Great Unpredictables can single-handedly destroy an entire nation—

  Forgive me for the sheer disbelief that hit me when I heard those words. Coming from Zhu Shi’s mouth, it sounded like something straight out of the most absurd street-stall conspiracy literature—like an official government spokesperson casually admitting that the five permanent members of the UN Security Council are all puppets on strings controlled by the Rothschild family.

  Then I snapped back to reality.

  “What scale of ‘nation’ are we talking about here?” I asked. “Small African countries? Or ancient states before industrial civilization?”

  “The very country we’re standing in right now.” Zhu Shi pointed at the ground beneath our feet.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Completely serious.” She paused, thinking it over, then added, “That said, I’ve never personally witnessed a Great Unpredictable fighting at full strength. At least based on everything I’ve studied, they are capable of doing exactly that.

  “Throughout history, Great Unpredictables have summoned tsunamis and floods, triggered earthquakes and droughts, and unleashed all kinds of other natural disasters—typhoons and the like. When they get serious, the scale of destruction is large enough to be recorded in the annals of history.

  “Even concentrated nuclear strikes can’t kill them. Either they possess defenses that transcend ordinary logic, or they have an immortality that allows them to rise again even if both body and soul are completely annihilated.

  “Some of the gods in myths and legends that have survived to this day actually originated as prototypes of Great Unpredictables who once ravaged the land—or brought blessings to entire regions.”

  Summoning tsunamis and earthquakes, floods and droughts…

  I had no way of knowing whether Zhu Shi was telling the truth. She certainly wouldn’t lie to me, but were those historical records reliable? I don’t know much about natural disasters, but I at least understand some basic facts. For an earthquake to leave a lasting mark in history, its energy release has to start at hundreds or thousands of times the yield of the Hiroshima bomb.

  The same goes for tsunamis or typhoons. Nuclear weapons may be hailed as the ultimate weapon of modern civilization, the cornerstone that keeps great powers in check and maintains a fragile peace—but when compared to the total energy of a truly massive natural disaster, they still fall far short.

  It would make perfect sense for Great Unpredictables capable of commanding such cataclysms to have no fear of nuclear weapons.

  But that only deepened the confusion. If they could do something like that, why were Great Unpredictables still nominally obedient to the state?

  Or to put it more bluntly—if these people already wielded power on the level of heavenly might, why bother establishing Luoshan at all? Why not just found their own heavenly court?

  Why did they quietly operate in the shadows of the world, dealing with dangers and anomalies, instead of stepping into the open and ruling everything?

  And most fundamentally—if our country had people who could, in the literal sense, move heaven and earth, why had history still been filled with all those humiliating twists and turns?

  I threw every single one of these questions at Zhu Shi.

  She responded with a helpless expression. “I can’t answer you.”

  “Is this one of Luoshan’s secrets?” I pressed.

  “No, it’s not like that… In fact, it’s the opposite. Among us, this is common knowledge—openly acknowledged.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “The reason I can’t answer isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s that I—and every demon hunter I know—simply don’t know the reason.”

  I grew even more puzzled. “You’re saying even Luoshan itself doesn’t know why it does what it does?”

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “Why not reveal the existence of demon hunters and anomalies to ordinary society? Why not seize control of the country? We don’t know the fundamental reason we haven’t done those things.”

  “Then—if we set aside the organization’s stance and speak purely from your personal perspective—what do you think is the reason you choose to live this way?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Because everyone around me does it, so I just went along with it.” Her answer was straightforward. “I don’t have any desire to dominate others, and I’m not chasing fame or glory. As long as I can protect innocent people, that’s enough for me.”

  “This…” I felt like I was being enveloped in a thickening fog. “At the very least, the top leadership of Luoshan must know why they’re doing this, right? The Great Unpredictables are hiding their true intentions from everyone else and forcing you all to follow along. Over time, you just got used to it… Is that how it is?”

  This time, her words plunged me even deeper into confusion: “No. The Great Unpredictables don’t know the truth either.”

  “How can you be sure whether the Great Unpredictables know the truth or not?”

  “Because for the past three years, the Great Unpredictables have been in open conflict over exactly this issue.” She continued, “Do you remember what I told you the night before last? Luoshan is currently in chaos and division. Everyone is gradually realizing that what they’ve been doing isn’t as self-evident as they once thought. They’re realizing they could reveal their true nature to society. They could become the rulers of this country. They could even try to achieve far more.”

  “Your description makes it sound like every demon hunter in history has been under some inexplicable hypnosis, and now—for some unknown reason—the hypnosis has finally worn off.” I couldn’t help but complain.

  She neither confirmed nor denied it. “‘The hypnosis hypothesis’ is actually quite popular within Luoshan. The only problem is that it’s hard to imagine every Great Unpredictable throughout history—and even now—being under the same spell.”

  I had only thrown that out as a half-joking remark. I hadn’t expected her not to firmly reject it.

  So that was it. No wonder, when I asked her before why Luoshan hid the truth about anomalies from the public, she had been so evasive. She genuinely didn’t know how to explain it.

  “Wait—you said this chaos has been going on for the past three years…” I carefully turned her words over in my mind. “Why has it dragged on for three whole years without resolution? Can’t the Great Unpredictables just conquer the country easily?”

  Forget just this country—if no foreign supernatural organization of equal scale existed, Great Unpredictables capable of commanding massive natural disasters could conquer the world with ease.

  Perhaps I had touched on something critical. Zhu Shi’s expression suddenly became extremely serious.

  “Before I answer that question, Z—I’d like to ask you something first.”

  Seeing her tone, I focused completely, ready to treat her question with the gravity it deserved.

  She waited until I had mentally prepared myself before asking:

  “How do you view the world as it is now?

  “How do you view espers like yourself, and ordinary people without abilities?

  “Do you believe espers are inherently superior to ordinary people? Do you think you should become the ruler of the world—making those without power submit to you, treating you as a lofty god?”

  The moment I heard those words, I instantly understood exactly what kind of chaos was tearing Luoshan apart right now.

  What she had just thrown at me was clearly a question of stance.

  Within Luoshan, there were—at least for the time being—two irreconcilable factions. One side believed demon hunters should stand above humanity as living gods, ruling over all. The other side believed demon hunters should reintegrate into existing society in some relatively peaceful way.

  Given Zhu Shi’s personality, her position was almost certainly the latter. And since I wanted to join Luoshan through her, I should give the answer she wanted to hear. In other words—this was a political alignment. I had to take it seriously.

  I opened my mouth, about to tell the lie she would prefer…

  But out of nowhere, I felt an overwhelming disgust at the idea of giving such a politically calculated response. So I threw caution aside and spoke the plain truth.

  “Yes. I believe espers are superior to ordinary people.”

  It wasn’t something I said on impulse.

  Ever since I awakened my ability and gradually grew stronger, I had repeatedly thought about what attitude I should take toward my relationship with society if my power never left me. Specifically—could I consider myself superior to ordinary people?

  The answer was yes. I am an esper. I possess violence far beyond that of ordinary people. I am superior.

  In the past, when people around me gossiped or said nasty things about me, I never used my ability to retaliate—not just because I couldn’t be bothered, but perhaps also because I knew I could kill them anytime I wanted. Precisely because I stood on such an overwhelming height of power, I could afford to look down on them with unusual tolerance.

  For a while, I even tried imitating the aloof, transcendent powerhouses from xianxia novels—speaking in faint, detached tones, carrying myself with an air of indifference toward life and death.

  But I kept forgetting the persona I had set for myself. Whenever someone nearby told a joke or did something funny, I couldn’t help laughing out loud. Eventually, I just thought, “Forget it.” Even if I really had the power to lord over others, I wasn’t particularly drawn to that kind of life.

  At the same time, while reaching the conclusion that “espers are superior,” I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.

  Of course—if another esper appeared before me and, purely on the basis of his power, declared himself superior to ordinary people, I would acknowledge it. Violence matters. Human history is the history of contests of violence. From ancient times, those who hold the greatest violence have claimed legitimacy. No weapon of criticism can match the criticism of weapons.

  But honestly… that kind of approach always felt a little low-class to me.

  Or, in today’s popular terms—it lacks “aura.” Sure, violence can force everyone to bow their heads and admit your superiority. It can eliminate anyone who refuses. But that only wins lip service. I think someone who is truly nobler than ordinary people should possess a kind of persuasiveness that wins hearts as well. Not just physical superiority—ideally, there should be taste and quality on the level of thought and character too.

  I told Zhu Shi all of this as well.

  The more she listened, the quieter she became. Finally, she spoke her thoughts:

  “…Overall, you still believe espers are superior to ordinary people… right?”

  “Broadly speaking, yes,” I admitted.

  “Then why did you become friends with my brother?” she asked. “Isn’t he also one of those ‘ordinary humans beneath you’ in your mind?”