposing you to such danger. It’s not my fault your trial broke upon encountering a single one of my techniques.”
Timothy snorted. “A nascent-soul cultivator isn’t capable of unleashing a technique that can destroy our property,” he said. “You must’ve had external assistance! Someone told you the way to break the core of our trial machine. Who was it!?”
Grandpa Vremya stared at Timothy as if he were a moron. Now that Grandpa Vremya was out of the trial ground, his interspatial items were no longer locked. As for the formation inside the room he was detained in, he had messed with its abilities when he first entered. It no longer blocked interspatial items, but the soundproofing remained. With a wave of his hand, six battlesuit golems appeared behind him. Not only were they stronger than their three opponents, but they also held the advantage in numbers. The one-sided beating ended rather quickly. When Grandpa Vremya exited the room, the first thing he heard was rushed footsteps. Judging by the sounds they made, there were at least twenty people heading his way. Grandpa Vremya shook his head. Numbers didn’t matter when faced with overwhelming strength. He continued at the same pace with his golems following behind him.
Twenty policemen soon came into view. “Freeze!” all of them said, raising their weapons. Without waiting for Grandpa Vremya’s response, one of the officers pulled his trigger, shooting a condensed energy beam at Grandpa Vremya. Like the starting pistol of a race, the rest of the officers took that as a sign to fire.
Grandpa Vremya continued walking. One of his battlesuit golems stepped ahead of him, deflecting all the lasers with its bare hands. The golem went on and shattered all of the policemen’s weapons without giving them an opportunity to resist. It didn’t take long for Grandpa Vremya to exit the building with his golems clearing the path. Once out, he made his way to the location of the award ceremony. Since there was a terrible accident involving a machine’s core exploding, the award ceremony was put off, but the awards were still there. Judging by the Bread Games’ committee’s terrible behavior, Grandpa Vremya assumed they wouldn’t be giving him the award he had rightfully earned. After all, as the last contender in the trial, wasn’t he the victor? As such, he would take it upon himself to retrieve the award, saving everyone the time and trouble. After he collected this final reward, his cultivation would improve once more. It wouldn’t be long before his nascent soul could form a soul seed.