Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 160 A loving father and a filial son

"What do you mean a Witrum guy has arrived? Didn't you say you'd handle it?"

"I'm saying I'll handle Nolan's affairs. Anything outside of Nolan's is none of my business. You should be grateful I'm helping you with this now. Also, you haven't paid me back for the cigarettes. Don't push your luck."

"Fuck you, Locke."

"Fuck you, Cecilia."

After exchanging insults, Locke hung up the phone, looked at his two grandsons who had changed into their new uniforms, took a swig of wine, and asked, "Ready? It's time for fatherly love and filial piety."

Little Ma, dressed in the classic red and yellow uniform of the Invincible Young Hero, had a look of utter despair on his face.

He had just heard from Old Ma about his father's actions of creating another world. Even though his father eventually came to his senses, a chill still ran down his spine, and he was so frightened that his fingertips went numb.

Even he was surprised that the truth, which should have been hard for him to accept, was not as heart-wrenching or unbearable as he had imagined.

After thinking it over, it was probably because Grandpa Locke had dragged him on these outrageous adventures, pushing his psychological tolerance to an absurd level.

After all, his father and Witrum's mess only tested and tormented him morally and ethically, but his grandfather Locke, who was hardly a normal person, gave him a 360-degree, all-around, and relentless torment, both physically and mentally.

Thinking about the so-called "parallel world adventures" that Grandpa Locke had been dragging him around on these past few days, Xiao Ma instinctively shuddered, goosebumps rising all over his arms. He quickly raised his hand, his face showing the awkwardness and panic that a young man couldn't hide, and asked, "I have a question! I just awakened my superpowers and can't even control them steadily yet. If a fight really breaks out, how am I supposed to fight?"

Locke didn't even look up, habitually taking a swig of his drink, and casually replied, "Remember those super-powered crystals I had you dig up before?"

Xiao Ma paused for a moment, then quickly nodded, "I remember, what's wrong?"

"That thing, besides being incredibly useful as a catalyst, can also target potential development by directly stimulating the cerebral cortex. It can help you stabilize your superpowers, and there is no risk as long as you don't have Alzheimer's disease."

As soon as he finished speaking, he reached up to the ceiling and with a crisp "click," pulled down a retractable, suspended quantum storage cabinet embedded in the ceiling from the ceiling's mezzanine.

The moment the cabinet door popped open, a flash of pale blue energy light appeared. Locke casually took out a super-energy crystal that shimmered with a faint blue light, tossed it into the precision grinding machine next to him, and pressed the switch. The machine immediately emitted a low hum and began grinding powder at a steady speed.

Seeing this, Old Ma and Little Ma didn't say anything more. They turned their heads and mentally prepared themselves, starting to think about everything that had happened recently. Locke's gaze, however, was fixed on the red-glowing instrument in the corner of the base.

Night had completely enveloped the North American continent. Ten hours had passed since Immortal and Nolan joined forces to quell the riots of the Giant Lizard Alliance at dawn.

Thick smoke still lingered atop the skyscrapers of Midtown Manhattan. Just as the Immortal had firmly pinned the superpowered villain who had attempted to replicate the 9/11 attacks, manipulated airflow to stop a commercial airliner, and tried to crash into an office building, the encrypted communication terminal on his wrist, exclusive to the Global Guardians, suddenly emitted a sharp, piercing red alarm.

At the same time, in every corner of the world, all members of the Global Guardians received the signal simultaneously on their terminals. Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing, and without the slightest hesitation, they all turned around and sped toward the Global Guardians headquarters in New York at top speed.

Debbie just opened the door to her home.

Through the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows, he could clearly see that Debbie wasn't pouring herself a glass of red wine as usual, but instead standing in front of the kitchen counter, slowly brewing a pot of hot tea, the rising steam blurring her profile.

He knew all too well that ever since she discovered her father Locke's alcoholism, Debbie had taken the lead in quitting drinking and then engaged in a protracted battle of wits with Locke over alcohol. The flasks she confiscated alone filled two entire cupboards.

When his gaze fell upon the woman who had worn down his sharp, ruthless edges over more than twenty years of life's experiences, Nolan's taut jawline softened involuntarily.

Those fragmented memories surged up uncontrollably: her appearance when we first met, the dazzling light in her eyes when Mark was born, the aroma of coffee on the breakfast table countless mornings, and so many other memories.

But before this warmth could even warm up, the mission of conquest ingrained in the genes of the Witrum Empire, like a cold alarm bell, shattered all his tenderness.

At this moment, Nolan is being consumed by extreme pain.

On one side is the home he can't bear to leave, and on the other is the imperial destiny he has carried for thousands of years.

A mix of emotions surged across his face: inner turmoil, struggle, reluctance, and ruthlessness, causing even his suspended body to tremble slightly.

Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing the tears welling up inside, and abruptly turned around, soaring through the air towards the Global Guardian Base. Only a few tears, unable to be held back, fell into the evening breeze, instantly disappearing into the deep night.

Inside, Debbie seemed to suddenly sense something, abruptly raising her head to look out at the night sky. But outside, there were only scattered lights and a quiet night, not even a trace of wind, nothing at all. She frowned in confusion, reached up to pull the blanket over her shoulders, and turned to turn off the stove that was boiling tea.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Witrum's elite warrior Tura hovered hundreds of meters above the White House.

She held up a massive, inverted pyramid-shaped mountain, several thousand square meters in size, with its sharp rock peaks pointing directly at the iconic dome of the White House. The entire behemoth cast an impenetrable shadow over the area within a hundred meters of the White House.

Rock fragments kept rolling down from the cracks in the rocks, creating deep craters on the White House lawn, but her grip on the mountain was as steady as a rock, her breathing not even slightly disordered. Her silver-white, hard Witrum combat uniform gleamed coldly in the sunlight. With her own strength, she turned the heart of American power into a hostage in her hands.

The ground was already in chaos. Secret Service agents and defense forces had the White House completely surrounded. Heavy machine guns, anti-aircraft missiles, anti-materiel rifles, infantry fighting vehicles, and anti-aircraft vehicles were all set up, and countless gun barrels and cannons were pointed at the sky, but no one dared to pull the trigger.

Everyone knows that if this mountain were to collapse, the entire White House would be instantly reduced to dust, and half of Washington, D.C. would be buried with it.

A beam of dark blue teleportation light suddenly exploded outside the White House, and Cecil's figure landed steadily. This time, the five million dollar targeted teleportation was no different from counting WeChat steps for him.

But when he looked up and saw the scene before him, his brows furrowed instantly. He glanced around at the guards around him, their palms sweating and ready for battle, and then looked up at the familiar yet unfamiliar figure in mid-air. The cold, hard lines of that Witrum combat suit, the iron-blooded aura that treated human weapons as nothing, were exactly the same as Nolan when he first arrived on Earth twenty years ago.

Locke's prior warnings were still ringing in his ears, but seeing this madman's display of force in person, Cissell's temples still throbbed with headache.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the gloom in his heart, turned his head to the encrypted headset in his collar, and said in a deep voice, "Besides the Global Guard, do we have any other options?"

"We are sending orders to several superhero guard companies, and the Young Warriors have already responded. We have not notified the Global Guardians."

"That's good. I really don't know what these Witrum people are thinking, releasing it so early. What if Nolan starts doing it too? We'll have to step in and help cover it up."

Cisel stared intently at Tula in mid-air, his mind racing, but he just couldn't figure out what was wrong with the minds of these Vitrum people.

The Global Guardians were just transferred away by Nolan, and the Witrum warriors have already precisely targeted and stormed the White House. What's the difference between this deployment and a battle of wits? Did these two Witrum people not reach an agreement this morning?

At this moment, Cissell had no idea that this was a trap deliberately set by Tula from beginning to end.

Even though she had neither the right nor the power to refuse Nolan's orders, her vengeful nature made her determined to make Nolan suffer for the rest of his life.

She knew all too well Nolan's plans: to minimize the impact, to complete the conquest with the fewest casualties and in the quietest way possible, both to satisfy the Empire and to avoid completely shattering the warm facade he had maintained on this planet for over twenty years.

But she insisted on leaving Nolan caught in the middle, with nowhere to retreat.

Firstly, it was revenge for the humiliation Nolan had inflicted on her by choking her and trampling on her dignity.

Secondly, it was General Craig's secret order that they personally cut off all of Nolan's escape routes, leaving him with no place to stay on this planet, and confirming that he could only be unconditionally loyal to the Witrum Empire and return to being the "Great Nolan" who conquered star systems for the empire.

Otherwise, given the Empire's current situation, it absolutely cannot allow the emergence of a second traitor.

Therefore, Tura was happy to overturn all of Nolan's plans, and even more so to tear apart Nolan's disguise in front of all of humanity, whom she saw as ants, leaving him with no room to turn back.

Thinking of this, Tula lowered his eyes and glanced at the armed forces on the ground who were on high alert but dared not make a move. A cold sneer appeared on his lips.

The next moment, Tula's voice resounded throughout Washington, D.C., each word like a thunderclap, making everyone's eardrums ache: "I am a warrior of the Witrum Empire! Tell the rulers of your planet to come out and kneel down to accept the rule of the Witrum Empire!"

Just as Cissell frowned deeply, gritting his teeth and preparing to step forward and try to calm down this madman Witrum who could overturn half of Washington at any moment, an unexpected turn of events occurred.

No one could detect his movements. Even Tula, an elite warrior with extraordinary senses, couldn't sense the slightest fluctuation in his aura.

The figure, clad in a deep-sea blue bodysuit, with a blood-red cloak fluttering in the wind and a huge S-shaped shield emblem on his chest, had somehow silently hovered directly above Tula, and the inverted pyramid mountain seemed to be shrouded in his shadow as well.

Cecil's pupils suddenly contracted, and his heart, which had been in his throat, inexplicably relaxed a little. He was very impressed with this young ace of the team and knew his code name.

superman.

In the operations hall of the Global Guardian headquarters, all members except Nolan were present. However, when they cross-checked the source of the signal and discovered that no one had initiated the emergency call to return to the team, the atmosphere in the hall instantly plummeted. They all realized that something was wrong.

Just as everyone's nerves were stretched to the limit, Chisu turned his gaze to the shadows of the base, and then, with a speed exceeding the limits of human vision, he slammed into the Immortal beside him, barely dodging the deadly punch that came flying from the shadows.

Immortal stumbled to his feet, and when he saw the person emerge from the shadows, his pupils contracted sharply, his eyes filled with disbelief, and he exclaimed, "Omnipotent???"

While everyone was stunned by Nolan's sneak attack, Nolan's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

He knew all too well that he had no way out—he had to eliminate these "old friends" who had fought alongside him as quickly as possible, otherwise, by the time Locke realized what was happening, even with Tula's help, he might not have a chance of winning.

These past few days, Locke has been suffocating him at home. The humiliation of being marginalized and estranged from his wife and children, the anxiety of being unable to complete his imperial mission, and the deep-seated attachment to Debbie, Mark, and this family have all coalesced into a devastating rage.

Driven by extreme emotions, the intelligent particles in the Witrum man's genes were running wildly, constantly strengthening his physical functions and resistance. The murderous aura surging around him almost tore the alloy wall apart.

Before anyone could react, his clenched iron fist, accompanied by a deafening sonic boom, hurtled straight towards Immortal's face. The speed of this punch was so extreme that even Red Speed, known for its speed, couldn't catch the trajectory of the fist.

But at this critical moment of life and death, a red and yellow figure suddenly rushed out of the shadows, carrying the same sharp force of breaking through the air, and punched Nolan hard in the side of his face.

Wearing the invincible young hero's battle suit that Nolan had recently tailored for him with Old Ma from a parallel world, Xiao Ma punched the enraged Nolan, sending him flying and smashing through the several-meter-thick alloy wall behind him, completely stopping this deadly sneak attack.

Gravel slid down from the cracked alloy wall, and Nolan staggered to steady himself, the steel plate on his back still crackling with sparks from the impact.

He abruptly turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with broken teeth. He looked up at his son, who was standing between him and the Immortal, and the raging rage in his eyes instantly faded, leaving only shock and unconcealed panic.

"Mark—I—no, it's not what you see, you don't understand—" His voice trembled for the first time, and his explanation was incoherent. The fierceness and murderous intent he had shown when facing the guards crumbled completely when he met his son's complex gaze.

Little Ma stood there, his red and yellow battle suit still catching the wind as it swept through the air. Amidst the bewildered gazes of the Global Guardians, his eyes churned with sadness and disappointment, yet also with a composure and determination beyond his years.

He looked at his father and spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice low but resolute: "I know, Dad. I know everything. So, I have to stop you."

Meanwhile, in the underground base beneath Grayson's garage, Locke finally breathed a sigh of relief after watching the instrument, which had been analyzing data for half a month, finally produce its results.

"It's alright, it's alright."