Chapter 275: Mother of All Beings and the Streetlamp

What happened at the Violet Estate was merely a minor episode for Lu Yan.

Under normal circumstances, the greatest obstacle to the formation of a Union would have come from the nouveau nobles and capitalists.

Before the workers could truly unite, those groups still held absolute advantage. It would take a long process of evolution for the Union’s full potential to manifest.

But Lu Yan didn’t have the time or patience to play a game of cat and mouse with petty nobles and capitalists.

So, he simply used Heaven-Altering Providence to rewrite everyone’s perceptions—subtly implanting subconscious approval of the trade he had proposed, thereby accelerating the formation of the Union.

From a sociological standpoint, this approach was undoubtedly radical.

Workers who had never experienced struggle were suddenly granted their proper rights. Without changing the root of their thinking, it was bound to sow trouble down the line.

But if someone who wielded overwhelming power still hesitated and tiptoed around societal progress, clinging to notions of “organic evolution,” wouldn’t that be laughable hypocrisy?

After all, this was a supernatural world—where power ruled everything.

If Lu Yan truly possessed power equal to this world’s sole existence, then providing protection for every worker and shutting down every brothel would only take a single thought.

Over-relying on the idea of gradual evolution while ignoring one’s own power would just be swapping one extreme for another.

Having completed the evening’s dealings, Lu Yan didn’t linger.

He declined the invitations of nobles and supernaturals alike, then quietly departed the estate and boarded his carriage home.

Sitting within the carriage, he gazed at the dim lights outside, sinking into thought.

The supernatural banquet at the Violet Estate had ended perfectly. Lu Yan had achieved everything he set out to do.

The only unexpected element had been Baron Welton and the Saint behind him.

After killing the Sequence Four Saint, Lu Yan had read Baron Welton’s memories and pieced together the truth.

Baron Welton was part of the nouveau nobility—his family lacked the heritage and strength to come into contact with a Sequence Four Saint under normal circumstances.

The first time he encountered the Saint was because of his son, who had stepped onto the path of the supernatural.

Welton’s son was a Sequence Eight supernatural. At a private gathering, he caught the eye of the Saint due to his extravagant spending.

The Saint approached of his own accord and accepted the young man as a disciple. Then, leveraging the Welton family’s influence, he began to greedily hoard supernatural resources.

Naturally, the Weltons were thrilled to attach themselves to such a powerful backer. They granted his every request.

Just a few months ago, the Saint claimed he needed a ritual involving a large number of living humans—and Baron Welton complied without hesitation.

To meet this request, the family blew up one of their coal mines, burying three hundred workers alive. They staged it as an unfortunate accident.

After a perfunctory and fruitless rescue operation, Baron Welton symbolically compensated each of the victims’ families with five gold pounds.

In return, Welton received a Secret Transmission Talisman, allowing him to contact the Saint directly when needed.

At the supernatural banquet that evening, Baron Welton had used the talisman to inform the Saint that Lu Yan had unveiled a vast number of spatial items—triggering the Saint’s surveillance.

“It seems the value of spatial artifacts in the Mystery Version is even greater than I expected,” Lu Yan thought quietly.

“Also, the city of Orlank appears to have extremely tight surveillance over supernatural powers at Sequence Four and above.

“When I struck down the Saint, even the minuscule ripple of power that escaped drew the cathedral’s attention.

“If I hadn’t erased everyone’s memories in time, those eyes might have truly caught a trace of me.”

Lu Yan recalled the pair of eyes from the heavens. Their level of power wasn’t high, but they carried a strange rule-based aura.

If it weren’t for the overpowering Heaven-Altering Providence, he might have been trapped by that rule.

“Could that be Orlank’s sealing artifact?”

His thoughts wandered as his gaze drifted back toward the Violet Estate.

Now that Lu Yan, the heart of the banquet, had left, the rest of the nobles and supernaturals lost their desire to stay.

Lu Yan had shaken them too deeply—especially the supernaturals, who couldn’t wait to return and test the capabilities of their Storage Pouches.

The banquet wound down. The glow of the chandeliers faded, and richly dressed guests began to file out of the estate.

Servants swiftly arrived to escort them, and one lavish carriage after another rolled off into the night.

Among the many departing guests, Baron Welton was thoroughly unremarkable.

Sitting in his dark carriage, his figure appeared lonely and weary beneath the dim lights.

He should’ve been pleased—after all, he had made a deal with a Saint. Yet he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him.

Several times, his hand moved subconsciously toward the Transmission Talisman hidden in his coat—his only link to the secretive Saint.

Yet every time, just before touching it, he inexplicably stopped—as though some unseen force were restraining him.

His subconscious warned him: Do not ask.

The carriage rumbled along, past the bustling central district and lively shopping streets, eventually arriving at a grand estate.

Massive stone lions guarded the gates, and towering spires loomed like giants in the night.

As Baron Welton stepped down, a butler in formal tailcoat approached and bowed respectfully.

“Where is Clio?” Welton asked coldly.

“Young Master is… currently receiving instruction,” the butler replied hesitantly.

Welton’s expression softened slightly. A trace of pride crossed his face as he strode toward a tall tower on the western end of the estate—separate from the main building.

This was the Mystic Tower, which Baron Welton had spent a fortune to build. Its materials could block supernatural fluctuations.

Clio lived here, practicing supernatural spells and studying forbidden knowledge. Every time the Saint descended, this was where he taught.

Clio possessed excellent supernatural aptitude. At just nineteen, he had already reached Sequence Eight.

Even if he couldn’t reach Sequence Four and become a Saint, breaking into Sequence Five would be enough to elevate the Welton family.

Baron Welton had poured the family’s wealth into supporting Clio. Most of his deals with the Saint were for his son’s sake.

Otherwise, he would never have risked everything to please a Saint who refused to reveal his true identity.

But as he approached the building, he heard gasps and moans from within.

His face instantly darkened.

With a furious kick, Baron Welton kicked open the door and roared, “You damned fool! I built this Mystic Tower for your studies—not your pleasure!”

The scene before him ignited his rage.

Two voluptuous maids and two handsome manservants stumbled out, hastily dressing and bowing their heads in shame.

And his “pride”—Clio—sat in a white bathrobe on the couch, wearing a helpless expression.

He didn’t even seem flustered by being caught.

“The butler said you were learning from the Saint—yet this is how you repay me?!” Baron Welton thundered, his voice shaking with fury.

Clio blinked in confusion. “I was learning from the teacher. But this afternoon, he got a message from you and immediately left to find you. I was bored, so I sought some… entertainment. You should know this.”

The words hit Baron Welton like a bolt of lightning.

His face turned pale.

“I never contacted the Saint…” he muttered. “I was at the banquet all afternoon. When did I send any message?”

His hand flew to his coat, reaching for the Transmission Talisman.

The moment his fingers touched it, a bone-chilling cold spread through his body.

The talisman—etched with forbidden runes—was covered in cracks, as though crushed by some unseen force.

And he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

At that instant, the lights dimmed.

The bright crystal chandelier turned dull. The wall sconces extinguished. Only the fireplace remained lit, casting flickering shadows.

From within those shadows, a man in black formal wear emerged, cane in hand—like a ghost from the abyss.

It was Lu Yan.

He stood beside the fire, the glow illuminating his handsome features. His deep black eyes calmly surveyed the room—like a god judging mortals.

Baron Welton and Clio froze, overwhelmed by an indescribable fear. It felt as though a wild beast had locked onto them—they couldn’t even breathe properly.

“Who… who are you?!”

Clio, a Sequence Eight supernatural, managed to break free of the fear and shouted.

He tried to remain calm, but the tremble in his voice gave him away. Firelight danced across his young face, revealing the fear in his eyes.

“This is the Welton Estate! My teacher is a Sequence Four Saint! If you leave now, there’s still time.”

He slowly backed toward the spellcasting table, his movements casual but purposeful.

With a subtle motion, he grabbed the Emergency Talisman from the table—designed to contact their teacher instantly.

The cold stone offered him a fleeting sense of safety.

Clio turned to reassure his father—but froze.

Baron Welton wasn’t angry. He wasn’t wary. He was terrified.

His face had gone ashen. He stared at Lu Yan like he had seen a ghost.

“You… it’s you…”

Baron Welton stumbled back, his body trembling. “It has to be you! What… what did you do?!”

Lu Yan ignored the two panicking men.

His gaze turned toward the Mystic Tower.

A place like this, constructed with such costly materials, was far beyond what a Sequence Eight deserved.

Peering through the protective barrier, Lu Yan clearly saw the lab hidden in the tower.

Beakers, experiment logs, and grotesque flesh-creatures filled the space—things the Weltons could never have touched.

“That Saint likely attached himself to the Weltons not just for resources—but also to seize this tower for his experiments.”

Lu Yan took a step forward.

The protective barrier shattered like glass.

He entered the lab and casually picked up a report labeled:

“Flesh Thrall Modification Ritual No. 337.”

“Flesh Thralls?”

Lu Yan raised an eyebrow.

He had heard of them.

Flesh Thralls were creatures born of life-path supernaturals losing control.

And the Path of Life was the core supernatural path of the heretical Mother of All Beings cult.

The Saint he had crushed earlier hadn’t even had a chance to reveal his abilities.

Lu Yan had no idea the man was a Saint from the Mother of All Beings cult.

“A pleasant surprise.”

Sweeping his arm, Lu Yan packed up all the documents and equipment.

As for the disgusting flesh-thralls—they were vaporized on the spot. Not a trace remained.

The documents were valuable for reference. The Path of Life was one of the complete supernatural paths in this world.

For someone like Lu Yan, preparing to create a new path, it held immense value.

As for those flesh-creations?

Worthless.

Heaven-Altering Providence could conjure life from nothing. If Lu Yan wanted to, he could create mortal life forms at will.

Why bother studying Flesh Thralls?

He stepped out of the lab.

Baron Welton and Clio were still frozen in place—too scared to run.

Baron Welton instantly dropped to his knees, begging:

“Please, my Lord Saint, have mer—”

Lu Yan didn’t even glance at him.

He raised a finger. Their memories and cognition were rewritten.

If not for the fact that Welton had just attended a major banquet, his sudden death would cause suspicion.

Otherwise, Lu Yan would’ve wiped him out without a second thought.

But for now—he had a different fate in store for them.

Two days later, while inspecting a mining site, the Weltons were exposed for orchestrating the sacrificial explosion that killed three hundred workers.

The enraged workers stormed the site, beat the father and son to death along with several family leaders, and hung their corpses from streetlamps.

Ordinarily, the murder of nobles by workers would have sparked furious backlash from the Noble Council—triggering widespread crackdowns.

But this time, the killings involved human sacrifice, and the investigation pointed toward the Mother of All Beings cult.

The nobles feared the Church of Steam would discover the truth—leading to conflict between the Church and nobility.

So even though the Noble Council was reluctant, they gritted their teeth and buried the incident.

Everyone was satisfied with the outcome.

Everyone except the bodies swaying beneath the streetlamps.

(End of Chapter)