Forge a path to success.

Chapter 337 Blood Smoke and Blooming Thorns (2)

I've heard that the Third Captain's philosophy is "justice that is never too late."

You believe that wrongdoing should be prevented before it occurs; once a major mistake has been made, delayed justice is meaningless. Therefore, you and your team always appear mysteriously throughout the Third Order to prevent problems before they arise. As a result, major crimes committed by the Poetry Umbrella are always stopped in time before they occur.

To place the safety of all living beings on the shoulders of a mere team—I believe this is a remarkable concept.

That's why I'm so curious to know, where are the limits of "justice"?

Trek held the letter higher so his daughter beside him wouldn't see it. He wanted to tell Lico casually that this was no big deal, just like before, but the instincts honed on the battlefield prevented him from feigning nonchalance.

“Lico, take everyone to the command center,” he said. “You might not be able to contact me for a while, don’t panic.”

The rules of the game are very simple.

An unknown number of bombs were planted throughout the third vein.

All the bombs will be detonated today, but the timing of each bomb's explosion is random.

In other words, even I don't know where the next explosion will happen.

If you can destroy all the bombs, then your "justice" has triumphed.

If you miss any of the bombs, then your "justice" has failed.

I hope you are ready.

Trek took a compass out of his pocket.

The pointer that usually points to where the crime occurred is now spinning wildly and aimlessly, turning into a phantom of despair.

From the moment you see this line...

The game has begun.

The spinning pointer suddenly stopped, the compass pointing directly ahead. The messenger's tears had dried up; blood-red smoke trickled from his empty eye sockets. His body instantly expanded like a hot air balloon, and in the instant before the explosion, a wooden spear fell from the sky, impaling the soldier and pinning him to the ground!

“This is a real hassle,” Trek said.

At the same moment the wooden spear pierced his body, he and the soldier appeared above the desperate battle line. He kicked the soldier away, sending him crashing into a group of corrupted beasts. The soldier exploded with power the instant he landed, and a crimson light rose from the battle line!

The entire horde of mutated beasts was reduced to ashes. The level 4 beasts, who prided themselves on their robust physiques, had no chance to even struggle against this bomb. Even the parched land vanished, the detonation point becoming a crater as deep as a meteorite impact, from which crimson smoke rose, mingling with the dust.

A mercenary behind them stared wide-eyed: "A new weapon from the city-state?!"

"There will be lots of fireworks today," Trek told him.

He vanished again, returning to the bustling city center of the Third Pulse. The long-distance teleportation brought a brief sense of emptiness, but the self-circulating Chalice of Honor replenished the lost energy after stopping the crime. The distance from the city-state to the middle of the Desperate Front was too far, but he had to conduct his experiments in an area that wouldn't endanger the citizens. The compass pointed to a balloon rising from the crowd, and thoughts flowed through Trek's mind like water.

The first strike that pierced the soldier was a sealing technique that isolated the flow of energy. The fact that the bomb detonated normally indicates that it lacked a precise internal structure or was an overly complex integrated design. In terms of destructive power alone, a single bomb is equivalent to a full-force strike from a top-tier mass level four, and its range could cover at least a city block, meaning at least several thousand direct casualties.

How many bombs were there? Hundreds? Thousands? Even if we take the most ideal estimate of 100, that would directly threaten the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. And he couldn't let a single one go.

Thinking paused for a moment. Trek grabbed the colorful balloon, while the child who was jumping up to try and snatch it looked aggrieved.

"I'll send you a new one later," Trek told him with a smile.

The balloon was teleported again, detonating above the battle line. The aftershocks only affected a few birds. Again, no remains were left, only smoke. This bomb seemed to have an extremely strong effect on living beings; the crimson smoke was the remnant of their decomposition. Trek used a bunch of flowers to collect the smoke as a sample for preservation, and his compass began to shake erratically once more.

Trek channeled even more mental energy: "You better take this seriously too."

This compass is his Cup of Honor. It's the pointer that points to evil, granting him the ability to bring justice to the rescue. With it, he can appear at crime scenes, battlefields, or other places rife with malice, or even around his comrades, thus preventing crimes in advance. The compass of justice can also remove others and objects, but that comes with double the consumption of mental energy and requires even more precise control.

It was because of the compass that Trek was able to maintain his composure and preparedness. But this time he completely miscalculated, allowing the enemy to operate in the third vein without noticing anything, and the compass only reacted at this moment... Not only that, the team's routine checks yielded no results, and even the Temple of Thorns did not issue any warnings. Everyone maintained the attitude that "everything was fine until yesterday" as they faced the present.

(The other side possesses an enormous amount of intelligence, including my abilities, the Divine Guard's routine inspection methods, and the way they can evade the Divine Tree... There's a traitor in a very high position.)
With precise compass positioning, he appeared in front of a hot dog stand, teleporting once more and unleashing an explosion. The next target's detonation is in 2 seconds. A florist snatches flowers. 2 seconds. A flower cart's emblem is removed. 1 second. A ball bouncing on a sports field. 0.7 seconds. A scholar's computing terminal. 1.7 seconds. A projection crystal playing a program. 3 seconds…

There was absolutely no pattern. The timing of the detonation, the location of the detonation, even the shape of the bomb itself—it was all unpredictable. Until the very moment before it exploded, even he couldn't determine which of the objects around him would be the bomb.

The criminal fused the core of the Blood Smoke Bomb into an ordinary object, demonstrating extremely high precision in his manipulation of matter... Based on this, it can be inferred that he is likely one of the few rational Supreme Path Ascenders, most likely a Level 5 Anti-Lyric Rainbow, and causing destruction is their specialty.

This ruthless bomb-monger has no bottom line, disregarding the casualties of innocent people. Judging from the tone of his challenging letter, he is the most troublesome and enjoyable criminal ever. He lurked among the crowd, patiently evading the search by the Divine Guard, crafting bombs one by one, all to trigger today's tragedy…

Trek abruptly stopped thinking. Something was wrong. It was hard to imagine that an Anti-Rayet could be so adept at infiltration. These highly emotional individuals were extremely impatient for quick results and preferred immediate outcomes. If the Spiral Tower was behind this, the Rainbow Abominations would most likely have created an unstoppable, massive bomb, suspending it above the Third Pulse to revel in the citizens' despair, rather than providing a specific opportunity to "stop" it.

Moreover, the fact that the Supreme Path concealed its tracks is inherently incongruous... Is the culprit schizophrenic? The possibility of a gang committing the crime is very low; who could cooperate with Anti-Law Rainbow...?

0.9 seconds. The short break ended, and Trek appeared at the tortilla stand, his pointer pointing to a chubby boy who had just eaten a large frozen tortilla smeared with honey.

"Do you want some pancakes too?" the chubby boy asked, looking rather silly.

Trek was glad he was wearing sunglasses, so others couldn't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He punched the chubby boy in the chest, and the upward-flowing divine power caused the pancake to be spat out. The bomb-like frozen pancake had already turned to light. There was no time to teleport. Trek's hands turned to wood, his ten fingers, growing like tree branches, coiled into a ball, locking the bomb in place.

Thorn Robe Divine Art - Branch Prison, the first layer of divine protection. At the same time, Trek planted his feet firmly in the ground, drawing power to set up the second layer of divine protection. There was no time to cast a sealing spell; after strengthening his body, he lunged forward, slamming the bomb beneath him.

explosion.

People heard a deafening roar and felt the ground slide; the force of the blood-smoke bomb was transferred underground through its roots. Trek was blasted a kilometer away, transferring the main body of the bomb high into the sky, thus dissipating the secondary disaster into the clouds.

Trek's vision went white; the direct impact of the bomb caused him brief dizziness. It was stronger than the first one; was its power random?

He wasted a precious second in his daze, realizing he was lying in a broken wooden box, surrounded by flattened fruit. The pig stall owner stared at him in utter astonishment.

"Sir, you're injured! Don't move!" it said anxiously. "I'll take you to the temple—"

"Thanks for not making me pay up," Trek thought. He vanished from the stall owner's sight and grabbed a wooden chair in the restaurant. The wasted opportunity made it impossible for him to maintain his previous rhythm, so he threw the bomb directly into the sea, the blast tearing dozens of demons apart.

To rid the people of a scourge. His thoughts raced uncontrollably through his mind, whether from the aftereffects of his injury or the bomb's effects, he couldn't tell. Trek steadied himself, wiping the blood from his face. He had gathered enough intelligence about the bomb; he used a small amount of divine power to activate communications and enter the common channel of all teams.

"The situation at Mansa Starburg is under control. All teams, please report." He heard Banningtik's voice.

"Yes! No abnormalities reported for the second team!"

"We're dealing with demonic incursions here, and we're currently suppressing them while protecting civilians. Considering the potential for panic during evacuations, we've refrained from large-scale firefights at this time," Harleiroya reported. "Thanks to the assistance of helpful citizens, the situation is under our control."

"There's also a situation in the fields. A large number of unfamiliar mobile dolls have appeared, and they are extremely effective against war plants," the fourth captain reported. "Same here. Thank you for your spontaneous support, senior."

The ominous premonition came true. Banningtik had previously thought Fort Mansa and the military camp were the most vulnerable areas, but the amusement park and fields were the ones where the trouble started. If the third sequence's defenses were tight, the enemy's main force would likely take the opportunity to move to sequences 4 and 5. Fortunately, they had taken precautions in advance, with two point 5s in charge, so the disturbance could be controlled. In this light, the worst situation was actually on their side…

As he dealt with the bomb, Banningtik called out, "Third team, please report."

"Okay, okay, routine report. No issues with the third team. Call me anytime if they need support."

Trek heard the voice of the man who had done the job perfunctorily.

That was his own voice.

(End of this chapter)