Chapter Seventy: [Class A Esper]

Chapter Seventy: [Class A Ability User]

A tall Caucasian man in a sharp suit ascended to the second floor and knocked on a door. When it opened, a dissatisfied young man’s voice sounded from within.

Dick Hoffman poked his head out and saw his uncle, Valentin. His other uncle, Tyrone, was meditating in the room across the hall, still recuperating from injuries. Both had been sent by Mandel to assist Dick.

“Uncle, what’s the matter? Why so urgent?” Dick asked, his annoyance clear. There were three beautiful women asleep in his room; if they weren’t still useful to him, he would have acted already.

Valentin said, “Dick, it’s bad. We’ve lost a lot of our men. That guy has arrived, but we haven’t found any trace of him yet.”

“What? So many people killed, why wasn’t there an alarm?” Dick tensed immediately.

Valentin replied, “That’s exactly what makes him frightening. He’s not an ordinary Class B ability user, and he’s cunning. If he had a hero complex and tried to break through head-on, he’d be easier to deal with. But he’s the type who doesn’t care about appearances, picking us off covertly. We underestimated him.”

“Uncle Valentin, we’re the Del Solan conglomerate. The Hoffman family is an old, noble house in the western region. He’s just a brat who recently became a Class B. You, me, and Uncle Tyrone are all Class A ability users—surely that’s enough?” Dick rattled off, pride and disdain lacing his words.

“But Dick, we’ve lost more than half our people. We can’t afford to be careless anymore. Your father sent Tyrone and me not just to deal with enemies, but to protect you. You are the hope of the Hoffman family’s rise. Nothing must happen to you.” With that, Valentin left, knowing his nephew wouldn’t heed his advice. He and Tyrone weren’t core members in the Hoffman family, but Dick was a direct descendant—he couldn’t be lost.

Dick watched Valentin descend the stairs, his expression darkening. He thought of the three women inside and a wicked smile crept across his face. “Bastard, dare to kill my men? Then I’ll ruin these three women and see how you explain yourself.”

Back inside, he found the three women still unconscious on the bed. He poured himself a glass of water, took out a box of pills, swallowed one, and soon, desire flooded him, an urge for conquest overwhelming his senses.

Half an hour later, Dick felt invigorated, euphoric. He lit a post-coital cigarette and approached his pre-set camera to admire his own prowess.

“PLAY”—the footage showed Dick Hoffman in endless entanglement with three sows, preserved in full detail. The post-coital scene, with the three sows languidly sprawled across his chest, was especially exquisite.

“What... what’s going on?” Dick felt his whole body turn cold, as if ice water ran through his veins.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk...” A voice of admiration sounded, and from the shadow in the corner of the room emerged a figure—none other than Xia Zhe.

“You... When did you get here?” Dick, forgetting their enmity, blurted out his curiosity.

Xia Zhe glanced at the three wild sows on the bed and said, “Since you took the pill to indulge these three sows. Who would have thought that the young master of a noble western house would have such tastes? Truly refreshing, I must admit I pale in comparison...”

“You... You... You damned bastard... I’ll kill you...” Dick’s fury exploded, his arms transforming—he was a power-enhancing type.

Instantly, Dick grew two kirin-like arms, roaring as he swung his fists at Xia Zhe, intent on pounding him into pulp.

Xia Zhe, unimpressed by such reckless assault, waved his hand, conjuring two gusts that caught Dick’s arms and pinned them to the wall.

“Class A ability user? You think you deserve the title?” Xia Zhe was disappointed. Despite Dick’s rank, he possessed none of the strength it implied—his body enfeebled by indulgence, his abilities lacking, even inferior to some Class B users. Evidently, the true combat power of an ability user did not always align with their rank.

“Waa...” Dick tried to scream, but Xia Zhe dislocated his jaw, leaving him only able to drool and grunt.

“Hoffman scion, your explicit film with three sows has been uploaded by me to the Federation’s largest short-video platform. The views have already exceeded ten million. By tomorrow, it’ll be the week’s hottest news in the Federation, making Del Solan conglomerate the talk of the noble world. Congratulations!” Xia Zhe’s venomous words pushed Dick to despair; he could already imagine how his grandfather would react with fury.

Dick glared at Xia Zhe with poisonous eyes, vowing lifelong vengeance. Xia Zhe stared back, fearless. “You think I’m excessive? You think just because you touched a few of my friends, I’d go this far for revenge?”

Dick nodded, only to receive a punch from Xia Zhe that smashed his nose, split his lips, and sent teeth, saliva, and blood spraying.

“To think you still hold such preposterous beliefs. I’m impressed. Is this the aristocratic worldview? Not only must you be above others, but common folk must accept your humiliation and abuse? If nobles simply opposed commoners, we might just exchange a few insults and leave each other be. But if you dare reach your black hands toward us, I’ll slaughter each and every one of you—until none remain, even if it means tearing a hole in this world. I’ll spare your life, let you crawl back and tell that decrepit Del Solan patriarch: you may choose when it begins, but I decide when it ends!” With that, Xia Zhe kicked Dick below the belt, destroying his lineage. Even with his jaw dislocated, Dick’s scream shook the house.

Boom!

The wall shattered, the wooden door splintered, and two formidable figures burst into the room, witnessing the horrific scene.

“Dick...” Valentin’s heart sank, despair flooding him.

Beside him was Tyrone, Dick’s other uncle. Seeing the scene, Tyrone stomped, instantly appearing before Xia Zhe and slamming his palm into Xia Zhe’s chest—so fast it was a blur.

Fortunately, Xia Zhe wore a new protective suit provided by the Foundation, which absorbed much of the blow’s force, though he was still injured. He arched his back, bounced away, crashed through the opposite wall, and left a human-shaped imprint as he landed outside.

Valentin restored Dick’s jaw. Dick, enduring excruciating pain, pleaded, “Uncle, save me... save me...”

“It’s too late... Dick, you were too proud, spoiled endlessly. Your father indulged you, and it’s ruined you.” Valentin lamented; he had just warned Dick, only for disaster to immediately follow. Foolish Dick, still daring to play with women at such a time—utter stupidity.

Valentin tended Dick’s wounds; though most were minor, the injury below was severe. He dispatched several aides to rush Dick to the hospital, then followed Tyrone, tracking Xia Zhe’s trail.

Throwing knives burst into starlike sparks, striking the pursuers behind him. But the enemy was only briefly slowed, his fists pounding the knives away like wind, his skin as hard as steel—when struck, only sparks flew.

“That’s all?” Tyrone sneered, pursuing with incredible speed, quickly catching up to Xia Zhe.

“Don’t rush, take your time,” Xia Zhe coughed, smiling. He popped an energy fruit to restore his mental strength.

“Yes, this is the pressure of a true Class A ability user—a genuine powerhouse.” Xia Zhe felt exhilarated, not frightened, despite being unable to confront Tyrone head-on.

From his quick analysis, Tyrone was an enhancement type, with extreme strength and speed—so in both “power” and “speed,” Xia Zhe was outmatched.

Yet Xia Zhe gleaned some intelligence: Tyrone’s endurance wasn’t great, his bursts were only short and momentary, and he seemed to be carrying injuries.

Whenever Tyrone neared Xia Zhe, he encountered strange obstacles—perhaps the ground turned slippery as ice, a sudden earthen wall appeared, a water curtain materialized, or lightning flashed, each time something new.

“Is this kid a natural-type with full elemental abilities?” Tyrone grew cautious, no longer sprinting at full speed.

Eventually, one chased, one fled, arriving at a hillside more than twenty kilometers from Dannut City—farther than before.

He recalled another person in the house, but it would take them minutes to catch up.

“Luring me here, are you seeking a better burial ground for yourself?” Tyrone stood with his hands behind his back, radiating an air of mastery.

Xia Zhe surveyed the scenery and smiled, “You’re mistaken, elder. I prepared this burial ground as a tribute to you.”

“Overconfident!” Tyrone unleashed his earth-shrinking skill, smashing a fist into Xia Zhe’s chest—a blow strong enough to shatter it.

But the punch shattered Xia Zhe entirely.

“Damn, an illusion—but why so real?” Tyrone caught on, retreating, only to be blocked by a wall, which he smashed. Suddenly, the ground turned to quicksand, rapidly spreading. Tyrone howled, leaping high toward the nearest tree.

But the tree seemed to come alive, branches transforming into swords, stabbing at Tyrone.

He unleashed a hundred punches in a flash, breaking the sword-laden tree into pieces, blades shattering.

Landing on the now-normal tree, he relaxed, only to find it morphing into bandages, binding him. Tyrone roared, struggling free, but it took a few seconds.

In those seconds, a will struck from the darkness. Tyrone’s aura surged, resisting the intrusion for a moment.

“A mind-controller... You’re no ordinary mind-controller...” Tyrone was alarmed; he hadn’t understood Xia Zhe before, assuming he was a rare full-elemental natural type, but now realized his mistake.

“That’s right, I am a mind-controller—break!” The battle of wills was the Achilles’ heel of non-mental ability users. Tyrone’s resistance was rare, but in moments he faltered.

The invading will was domineering, laced with murderous intent, breaking through the defenses Tyrone had built over a lifetime. He was just a second away from escaping—too late.

All of Xia Zhe’s prior attacks were distractions, meant to set up this final strike of consciousness.

Such mental attacks targeted the brain directly; even mind-controllers found them perilous.

When Xia Zhe’s will invaded Tyrone’s mind, Tyrone could only groan before his head slumped, bandages gently lowering him to the ground. In that instant, Tyrone’s brain was severely damaged and he fell under Xia Zhe’s control.