Chapter 278: Hostility from the High Nobility, Sequence Three: Living Man-God

The night the union presided over the execution of George, Gioia, and the others was like a bolt of lightning tearing through the long-standing haze over Oranke, finally exposing the deep-rooted conflict between workers and factory owners.

When the first light of dawn illuminated the bodies still hanging from the streetlamps, the entire industrial zone had already been swept by the news. Low murmurs echoed through the factory corridors and alleyways of the slums.

After the banquet at the Violet Manor, Lu Yan had modified perceptions to prompt the capitalists and new nobles to voluntarily make concessions—improving wages and treatment for the workers. As a result, the union’s rise had been remarkably peaceful, avoiding excessive bloodshed.

Even the Welton Mine incident had been attributed by the upper class to cult activity, rather than the workers themselves.

But now, with the exposure of how George and Gioia had conspired to murder dozens of workers for profit, a glimpse of the bloodstained underbelly of the workers’ movement had been revealed.

As the union delved deeper into its investigations, even more horrific crimes were brought to light.

Some factory owners had deliberately withheld safety equipment to cut costs, leading to dozens of deaths in machinery accidents.

Supervisors, under the guise of “training,” had abused child laborers to satisfy their own twisted desires.

Some wealthy men had even lured daughters of worker families into brothels under the pretense of job placements.

None of this had been a true secret. In the old world, most workers had become numb. As long as the abuse didn’t affect them directly, they had no courage to resist.

But after the execution of George and Gioia, a never-before-seen spirit of rebellion was ignited among the working class.

The union expanded rapidly. Within weeks, its membership soared past two hundred thousand.

Under Sain’s leadership, the union was no longer a loose organization—it had become a formidable force, now formally negotiating with factory owners for greater rights.

Those among the factory owners who were particularly cruel and refused any reform were one by one brought to public trials and hung from the lampposts.

Each execution was not blind vengeance, but a structured, public judgment—crimes presented, verdicts delivered.

This approach placed the workers on solid moral ground, earning them sympathy even from neutral citizens.

For the first time, the factory owners were filled with fear.

They began to split into two factions—one chose to cooperate with the union, recognizing the inevitability of change, and started providing workers with necessary protections.

The other refused to part with their profits and turned to government officials and high nobility, seeking their intervention to crush the workers’ movement.

Behind all of this—there was not only the grassroots efforts of the union, but also the near-invisible shadow of Anna.

As a Wandering Spirit, she roamed the factories and slums, entering workers’ dreams to show them hidden truths and replay the trials of the guilty, stirring their courage and desire to resist.

For those who had committed monstrous atrocities, she instilled terror in their dreams, keeping them in a constant state of fear.

Though no ordinary person could see her, her hundreds of dream invasions had led many to begin believing in her presence.

Some even came to see her as a Holy Spirit from the Church of Steam, a savior of mankind.

Meanwhile, more and more low-level transcendents—once workers themselves—began to join the union, even if most were only Sequence Nine or Eight. In the bleak industrial zone, they were already a rare and precious force.

So far, the union had progressed smoothly—but they had only faced minor nobles and factory owners.

As the union’s influence grew, the high nobility began to notice the danger brewing beneath the surface.

An unseen storm was now forming in the Noble Council.

The White family, one of the oldest noble families in the Victoria Kingdom, possessed a thousand-year legacy. The current patriarch, Marquis White, was a staunch royalist and one of the strongest proponents of the industrial revolution, wielding immense influence throughout the kingdom.

In the towering, ancient White Manor, the council hall had already gathered several key nobles.

Each of them held great power in the kingdom’s industrial reform and controlled vast wealth and resources.

Marquis White sat at the head. Though over seventy, the supernatural energy of this world had preserved his appearance at its prime. Only his deep eyes hinted at the years behind them.

His gaze was like a hawk’s, sharp and sweeping across the hall. His voice was cold and commanding.

“I trust you’ve all heard about the chaos in the industrial district.”

Before the echo of his words had faded, Earl Raven, dressed in a deep blue velvet suit, jumped in furiously.

“That so-called union is outrageous. Stirring up unrest in the industrial zone—are they trying to destroy the very reforms we’ve worked so hard to build?”

“Utterly absurd!” another noble shouted, slamming the table. “Without industrial reform, those mudlegs would still be toiling in the dirt, not even knowing where Oranke is on the map.

We gave them jobs, gave them food, and now they want more? Ridiculous!”

The hall rang with indignant voices, filled with generations of arrogance and superiority.

This wasn’t random anger. In a world ruled by transcendents, the shadows of feudalism had governed for tens of thousands of years.

These transcendent nobles, inherited from the feudal era, carried their disdain for ordinary people deep in their bones. Some even believed commoners and nobles were two different species.

In Earth’s industrial revolution, capitalists slowly overthrew the old aristocracy. But here, the new nobles and capitalists had only just earned the right to sit at the same table with the true elite—they were nowhere near ready to change the system.

Thus, the high nobles had no need to adjust their attitudes. They still ruled like gods, wielding life and death over countless ordinary people.

Even in the industrial age, this class divide had not closed in the slightest.

As the nobles fumed, a calm voice broke through their outrage.

Sitting to Marquis White’s right was Marquis Bodley, nearly fifty years old, with short silver hair and sharp eyes.

“Gentlemen, dealing with a bunch of mudlegs isn’t hard. One new decree, one government document, and the union’s finished.”

He tapped the table lightly, lowering his voice.

“What truly matters is the Saint who appeared at the Violet Manor.”

The hall fell silent.

Everyone knew what that meant.

At that banquet, a human Saint had appeared to support the union—earning the backing of many new nobles and capitalists, giving the union a major boost.

That was why the high nobles hadn’t yet made a move.

In the supernatural sequence system, Sequence Five could pledge allegiance to the royal family and be granted noble titles.

But a Sequence Four Saint—now that was someone who could build a family dynasty lasting centuries. They were giants among the transcendent.

Most noble families here had once produced Saints, but those legends had long passed.

Among them, only three families still had living Saints—White being one of them.

Thanks to their loyal support of the royal family during industrial reform, the Whites had been richly rewarded and now had three living Saints.

The gathered nobles turned to Marquis White, awaiting his verdict.

Under their watchful eyes, the marquis finally showed a subtle, knowing smile.

“There’s no need to worry,” he said, rising slowly, his voice like iron. “That Lu Saint who appeared at Violet Manor may be impressive, but the union he supports threatens the kingdom’s entire industrial future.

This is a national strategy set by the royal family itself. What right does one Saint have to interfere?”

The nobles understood instantly.

If this had the crown’s approval, everything made sense.

“I, the Raven family, will support the Whites with all we have!” Earl Raven immediately declared, barely hiding his excitement.

“The Thorn family as well!”

One by one, the nobles pledged allegiance.

Marquis White’s smile deepened.

He leaned forward, lowering his tone even more.

“His Highness has suggested we eliminate the Saint behind the union… then take over its leadership and swallow the new nobles’ and capitalists’ industries.”

The greed in the nobles’ eyes was unmistakable.

The wealth of those new powers already rivaled or exceeded many of the old houses—but nobody had dared touch them.

Now, the moment had come.

“But if we move against the new nobles and capitalists,” one baron said cautiously, “shouldn’t we have a proper pretext, to avoid… complications?”

Marquis White smiled faintly and retrieved a contract from his case, placing it at the center of the table.

“Rest assured. Several weeks ago, the union killed the deputy director of the industrial zone hospital—someone chosen by my White family.

This clearly violates noble law. We have every right to investigate the union. No one can fault us.”

His eyes glinted with confidence.

“As for that Saint… he possesses the method to create a spatial item called the Storage Pouch. He likely has mastery over spatial powers.

The White family will dispatch all three of our Saints to take him down.”

The revelation clicked for everyone.

The Storage Pouch was invaluable. At a banquet, Lu Yan had exchanged over ten of them for transcendent knowledge—shocking the entire supernatural world of Oranke.

If they could control that ability…

Before they could dwell on it, a slow, calm voice echoed through the hall—chilled like moonlight, elusive as wind.

“Three Saints? Quite the extravagance.”

The moonlight outside the window suddenly froze into solid arcs, etching mystical patterns across the marble floor.

A tall figure stepped from the light—each step crossing the line between illusion and reality.

Lu Yan wore formal attire, silver cane in hand, smiling gently as if attending a party.

“The union’s Saint!”

A noble shouted in horror. A teacup slipped, shattering on the ground.

No one had sensed how this Saint bypassed the manor’s many wards or entered this secure chamber unnoticed.

On the throne, Marquis White’s eyes flashed in panic. He crushed the blood-red gem in his ring.

A terrifying aura exploded, pressing down like a mountain.

At the four corners of the hall, space rippled—and three Saints appeared.

Two wore silver-white armor forged from rare transcendent metals. Their every step rang with war drums and clashing steel—the Sequence Four Knight Path: Ironblood Marshal.

The third wore a robe embroidered with star patterns, with white beard and eyes like the cosmos. He raised a hand, summoning starlight to weave an imprisoning net—Sequence Four Star Path: Astral Mage.

The two Ironblood Marshals drew their blades, twin arcs of killing intent slicing through the air.

The Astral Mage chanted strange incantations, filling the ceiling with starry light that formed a deadly cage.

Lu Yan merely smiled.

He raised his cane, tapped the floor, and spoke one word:

“Seal.”

With that divine decree, space itself split apart. A mysterious purple vortex opened—the Gate of Mystery Womb.

Even in this muddled world, even half-formed, the gate’s aura was deeper and more fundamental than the three Saints.

The two Marshals’ attacks froze midair—their blades dimmed.

The Mage’s spell faltered—his starlight faded into dust.

Their powers were utterly sealed.

The Saints’ confidence vanished, replaced by raw terror.

“What… what kind of power is this?”

“Three Sequence Fours, suppressed in a blink?”

Meanwhile, from ten miles away, a new pressure surged from the royal palace—monumental and divine.

A majestic voice crossed space itself:

“Cease!”

It boomed like thunder, a command none could defy.

But Lu Yan only smiled deeper.

He raised his head, looked beyond time and space, and spoke the second decree:

“Perish.”

Reality shattered like glass.

The Gate of Mystery Womb opened wide, unleashing darkness deeper than night, more profound than the void.

The three Saints didn’t even have time to despair—they were snuffed out like candles.

Silence fell over the council hall.

The surviving nobles turned deathly pale. Some collapsed, trembling uncontrollably.

They had just seen legends—three mighty Saints—erased like dust.

Lu Yan paid them no mind.

He looked up, smiling faintly, as if seeing beyond the sky.

Beyond clouds and towers, he sensed a figure racing toward him.

A man in crimson royal robes, surrounded by divine radiance.

A Royal Transcendent.

Sequence Three: Living Man-God!

(End of Chapter)