CHAPTER 28

Lagu Kurman sat in the private box on the third floor of the Twin Towers Arena, overlooking the crowd entering under the scorching sun, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction.

He opened a bottle of 18-year-old aged wine and swirled it in a tall glass. He didn’t drink it, as he thought it would cloud his judgment, but he liked the scent—sandalwood and dried orange peel mixed with berry notes. That was the scent of success, and of money.

"Dad, look! That’s Teacher Toto!" His eight-year-old son clung to the railing, eagerly watching below. "Why don’t we sit down there? Isn’t it easier to see from there?"

"Oh, no, no, no. That’s where the lower-class people sit. You should never be there," Lagu said, stroking his son's head. All the hard work he had put in over the years was for this—to keep those people beneath him.

It was like standing on top of a factory, trampling on those at the bottom who could only sell their labor, too meek to resist.

“It’s the latest Firepower Silver V!” His son pointed to the giant screen where a short promotional film was playing. “I want it! Buy it for me!”

“Sure, no problem. You can have anything you want.”

Lagu spoiled his child—more precisely, he adored his bloodline.

In his mind, he had clawed his way out of poverty, proving the superiority of his lineage, and he had a duty to pass it on. He believed that anyone who inherited his excellent bloodline would achieve even greater success with better resources.

As for the lower-class people with inferior bloodlines—they were meant to be enslaved by them.

If it weren't for his son's love of yoyos, he wouldn't even be here.

Of course, he liked yoyos as well, especially the huge profits from selling counterfeit yoyos.

In his eyes, making counterfeit yoyos was fair game—he had the skill, so he deserved the money. If the Zuo Ge Toy Store couldn’t stop him, that was their problem. They deserved to be taken advantage of.

If anyone dared counterfeit his medicines, they’d be dead without a burial.

That’s what made the lower-class... well, the lower-class.

The screen didn’t only show yoyos; there were also ads for weapons factories, ships...

His intuition told him this was a great business opportunity. He began thinking about how to get his hands on this technology. It was far more difficult than yoyos, but the profits would be much greater.

As long as there was enough benefit, he was willing to do anything.

Suddenly, the sky darkened.

Lagu looked up. It wasn’t clouds blocking the sun—it was a magical black barrier casting a shadow over the arena.

What an impressive display!

He was shocked. If magic could do something like this, it must involve a large group of high-level mages or a legendary mage on-site.

Either way, it was a power he couldn’t afford to provoke.

Then, two lines of text appeared on the screen.

“Saint Mountain Journey”

“Coming Soon”

Is this also a magical film? What does "coming soon" mean? Lagu was full of questions.

The screen lit up, and a train appeared.

Thousands of viewers erupted in excitement. Many recognized it as the “Traveling Train” that had just opened not long ago.

Did it need promotion? Who in the Sutton Kingdom didn’t know about this railway?

Then, the screen showed scenes of life aboard the train: campus clubs on a study trip, a husband taking care of his pregnant wife, a father traveling with his daughter.

When had these been filmed on the train? Shouldn’t the reporters have already exposed this?

Those reporters were like sharks at the smell of blood—they jumped on any story, no matter what it was.

The other viewers in the arena also seemed to believe these scenes were real, occurring on the "Traveling Train."

Some even started bragging about their own train experiences, as if they had been part of it.

Suddenly, the image shifted, showing the process of making medicinal potions.

Lagu was all too familiar with these steps.

When he saw this, he realized that the footage might not be real.

If someone had sneaked into his factory without him knowing and filmed it—well, that would be terrifying.

The screen began switching back and forth between the pharmaceutical process and the train, with the frequency increasing. Rapid drumbeats sounded, making the viewers feel tense, as if something big was about to happen.

“Boom!”

A muffled crash, followed by the sound of a passenger crashing heavily to the ground. The drumbeats stopped abruptly.

The silence brought even more urgency.

Under everyone’s watch, the passenger slowly got up in a strange, unnatural way. When his face was revealed, the entire arena gasped in horror and disbelief.

Pale pupils, bulging veins, dark red bloodstains—this was no longer the face of a living person.

Before the audience could react, the transformed passenger lunged at others. The intense music started again, nearly suffocating everyone with tension.

Images flashed by, beyond anyone’s imagination.

Piles of corpses, rolling waves of zombies, countless undead rising again from the dead...

It was a scene of apocalyptic disaster, like demons invading.

The audience, having never seen such an assault on their senses, couldn’t process it. Screams and cries filled the arena.

Lagu’s son, terrified, collapsed to the ground, staring blankly.

Some people tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the incomprehensible scenes.

“It’s necromancers! It has to be necromancers! It’s all the work of those lunatics! Necromancy should be banned!”

“Definitely demons. Someone must’ve made a deal with them. Now they’re here to collect their dues. No one can escape, no one can!”

Others began praying, seeking divine intervention.

Some even started chanting spells, preparing to cast magic, but were suddenly blocked by some unseen magical force, plunging them into greater panic.

Just as the scene was on the brink of descending into chaos, the sky suddenly brightened. The black barrier disappeared, and sunlight poured back in, dispelling much of the fear.

The footage on the screen reached its conclusion, showing several lines of text.

“How to survive?”

“The final battle for survival!”

“Horrific disaster film ‘Saint Mountain Journey’”

“One week later, don’t miss it.”

“Stay tuned…”

The audience began to quiet down. They realized this was the same type of film as the short yoyo films made by the half-elf, and they quickly began to feel ashamed of their earlier reactions.

Lagu came back to his senses. Even though he had seen many large events, he couldn’t remain calm.

His business instincts told him that the profit potential in this was much greater than he had originally thought.

He had to figure out a way to get his hands on it.

How could these scenes possibly have been created? Even the best illusionists, like Ms. Uman, would probably have trouble pulling it off.

More information appeared on the screen.

“Produced by Zuo Ge Studios”

“Hm?”

Lagu squinted. Zuo Ge Studios? Could it be connected to the Zuo Ge Toy Store?

He had originally been pleased that his medicinal potions were featured in this—it would bring huge attention to his medicine factory.

But now, it seemed less certain.

What could he do about a medicinal potion?

He couldn’t figure it out at the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone waving at him from another box.

Turning to look, he recognized it as Aisha Stone, the toy store owner whom he viewed as someone beneath him, unable to retaliate.

But there she was, smiling and waving at him, her smile full of mockery.

When he looked over, Aisha smiled more widely and drew her thumb slowly across her throat.

A threat. A blatant threat!

But more infuriating than the threat was that Lagu didn’t even know what he should be on guard for.

What did her threat even mean?