Chapter Seventy-Six: The Mysterious Honored Guest

Chapter Seventy-Six: [The Mysterious Honored Guest]

Xia Zhen noticed something peculiar about tonight’s banquet—the hotel’s security was exceptional, with many guards hidden from sight, all highly skilled. If he weren’t a psychic, he might never have detected them.

The elevator ascended steadily, finally stopping at the top floor.

“Please, Mr. Xia.” The guide had changed again; this time it was a blonde woman in a smart red business suit, her skin purposefully tanned.

“Do you have any weapons on you, Mr. Xia?” she asked.

Xia Zhen shook his head. His usual arms were throwing knives and needles—long-range concealed weapons. But tonight, he was attending a banquet, and had brought none. For a psychic, anything at hand could become a weapon; there was no need to carry them.

“Before you enter the banquet hall, we need you to undergo a security check. Our honored guest tonight is very important; I hope you understand.” The woman gestured toward a nearby room. Xia Zhen was reluctant, but remembering Shen Tu Yue’s support for him, he suppressed his misgivings.

The moment he entered the room, Xia Zhen sensed a mysterious force enveloping him, binding his mental powers so tightly he couldn’t summon them—only a trace of his consciousness remained active.

“Anti-magic stone?” Xia Zhen asked.

The woman in red nodded. “That’s right. The room is built from anti-magic stone, mainly to restrict those with supernatural abilities. But rest assured, Mr. Xia, with Mr. Shen Tu Yue’s guarantee, this is just a routine check. You’re perfectly safe.”

Xia Zhen scrutinized her. His abilities were severely restricted; if these people meant him harm, he’d be in danger. Fortunately, he still had a sliver of consciousness stored in his computer, and his physical skills weren’t lacking, though these guards were certainly formidable.

Ultimately, Xia Zhen agreed to the inspection. Shen Tu Yue’s reputation was trustworthy, and curiosity gnawed at him—just who was tonight’s VIP, warranting such elaborate preparations?

The check was routine, nothing unusual, and ended in only ten minutes, allowing Xia Zhen to breathe easier.

Afterwards, the blonde woman led him to the end of the corridor, stopping before a banquet hall. Two men in suits and sunglasses guarded the entrance, clearly security. They wore Bluetooth earpieces, exchanged words, and opened the door, letting classical music spill out.

The woman in red escorted Xia Zhen inside. The hall had been meticulously decorated, not garish but exuding an air of refinement and elegance.

“Zhen, you’re here.” Shen Tu Yue’s voice rang out. The old gentleman wore a tailcoat, his hair neatly combed, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a debonair, gentlemanly appearance.

Xia Zhen stepped forward. “Sir, what kind of performance are you staging tonight, with such grand arrangements?”

“Heh… The secret must remain hidden for now. You’ll understand soon enough.” With that, he led Xia Zhen around a group of elderly men and women his own age. Xia Zhen glanced back at the woman in red—she smiled at him, her manner impeccable, so he returned the gesture.

As he approached the group, Xia Zhen realized these were no ordinary people—their names were all among the Federation’s top hundred wealthiest. Each one was a big player.

There were about twenty in all, united under Shen Tu Yue’s leadership.

Xia Zhen noticed that across the hall, seven or eight men and women mingled, younger, perhaps in their forties or fifties. Among the truly young, Xia Zhen seemed to be the only one. The woman in red, older than he, had disappeared elsewhere.

Those men and women eyed Xia Zhen’s group with suspicion and hostility. Among them, a man and a white-haired elder repeatedly scrutinized him, their animosity palpable.

“Strange how those two keep staring at you, isn’t it?” Shen Tu Yue approached, holding a glass of wine.

Xia Zhen nodded. “Who are they?”

“They’re the representatives of the Delansol financial group—current patriarch Philip and his third son, Ray,” Shen Tu Yue explained.

Enlightenment dawned on Xia Zhen—enemies meeting face to face, sparks flying.

But Xia Zhen wasn’t afraid. First, they had no evidence; second, he’d done nothing wrong. If anyone threatened his loved ones, they had crossed his bottom line.

“Grandfather Shen Tu, are you planning to play mediator tonight?” Xia Zhen asked.

Shen Tu Yue chuckled, sensing Xia Zhen’s displeasure. “Not my intention. But there must be a resolution between you and the Hoffman family. That’s what tonight is about.”

Just then, a commotion at the entrance signaled the arrival of someone extraordinary. Everyone in the hall turned. General Song Xinghui strode in, accompanied by a familiar old friend and four or five guards.

Xia Zhen recognized Song Xinghui, but the person beside him surprised him greatly—it had been ages since they’d met.

Tonight, Felina was also in uniform, though hers was tailored for a woman: a blue jacket, white trousers, no cap. Her pale blonde hair was pinned up, a lock hanging down each cheek, giving her a charming yet spirited look.

Song Xinghui, imposing and hawk-eyed, commanded the room. Both Shen Tu Yue’s circle and the wealthy supporters of Delansol came forward to greet him.

After exchanging pleasantries, Song Xinghui spotted Xia Zhen in formal attire beside Shen Tu Yue and strode over. Felina appeared surprised, but quickly broke into a smile, as if seeing an old friend.

“Greetings, Grandfather Song.” Xia Zhen stepped forward and bowed.

Song Xinghui laughed heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. “So it’s you, boy. No wonder people told me tonight’s banquet was connected to me. Well, it’s good; this matter needs to be addressed head-on.”

He cast a sharp glance at Philip and Ray, who avoided his gaze—much to Song Xinghui’s annoyance. How could the founding generation of the Federation be so lacking in confidence?

After a brief greeting, Song Xinghui and Shen Tu Yue began to chat. Though not close friends, they had long respected each other, and their conversation was lively. To Philip and Ray, however, the scene was nothing short of disastrous.

“Xia Zhen, long time no see.” When the crowd’s attention was drawn to Song Xinghui and Shen Tu Yue, Felina reached out to him. Xia Zhen gently took her hand, intending to release it, but she held on.

“Long time, Felina... Wait, you’ve been promoted—Major Felina?” Xia Zhen realized the blue-and-white uniform signified a field officer rank, and the gold star on her left breast meant she was a major.

Remarkable—within just half a year, she’d advanced from lieutenant to major. Such a promotion required significant merit.

“Heh... Thanks. You’ve made quite a name for yourself lately, but you’re always stirring up trouble. How did you manage to provoke the Delansolan financial group?” Felina seemed unconcerned about holding Xia Zhen’s hand, dragging him to the table. She poured herself a glass of red wine; Xia Zhen, who disliked alcohol, took a glass of juice instead. It was an important occasion tonight.

Felina poured herself wine, and they clinked glasses. Xia Zhen replied, “Felina, that’s funny. You can drink recklessly, but you can’t talk recklessly. I’m innocent.”

Felina laughed, “Still stubborn, I see. Never mind, I won’t press you. By the way, when do you plan to visit Evernight City?”

She was astonished by Xia Zhen’s rapid progress, and regretted the military’s loss of such a talent. Had it not been for Dias, Xia Zhen would have been her comrade, perhaps even serving under her command.

Xia Zhen thought for a moment. “If I make it into the top eight in the first Supernatural Tournament, my wish will come true.”

“Oh, top eight? That’s not easy. Are you confident?” Felina raised her brows.

“Absolutely,” Xia Zhen replied, draining his juice.

Felina burst into laughter, her ample chest shaking conspicuously, drawing admiring glances from Xia Zhen and several elderly men nearby.

Felina noticed Xia Zhen’s gaze, rolled her eyes playfully, but wasn’t angry. “Fortunately, I’ll be back for a while. I can watch your matches. Don’t let me down.”

“By the way, Major Felina—” Xia Zhen began, only to be interrupted.

“Just call me Felina. No need to keep saying ‘Major.’ And let me remind you—Dias is a major now too, about to be promoted to lieutenant colonel. I only just became a major,” Felina mentioned a familiar stranger.

Xia Zhen paused, recalling who Dias was, then forced himself to say, “Your fiancé is impressive...”

“Fiancé?” Felina laughed. “I broke off the engagement ages ago. Now I serve under General Song; my parents can’t force me anymore.”

For some reason, learning that she was no longer engaged to Dias brought Xia Zhen inexplicable joy—he felt ashamed for it, but couldn’t help his genuine feeling.

“Oh... That’s... really... unfortunate... Sorry...” Xia Zhen feigned sympathy, but his tone betrayed his happiness.

Felina noticed, and said, half in jest, “Yes, now I’m single, no one’s pursuing me, and a little lonely...”

“This... ahem...” Xia Zhen coughed, sensing the atmosphere growing too intimate. Felina’s gaze became more alluring, leaving him flustered.

Fortunately, just then, a stir swept through the hall. Another prominent figure must have arrived.

Indeed, even General Song Xinghui and Shen Tu Yue showed signs of respectful welcome. Who could it be?

A burly man with a square jaw, a thick beard, short blue hair, and around fifty years old, entered surrounded by elite security. The room erupted in applause, and Xia Zhen finally understood the identity of tonight’s honored guest.

He was none other than the current President of the Azure Federation—Cornelius Wilson, the most powerful figure in the world today. His name echoed throughout the Federation, known to every household.