Translator: AkazaTL

Proofreader/Editor: JWyck

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Chapter 313

As I spoke, I hoisted the 200-pound king and bolted without hesitation, giving the guardian god no chance to lock down the space.

We dashed to the staircase. Instead of heading down to the castle gate, I went straight up to the top floor, jumped out a window, and tossed the king onto the Balance Bed with one hand before flipping myself up. Both of us successfully perched on the bed.

Thankfully, this item wouldn’t lose balance for any reason, or we’d both be pancaked from a 20-meter fall off the castle.

“You’re... Su Bei, Mingbai’s friend,” the king said. When I pulled him earlier, I’d briefly shown my face to gain his trust. The king had a sharp memory, and since I was a friend of the son he’d worked so hard to reunite with, he naturally remembered me.

That’s why he stayed silent while I carried him, holding back despite the urge to speak. Since I was his son’s friend and a powerful Ability user, my appearance now was likely to save him, not harm him—he wasn’t about to make things harder.

“That’s me,” I nodded instinctively, then stopped, realizing he couldn’t see me.

The king paused, or perhaps caught his breath, before continuing: “Thank you for saving me. May I ask why you’re here?”

As the castle’s master, he knew about my disappearance. Wu Mingbai had explained I had a special mission and might not help with disaster relief. He hadn’t thought much of it then—just a student, after all. Who’d have thought the missing student would show up now and save his life?

Though he shouldn’t doubt his savior, some things needed clearing up for everyone’s sake.

I answered cryptically: “I’m a Destiny Ability user.”

The reply was concise and powerful. The king had investigated my Ability and knew I wasn’t lying. Just as Prophecy Ability users could see the future, Destiny users had similar capabilities. If I’d foreseen his danger and waited here deliberately, it was perfectly reasonable. But he had one more question: “Since you knew yesterday I’d be in danger, why not warn me directly?”

Those who knew me wouldn’t ask this anymore, but the king didn’t know me, so I had to come up with an excuse: “Too many variables that way. It’s better to handle it directly.”

The king easily bought it. After all, Destiny was the most mysterious Ability—who could control fate? Wanting to keep everything in hand was reasonable.

“Thank you so much this time. If not for you, I’d be meeting my ancestors by now,” the king said with deep emotion. “If Yafei Kingdom survives this crisis, I promise you’ll be my most honored guest. For now, I’m sorry I can’t express more gratitude—I need to go back and take charge.”

He didn’t know if his guards had arrived. If they noticed his disappearance, panic would ensue. He knew that in this chaos, his absence couldn’t be hidden long.

Chaos would engulf the nation.

“You’re going out now?” I lowered my voice slightly, with a hint of persuasion. “This is a great chance to observe.”

Observe what? Who had ambitions and who had the ability to match them. In a leaderless state, who could step up to take charge, and who would fumble and fail?

As I said, now was the perfect opportunity. The guards knew he went to see the guardian god, and when he called for help, they were intercepted—a clear conspiracy against the Yafei king. With his disappearance, the guards would likely assume he was dead. Their testimony would convince others, who wouldn’t suspect he was alive and deliberately staying hidden to test them.

My reason for urging the king to stay wasn’t to watch the drama. If he went out now, I’d only get credit for saving him. But if he reappeared with me leading him after the nation fell into chaos and the villains nearly succeeded, the spotlight would be vastly different.

Given the choice, I’d pick the option with greater payoff. From what I knew of the king, he likely didn’t care much for the people. Given this chance, he might be swayed.

As expected, after a long silence, the king agreed: “Alright, I’ll go out later. Will you stay here?”

He was a bit worried I’d leave to find the others after saving him. The guards were temporarily unusable for his “fake death” escape. I’d shown my strength—both in Ability and physical skills. If I stayed to protect him, he’d feel safer.

Fortunately, I had no plans to leave and promised: “I’ll stay here to protect you until you decide to go out.”

“Wonderful. Rest assured, after this is over, I’ll reward you properly,” the king said, relieved. He pulled a tablet from his Storage Ring, connecting to the castle’s surveillance to monitor everything in real-time.

Invisibility Charms couldn’t hide the tablet. Though I could use Mental Energy to monitor, I leaned over to watch the tablet with the king.

An hour later, news of the king’s incident spread. Within ten minutes, the five princes and princesses—except Wu Mingbai—entered the castle. The devastated queen took them to the bedroom and recounted the king’s fate.

With her and the guards’ testimony, the king’s incident was ironclad.

I thought the ambitious princes and princesses would first address the crisis, or the petty ones would rush to rally loyal ministers, or the big-picture ones would do something to win public support. But unexpectedly, led by Eldest Prince Andrew, they started arguing in front of the queen.

It began with Andrew and the younger twin brother, then the youngest princess, Sophia, joined in for the spectacle. The remaining two, caught in the crossfire, couldn’t hold back and joined the fray.

Among all possible responses, public arguing was the worst—not even a strategy. The king’s face darkened; he was glad to be invisible, hiding his blackened expression.

“…My apologies, they’re probably rattled by the sudden event. They’ll adjust soon,” the king said stiffly, aware I was likely watching, comforting both me and himself.

I gave him face: “They’re young. They need practice to grow.”

But this made the king’s heart ache more. Andrew and the others were young, but so were we! The stark gap at the same age made him question his parenting.

Compared to these kids, the queen was far more composed. Swallowing her grief over losing her husband, she sternly rebuked them. After stopping the pointless argument, she sent them back, telling them to return tomorrow.

This gave them time to think and seek support.

She then sealed the news of the king’s disappearance and continued sending Ability users for rescue operations. She also requested aid from other nations, especially strong Ability users to deal with the possibly rogue Gao Di An Zhuo.

Watching her handle things methodically, the king was greatly comforted. At least he and his wife were sane. If these kids couldn’t step up, they’d just “start a new account.”

While undercurrents swirled in the capital, the protagonist group wasn’t idle. Nightmare Beasts couldn’t infiltrate the capital but could easily slip elsewhere. Many citizens had never seen so many Nightmare Beasts, yet now they saw plenty in one day. Though Jiang Tianming and the others were rescuing people all day, they took breaks, chatting in the group and checking if I’d replied.

The protagonist group was sharp. By the second day, they realized the issue was still Gao Di An Zhuo. Yafei’s relentless earthquakes, pausing only briefly before restarting, weren’t natural.

Only the Yafei guardian god could cause unnatural, nationwide earthquakes.

Others couldn’t return easily, having heard of the king’s death and the capital’s chaos. Feng Lan, staying in the capital, was well-informed and shared this in the group.

For Wu Mingbai, the king’s death stirred mixed feelings. He couldn’t claim deep affection for a father reunited after fifteen years, but with no malice from the king and no fault in their past separation, he couldn’t help caring.

Without truly knowing each other, his father was gone—not heartbreaking, but a sense of loss lingered.

Realizing Gao Di An Zhuo’s issue and that testing the guardian god couldn’t be left to the defenseless Feng Lan, Jiang Tianming’s group decided to send Wu Mingbai back.

As a prince, Wu Mingbai’s return now was reasonable. Using power struggles as a pretext wouldn’t alert the mastermind.

I wasn’t as concerned with outside events—the capital’s drama was enough. Eldest Prince Andrew, with his allies and some guards, surrounded the castle, claiming to protect the crime scene.

To me, this was a weak move. The king was “dead”—what use was guarding the castle besides blocking access to the guardian god? It’s not like occupying the castle made you ruler; surrounding the capital would be more effective.

Besides the guardian god, the only thing Andrew somewhat blocked was the queen. But he didn’t dare truly stop her—if she wanted to leave, he’d have to let her.

In terms of prestige, the queen far outshone him. If she wanted the throne, she might actually rule as empress for a while.

If Andrew had the resolve to firmly control the queen, he could hold the emperor to command the vassals, ending the rebellion fastest and becoming the new ruler. It might lack legitimacy, but in such dire times, extraordinary measures could make it a celebrated tale.

Sadly, Andrew lacked such resolve. He only pandered to the queen, hoping for her public support to legitimately ascend.

In normal times, this choice was fine. But in this urgent need for stability, his reckless yet indecisive behavior made the queen unwilling to support him.

Watching this, the king sighed and stopped paying attention, clearly giving up on this son.

The Second Princess was smarter, taking a populist route, distributing food to win over the disaster-stricken people. It was a temporary fix, not a cure, but for a minor princess with little influence, it was impressive.

Notably, her affair with Weather Butler was discovered by the king, who trembled with rage. The Second Princess was only fourteen!

In a pure manga, their romance might continue. But in this real world, I was certain their taboo affair would be stopped immediately upon discovery.

So I wasn’t initially worried. If the king hadn’t noticed by the time we left, as Wu Mingbai planned, we’d expose it ourselves. As a socialist good youth, I couldn’t let such pedophilic behavior continue.

Now that the king found out, it was even better. Offending a potential future king wasn’t wise.

The Second Princess risked contacting Weather Butler to have him monitor Andrew and provide support at key moments. Whatever that support was, it didn’t seem peaceful.

The three youngest, the eldest only eight, were too young to handle this, no matter how mature. Andrew’s spies reported they consulted with retainers and stayed in their rooms, not venturing out.

To me, this was smart. Unless Yafei’s ministers wanted to usurp, they wouldn’t choose a young child over older princes or princesses.

Staying home to watch the tigers fight was the best choice—preserving strength, avoiding casualties, and earning favor from the victor for not causing trouble.

At least the three youngest didn’t worry the king, sparing him from “restarting.” Relieved, he smiled at the invisible me: “The little ones are clever.”

I wouldn’t say anything to dampen the mood, offering a perfunctory reply while thinking about when Wu Mingbai would return. He’d face obstacles, including these princes and princesses.

The others, raised together, might hold back despite throne rivalries. But Wu Mingbai, with no familial bond, was different. Andrew and the others clearly didn’t lack siblings.

My plan was to step in when Wu Mingbai was sufficiently troubled by them, bringing the king out to resolve his crisis and add a spotlight moment for myself—perfect.

Coincidentally, the king thought of his long-lost son, feeling guilty that after fifteen years apart and a hard-won reunion, Wu Mingbai was out in danger. Hesitating, he looked at me: “Classmate Su Bei, you’re Mingbai’s friend. Did he show any sadness when he left the capital for disaster relief?”

Hearing this, I knew what was eating at him. The answer was no—Wu Mingbai wasn’t that sentimental. He went to help willingly, likely not overthinking it.

But I wasn’t here to counsel the king. I shrugged: “Sorry, I wasn’t there.”

Knowing I was absent to save him, the king felt too awkward to press further.

On the third day of the earthquakes, Wu Mingbai returned with Ai Baozhu. Facing a potentially rogue guardian god, a strong Defense Track Ability user was essential.

Ai Baozhu’s Ability wasn’t the strongest, but its surprise factor was key. Unless countered with Mental Energy from the start, anyone acting aggressively in her [Gorgeous Domain] would be flung out, no matter how strong.

That split-second delay was enough for them to escape.

As I predicted, when Andrew heard Wu Mingbai was back, he panicked. Projecting his own motives, he assumed Wu Mingbai returned to seize the throne. After repeated setbacks, he was determined to teach Wu Mingbai a lesson to crush his “daydreams.”

Seeing this through surveillance, the king was furious. He knew his eldest son—now second son—wasn’t the brightest, but this level of stupidity spiked his adrenaline.

How could Andrew not see that Wu Mingbai had no chance of ascending now? If the king were “alive,” maybe. But in the public’s eyes, he was dead. The nation wouldn’t accept a prince raised abroad as ruler.

Wu Mingbai’s competitiveness was less than even the youngest Sophia’s. That Andrew would target him first in this crisis was beyond the king’s imagination.

Surveillance didn’t cover outside the castle, so I was left blind, listening to the king grumble. At first, he maintained royal dignity, but whether due to my invisibility, his own, or being alone together, he let loose, criticizing Andrew’s moves while fantasizing about future lessons.

I just wanted to poison him mute—why was a king so chatty? Talk about breaking character!

That evening, Wu Mingbai’s arrival saved my ears. Despite Andrew’s pursuit, they infiltrated the castle and headed to the guardian god’s chamber to check Its status.

Seeing this, the king panicked. He’d been forced to flee by the rogue guardian god—what if Wu Mingbai and the others, unprepared, died there?

“No, I have to go out,” he stood, saying gravely, “Please take me down. I need to stop them.”

But I refused: “It’s not time for you to appear.”

Wu Mingbai had to meet the guardian god. The plot was in its late stages, and compared to the dominant [Word Spirit] or the ever-growing [Death Summon], Wu Mingbai’s [Earth Element] progressed too slowly.

This plot was clearly designed by the author to give him a boost. For plot and teammate reasons, I wouldn’t let the king disrupt it.

Of course, with the author’s hand, he likely couldn’t disrupt it anyway. But if I didn’t hold him back, I feared the king would drop dead halfway, wasting my efforts.

“What do you mean?” The king froze, puzzled.

To dissuade him, I said honestly: “This is Wu Mingbai’s destined opportunity.”

I figured saying “opportunity” would make the king, rationally and emotionally, not stop Wu Mingbai’s progress. But I underestimated a father’s love. The king quickly frowned: “I’m sorry, but though you say that, I only know Mingbai will be in danger. The guardian god is far too strong for him to handle. I can’t let him risk his life just for potential gains.”

Tch, what a good father. Wu Mingbai would be touched hearing this. But I couldn’t let him ruin my plan. I put on a moved expression: “Alright, I’ll take you down.”

As I approached, while the king let his guard down, I delivered a chop to the back of his neck. In his final second before fainting, he heard my unapologetic apology: “Sorry, but please sleep a bit longer.”