For a moment, Huai Shi wanted to sneer and shout, "This is an illusion! What are you trying to hide?" But it wasn't.
Within Heaven, the Book of Destiny served as a catalog and index, a key and terminal. Its authority was unquestionably supreme. No trick could possibly deceive Huai Shi.
Besides, even without the Book of Destiny, he could sense the reality before him. It was just too real.
Which was precisely why... this was so awkward.
Of all things, why did they have to arrange a surprise?
An ambush right at the door.
They hadn't managed to kill him, yet they had exposed their own hand instead.
Fortunately, Huai Shi didn't need to put on an act.
Once he realized what had happened, Oton lowered his head, picked his head up from the floor, and put it back on. It fit seamlessly, without the slightest sign of injury.
He patted Huai Shi's shoulder and sighed helplessly.
"Your reaction was a little too fast..."
Cheers of excitement rose alongside helpless boos.
Among the crowd, only Marcus happily wheeled himself through them, holding out his hand one by one. The people beside him who had bet wrong could only helplessly pull sheets of paper from their pockets and slap them into his hand.
They piled up into a thick stack.
At last, he divided them in two and offered half to Huai Shi.
They were all precious record materials.
"Your share."
Marcus smiled smugly. "I told them long ago not to do this. They just wouldn't listen."
Back when they had first met, the old man in the wheelchair had always been drowsy and taciturn most of the time, occasionally falling into fanaticism—rebuilding Utopia on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, then burning Golden Dawn to ashes on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays...