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Chapter 452. Sylvia's Choice
The sound of the explosion at the thermal power plant was still ringing in their ears, and the situation was spreading rapidly like wildfire.

The Vatican was furious and immediately issued orders for a violent crackdown.

On the long street, the sharp blades of the Papacy's guards pierced straight into the chest of the leader of the procession.

"Pfft..."

Blood splattered, instantly staining the ground red, and the crowd descended into unprecedented chaos amidst horror and screams.

Jiang Jianxin stood on the edge of the hospital rooftop, the wind lifting the hem of her coat.

Below, the long street directly opposite the headquarters of Rose Medical has become a battlefield.

The corpses lay sprawled on the ground in various contorted positions, with blood that had not yet congealed slowly flowing between the bricks.

The guards, armed with blood-stained weapons, marched in orderly steps, their boots splattering dark red mud as they stepped over pools of blood.

And the source of all this—the Rose Group's building—still stands solemnly and majestically on the street.

The passing guards greeted it respectfully, and no one cast a suspicious glance at it.

The social unrest is merely a symptom of the disaster; the deeper erosion comes from the complete collapse of the Divine Grace Coupon.

Credit collapsed like an avalanche, followed by an out-of-control surge in prices.

The price tags on bread in the shop window change several times a day, and the ever-increasing numbers sting every hungry eye.

Not long ago, the wealthy could spend lavishly in luxury restaurants, but now they clutch their money and stare in vain outside closed bakeries, where even the coarsest black bread has become an unattainable luxury.

The number of homeless people on the streets is growing daily.

They huddled under the eaves and in the arches of bridges, their eyes vacant.

In this gray, wandering group, one can occasionally see figures that stand out from their surroundings—silk clothes stained with dust, pale faces bearing the lingering pride, yet frozen stiff by the harsh realities of life.

The young masters and ladies of yesteryear can now only wrap themselves tightly in thin clothes and shiver in the cold wind.

This is a silent yet thorough reshuffling.

The old order and glory vanished with the evaporation of wealth.

Most of the surnames that once shone in high society were not spared in this all-encompassing disaster, and along with the shattered gift certificates, were swept into the corners of history.

"despair……"

Jiang Jianxin, carrying his sword, strolled along the somewhat desolate street, when he unexpectedly encountered a passing, exquisite carriage.

The carriage curtain was pulled back, revealing Sylvia's face.

"Miss Aman! Shall we have a chat?"

Since they were acquaintances, Jiang Jianxin moved closer and leaned against the carriage, facing Sylvia through the window.

The latter told Jiang Jianxin that he ultimately chose to sell off the Divine Grace Coupons, but he did not sell them all; he only disposed of half of them.

"...Therefore, although the Bella family has incurred losses due to this disaster, it is far from being crippled."

Sylvia's voice was low, tinged with the cautiousness of someone who had just survived a close call:

"Upon closer inspection, we even... made a small profit."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Jianxin smiled sincerely.

Behind the car window, Sylvia's expression became hesitant. After a moment's hesitation, she finally asked softly:
"Actually... you're not a young lady from the Oman family, are you?"

"Oh?"

Jiang Jianxin spoke gently:
“How come you see?”

“Because the Aman family is the same family that manages that exploded power plant for the Vatican. This time, not only did their businesses suffer losses, but they also purchased a huge amount of Divine Grace Certificates…” Sylvia’s voice carried a complex sigh:

"After this ordeal, they are completely bankrupt. Several families that worked closely with them have also been dragged down with them."

Sylvia paused for a moment, then whispered gossip:

"The boy who shook hands with you at the flying carriage shop last time has now dropped out of the prestigious academy, and he sold all the flying carriages in his garage to me at a low price..."

“I used to need to muster up courage just to say hello, and I could only look up to her from afar. Now, I’m humbly asking if the Bella family can lend a hand…”

Sylvia shook her head and said softly, "Life is truly unpredictable."

Jiang Jianxin smiled, his gaze fixed on the lingering mist on the distant street, his tone calm yet profound:
"In a grand scheme, by the time the game is over, there are always only a handful of winners. All the others who participate are merely pawns on the chessboard, destined to be cannon fodder."

Clearly, the biggest winner in this game is the financier who can manipulate events, and the unshakable behemoth behind her—the Rose Group.

As the most powerful of the neutral deities, the "God of Wealth," who is worshipped by millions and whose influence has endured for centuries, truly possesses unfathomable power and influence.

The two chatted for a while about their recent situations.

Then, Sylvia said goodbye to her because she had to rush to her extracurricular class.

After this battle, her prestige within the family was completely established.

Perhaps soon, the name "Bella Silvia" will appear on the front page of financial news or in the whispers of the streets as the new head of the Bella family.

Jiang Jianxin was very happy that she had achieved such success and was sincerely happy for her even more magnificent life ahead.

Before the carriage started moving, Sylvia leaned out of the window again, her gaze fixed intently on her:
"So, who exactly are you? Can you tell me now?"

Jiang Jianxin paused slightly, then gave a relaxed smile that was almost joking:
"Just a saint who once revolutionized the world."

She waved, turned, and disappeared into the twilight flowing around the street corner, her voice drifting gently on the wind:
"That's all in the past."

……

In the workshop of sculptor Grant in the working-class district.

The woman in the old gray coat leaned against the workbench and silently slid down to sit on the floor.

Beside her, mountains of fine wood and stone were piled up for carving the statue.

But now, with the news of the gods' silence sweeping across the land like a cold wave, these materials that once symbolized faith and hope have completely lost their value.

Orders vanished quickly. Reservations that were booked months in advance yesterday disappeared in an instant, cancellation messages came like snowflakes, and in the end, only silence remained.

It only took one day for the site to go from being fully booked to empty.

And she happened to buy this massive amount of raw materials at the peak of the price.

At this moment, they are not only useless piles of things, but also proof of her losses.

Thus, Grant, the genius sculptor who had almost reached the threshold of nobility, fell back to the dust overnight.

The past glory and the impending upward mobility have all vanished like sandcastles blown away by the wind.

She just sat there blankly, her gaze sweeping across the logs and stones that had once filled her with passion and anticipation, and the completed statues that would never see their master again.

The faces of each statue remain compassionate and serene, yet at this moment they seem like a silent mockery.

Those hands that once imbued wood and stone with divinity, those hands she was so proud of, have now become shackles that drag her into the abyss.

Her superb skills did not bring her glory; instead, they nailed her firmly to the cross of bankruptcy and despair.

Grant stared blankly at everything before him, a silent question echoing repeatedly in the cold air:
Why... did everything turn out like this?