Chapter Thirty-Two: Ambition and Fury (Part One)

At no moment had Zhao Li ever craved power so desperately. The first half of the old warden’s sentence gave him a glimmer of hope, but the latter half utterly crushed his self-esteem beneath its heel.

Today I am pleased, so I grant you charity—the old warden could certainly say such words, perhaps that was exactly what he thought, and precisely what he did. Originally, Zhao Li’s intent had been purely to seek his help, but now, a radical transformation had taken place within him.

This world was so ruthlessly pragmatic that not even someone as formidable as the old warden was immune to its customs. It was all because Zhao Li was nothing—merely someone dispatched here to serve as a negligible pawn, replacing the need for silencing by murder.

For the first time, Zhao Li regretted having fled from the Academy of Geniuses. Had it not been for his own fear and evasion, he would now be counted among their ranks.

He knew little else, but the treatment of students at the Academy was well understood. At the very least, entering the Academy guaranteed a life free from want, sustained by government and military support. The price was simply to study diligently the strongest and finest techniques, to fulfill periodic obligations such as medical examinations.

And at the Academy, he would never encounter such matters as this. The military’s upper ranks protected Christine so fiercely, it was clear how they regarded their students.

If Zhao Li were a student at the Academy, were his parents to face trouble, some faction within the military would promptly step forward, unwaveringly stand by him, and resolve every difficulty. How could he end up as he was now, unable even to learn of his parents’ condition, forced to humbly beg for the warden’s charity?

“Go to your dormitory and wait. Do not leave. When there is news, I will inform you.” The old warden’s words were commands, cold and unyielding. Gone was the initial promise: “You are under my command, I won’t let you suffer.”

As Zhao Li’s figure vanished and the metal door slammed shut, the old warden’s face revealed a faint smile. “Even a docile child can feel anger—an excellent sign.”

He reached to open his mailbox; a message from the lieutenant general awaited him. Upon opening it, he found the investigation into Zhao Li’s parents.

Every letter in the prison must be scrutinized, and Zhao Li’s was no exception. The moment Zhao Li arrived to report at the prison, that email had already appeared in the warden’s inbox. By the time Zhao Li saw it, the old warden had arranged for connections to assist in tracking down the matter.

There was no way Zhao Li, in his rage, could realize that the lieutenant general’s report concerned precisely these inquiries. Even if he knew, he would never believe it: could a colonel so casually instruct a lieutenant general to investigate the family of a mere sergeant? Had military intelligence grown so redundant as to be squandered thus?

Gazing at the contents of the report, the old warden’s eyelids did not so much as twitch. “So that’s the reason for his urgency.” Stroking his beard, he pondered, brow furrowed. “Better not resolve it just yet. This is a fine opportunity—to see if he still has any fire left.”

Zhao Li had no idea how he returned to his dormitory. He only felt as though a raging inferno burned in his chest, no matter how he tried to channel his energy, it would not subside, but instead grew ever more fierce.

The more the flames burned, the more unsettled his chest became, as though all his cultivated energy was being consumed by an invisible fire, leaving him unable to breathe. He yearned to cry out to the heavens, but found his throat blocked, unable to utter a sound.

He had thought all his actions before had been right, yet now, faced with a trivial incident, he could not obtain even the smallest help. His life’s convictions seemed shattered in an instant, the persistence once rooted in his mind collapsing into a heap of broken walls.

The old warden’s attitude had deeply shaken Zhao Li, but his privileges and power had provoked an even greater stir within him. If only he held such authority, he could enjoy a life like that, adopt such demeanor. Anything could be accomplished by others, errands run for him. In his leisure, he could decide whether to bestow charity upon a nobody, according to his mood—surely a pleasant sensation.

A true man should live thus; such a life is within reach! These two sentences seemed to have been spinning in Zhao Li’s mind since a moment ago, unable to be stilled. Savoring their meaning, his eyes shone like two black, gleaming pearls. Even his forehead seemed to emit a faint glow in the darkness of the dormitory.

“Sergeant, intelligence concerning your parents has been found in your mailbox. You may review it.” The old warden’s voice came through the speaker, rousing Zhao Li from his strange reverie.

He checked the time, realizing three hours had passed. In such a brief span, the old warden had gathered information—clearly, this intelligence network was not simple.

Eager to know his parents’ fate, Zhao Li opened the email and read carefully. The investigation was thorough, covering every aspect, sparing him much worry.

The matter was simple: Zhao Li’s father, returning from work, had not taken public transport that day and was struck by a magnet-powered vehicle, suffering serious injuries. Yet, with timely medical intervention and his father’s own cultivation of seventh-level techniques, he quickly stabilized. No grave issues remained, only the need for a period of recuperation in the hospital. This explained why his mother’s letter had claimed it was not severe—she feared Zhao Li would be unable to serve peacefully in the military.

The perpetrator was responsible, not only bringing Zhao Li’s father to the hospital but also covering part of the medical expenses. The traffic authorities concluded Zhao Li’s father had violated regulations, leading to the accident. The media lavished praise upon the driver.

However, this was only what the public could see; military intelligence delved deeper, attaching all internal details to the email.

In truth, the real culprit was the “benevolent” driver. The actual situation was that he had been driving drunk that day, lost control, and injured Zhao Li’s father.

But the driver was a renowned politician—an administrative chief of a key local department. Thus, the entire case was swiftly rewritten to match the narrative presented by the media.

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Second update, striving for the rankings, seeking your votes of recommendation—thank you all!