CHAPTER 165: CHAPTER165-ONE HUNDRED DIVINATIONS

Simar the scholar’s divination techniques were widely acknowledged as accurate and reliable. A single divination already carried an astonishing success rate of over 80%. But if one performed the same divination a hundred times and received the same result each time, that would mean the likelihood of the event occurring was nearly absolute—approaching 100%.

At that moment, silence descended upon the entire Royal Society. Not a single person made a sound.

Yet Tarishead, ever the rigorous academic, maintained his cautious skepticism.

"Simar, I would like you to perform the divination once more."

Simar nodded and picked up the crystal ball on the table again, initiating another round of the sacred ritual. This time, however, the results were strikingly different from those before.

In the previous divinations, Simar had only received the final outcome. The process—what occurred in between—remained a mystery. But this time, the crystal ball projected far more information than ever before.

A massive city emerged—grand, yet eerily silent. Its streets lay deserted, and scattered across them were Artists, each one seemingly unconscious or comatose. The strange, unnerving scene played vividly inside the orb.

The human scholars present all widened their eyes in shock.

They had scoured the world for the legendary City of Artists without success, only to now see it so clearly inside a crystal ball.

And judging by the condition of the Artists... something had clearly gone wrong. Or perhaps... had they been robbed?

The Royal Society’s scholars erupted into hushed, frantic discussion. Their theories and conjectures overlapped and collided like crashing waves.

What they didn’t know was that, in a corner of the Artist City unseen to them, a familiar figure was moving at incredible speed.

...

The entire City of Artists had fallen into complete paralysis.

Daniel had even managed to transfer the city’s administrative privileges directly into his own hands.

Following a unanimous abstention by the City Council, Daniel was now officially the mayor—the undisputed leader of the Artist City. Even if the former mayor were to awaken at this point, it would make no difference.

As time ticked on, more and more of the Artists’ council members submitted abstention votes.

A system notification flashed before Daniel’s eyes:

[Second protocol completed. Congratulations, Mr. Charlotte. You are now the full owner of the Primordial Core Weapon.]

A smug smile curled on Daniel’s lips when he saw the message appear on the control console.

Even a place as technologically advanced as the Artist City had not been able to resist his infiltration.

As for the underlying principles of the Primordial Core Weapon, after absorbing a massive amount of knowledge, Daniel had fully understood how it worked.

To put it plainly: as long as he was provided with the right materials, Daniel could now manually assemble a Primordial Core Weapon at any time.

And the very moment he gained full administrative privileges, Daniel immediately deactivated the Primordial Core Weapon.

Once again, the weapon fell into dormancy—and Daniel finally breathed a sigh of relief.

In this state, the weapon was far safer. Even if someone were to touch it, or kick it for that matter, it wouldn’t react in the slightest.

After all, a god’s corpse was composed of extremely stable material. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t leak any energy whatsoever. It was only due to the Artist race’s use of certain unique techniques that the god’s body had been able to emit power.

Once Daniel—still in the form of Charlotte—gained full authority over the Primordial Core Weapon, he promptly transferred that authority back to his true self.

This transfer process had become significantly easier than before. There was no longer a need for endless rounds of verification and security checks.

When the transition was complete, Daniel reverted to his original appearance.

Now, he was the supreme commander of the entire Artist City, holding its highest administrative and technological privileges.

Without any hesitation, Daniel placed both Primordial Core Weapons into his backpack.

Moreover, he didn’t leave behind any of the auxiliary materials either. He swept them all into his inventory in one go.

With that task complete, Daniel drew the Dagger of the God of Thieves and began to replicate the Primordial Core Weapon, splitting it into 40 copies.

The only slight disappointment was that the [Gift of the Veiled Goddess] could not render the Primordial Core Weapon into an infinite-use consumable.

Still, even with that limitation, possessing 42 copies of the weapon—along with a mountain of raw materials—made Daniel overwhelmingly powerful.

At long last, Daniel understood why Charles had been so obsessed with the Artists.

This race was simply too absurd.

All one had to do was give them the necessary resources, and they could build weapons on par with the gods.

Charles’ logic was simple and brutally efficient: give the Artists materials, wait for them to craft the Primordial Core Weapons, then swoop in and steal them. The return on investment was, without a doubt, heaven-defying.

But this strategy wasn’t without risk.

If one failed to snatch the weapon in time, the consequences could be catastrophic—potentially even leading to the annihilation of an entire race.

The gnome race was a prime example of what could go wrong.

High risk often comes with high reward. It seemed that the so-called Luck Goddess truly was mad.

But upon deeper reflection, perhaps everything had been part of her grand design all along.

To such a deity, the lives of ordinary races were like ants—insignificant. The destruction of the entire gnome race was a small price to pay, as long as it led to the recovery of a Primordial Core Weapon.

And now, Daniel was essentially helping the Luck Goddess retrieve those very weapons.

Only... she had made one miscalculation.

Daniel had never become her devotee.

Nor did he have any intention of handing the Primordial Core Weapon over to Charles.

What kind of joke was that?

This was a god-slaying weapon—one of the few capable of resisting the millennium-old Apocalypse. There was no way Daniel would let it go.

It had already become one of the most crucial trump cards in his arsenal.

Its value surpassed even that of many God Rank Skills.

At the same moment Daniel’s main body stored away the weapons, his clones began looting the entire city.

They took everything that could be carried. As for what they couldn’t take... well, there was little he could do about that.

Once the entire operation was complete, Daniel appeared once again before the massive water tank in the city’s depths.

Inside was the Godmaking Project’s masterpiece: [New Life].

Daniel looked at the creature with a mixture of disgust and disdain.

He no longer saw any need to hide his identity and decisively deactivated his God Rank Skill, [Mist].

The moment he did, the massive eyeball of [New Life] immediately locked onto him.

"Target identified: Human," it intoned coldly.

"Unauthorized biological entity detected within city boundaries. Initiating full-system purge."

As the mechanical voice rang out, the liquid inside the gigantic tank began to boil violently.

Yet just before the creature could launch its attack, Daniel calmly retrieved a single Primordial Core Weapon from his backpack.

"It’s time to say goodbye," he said softly.

"Setting detonation timer: 0.1 seconds."

With everything set, Daniel’s figure blurred—and he instantly returned to the human northern frontier.

And within the City of Artists?

A spectacular, apocalyptic explosion unfolded—one that would be remembered as a masterpiece of divine destruction.

Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m