The Mahatma, Kira Wolma

"Those worthless fools fortunate enough to catch your eye are no longer truly rotten wood. You possess the power to turn decay into the miraculous, igniting a flash of wonder in the dull lives of ordinary humans."

"Current Main Quest 3 completion progress: 15/30."

After blowing out the text bubble, Black and White Dumpling quietly slipped away again.

Yan Anqing's brows furrowed slightly before relaxing once more.

One problem had been solved, yet more than a dozen new projects had popped up.

Within the base, his colleagues from the various departments might have vastly different personalities, but all of them were talented people with active minds and wild imaginations. Every time he went to the cafeteria to eat, he came away with quite a few new ideas.

The road of magical modification was long and arduous. At this stage, even Yu Hongyi, the strongest natural human, and Yan Anqing himself were merely at the peak of the first rank.

After thinking for a while, Yan Anqing found a recent photograph of Kira Wolma, the disposable experimental subject, online.

After his pupils focused for a moment, the photograph was saved into his mental database.

He closed his eyes and began studying the changes in Kira Wolma's body...

Great India, Delhi Capital Territory.

This place covered roughly 1,490 square kilometers and had a permanent population of as many as twenty-five million!

On the streets of New Delhi's largest commercial district, Kira Wolma swaggered along like a crab with a group of underlings in tow.

Behind Kira, more than a thousand people carried flags covered in writing and banners painted with illustrations, building momentum for him.

"Kira! The only Mahatma of the twenty-first century!"

"The glory of the Kshatriyas has returned to the world!"

"Nothing can restrain Great India's brilliance and rise!"

Besides slogans like these, there were also some extremely exaggerated comic posters.

The most eye-catching one depicted a cartoon Kira Wolma punching Hulk, stomping Superman Clark Kent beneath his feet, and scaring Spider-Man, Deadpool, and Venom into trembling as they knelt in worship and bowed in submission.

The other promotional banners were much the same. Kira's fans had practically run through every hero in the Marvel and DC universes.

It was over-the-top, yet highly appealing, perfectly hitting the sweet spot for Great India's onlookers.

The parade grew larger and larger. Viewed from above, it resembled a long dragon.

At last, Kira Wolma came to a stop.

He turned around, his voice booming like a great bell. Though he used neither microphone nor loudspeaker, the vast majority of the people in the parade could hear him clearly.

Many raised their phones and pointed cameras at Kira, wanting to see what exactly this man intended to say.

"Three days!"

Kira raised three fingers, his expression resolute. "Three days from now, I will give a speech at Apollo Pier! At the same time, I will show you the true abilities of a Kshatriya Essence Inheritor!"

Apollo Pier had a landmark called India Gate, whose appearance resembled France's Arc de Triomphe.

"I now formally announce that I am immediately joining this Supreme Leader Election!"

"If I am allowed to govern this country, I will spread the glory of this great nation across the entire world!"

"Japan, South Korea, Russia, China, England, France, Germany, America... all of these nations will be able to do nothing but look up to us!"

"Here, I solemnly promise..."

"Everyone! I mean everyone who supports me—not a single person will be left out! I, Kira, will remember every one of your names. Once I achieve my ambitions, I will grant you rewards beyond your wildest dreams!"

"Once I ascend the throne, I will redefine the concept of a 'warrior' and divide them into ranks according to their strength!"

"Wealth! Every Great Indian warrior capable of earning a rank will receive wealth that three generations could never spend!"

"Beautiful women! Under my rule, every male Great Indian citizen may legally marry more than ten beautiful women!"

"As long as you are capable and strong enough, if you see a woman you fancy, forcibly taking her in the street will not be considered wrongful conduct under the laws I revise!"

Kira was quite good at speaking.

He had very successfully made something vile sound dignified, without the slightest trace of filth.

However, judging by the disgusted expressions on the faces of the women in the parade, Kira's standing in their eyes had likely plummeted.

Yet Kira Wolma did not care about those women.

From the very beginning, Kira had made his target audience perfectly clear.

Men—strong men in their prime!

In Great India, women had no rights to speak of.

In this bizarre nation, when a girl was raped, reporters investigating the matter would often find that public opinion largely sympathized with the perpetrator while treating the victim with contempt and disdain.

People generally believed that the victim had dressed too revealingly and been too alluring, which was why she had ended up in that situation. She had brought it upon herself and had no one else to blame.

In such a male-dominated nation, Kira's remarks had quite a market.

At that moment, a dark-skinned, gaunt middle-aged man near the front of the crowd suddenly asked, "Does that include women from both our country and foreign countries?"

"What if other countries demand our extradition, saying that we raped their citizens and want to try us under their laws? What then? Will you protect us?"

Kira Wolma was overjoyed when he heard that, but his face remained impassive.

With a solemn expression, he said, "Of course! I swear upon the honor and glory of the Kshatriya that I will protect every warrior willing to follow me!"

Kira believed he had seen through the future course of this world.

He knew perfectly well that he could not please everyone, so he went all in, attracting only adult men whose brains were ruled by their dicks.

Just look!

How tempting were the promises he had made to any normally developed man?

Want money? He gave money. Want women? He gave women.

Simple and brutal.

Yet highly effective!

Those capable of suppressing their most basic desires were few and far between.

Kira could not even be bothered to consider such people. If he encountered one or two, he would even find ways to snuff them out.

In this nation where everyone was competing to be the least terrible, as long as Kira could win the approval of half the population, he was confident he could use his family's network of connections to seize power bit by bit and eventually climb to the very top!

No matter what kind of uproar or public reaction Kira's propaganda caused, time would not stop for this moment.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Kira had become a true public enemy of Indian women, but his unabashedly chauvinistic remarks had also won him a large number of male fans.

Men loved him; women cursed him.

With the support of his family and the praise of paid online commenters, the name "Mahatma" gradually spread alongside the highly controversial Kira Wolma.

That day, before India Gate at Apollo Pier.

Hundreds of thousands of people swarmed in, while journalists from countries around the world gathered like sharks that had smelled blood.

Camera shutters clicked without pause, and flashes blinded the eye.

Kira Wolma stood arrogantly atop the newly built stage.

With his arms folded across his chest, he struck a pose that screamed, "I'm number one in the world." "I told you before—I'd let you witness the true power of the Kshatriya elite!"

"Now, we'll start with something simple!"

He clapped his hands.

Ten burly men armed to the teeth surrounded Kira Wolma, their pitch-black gun barrels sealing off every possible route of escape...