Hand Of God

Chapter 70 Strength is everything

It was *fun* watching elite superhumans take hits they could’ve easily avoided—just because they refused to risk civilian lives.

But now?

Out of nowhere, a phantom would drop from the sky—no warning, no hesitation—and execute them mid-attack.

Adam’s *Hearing of Everything* pinpointed every Acolyte with chilling accuracy. One strike, one kill.

He turned the chaotic skirmish into a bloodbath of precision and dread.

Meanwhile, the department heads—having received Adam’s earlier warning—had already adjusted tactics.

New orders echoed across channels:

> “Non-lethal restraint where possible—but prioritize your own survival.”

> “Your life comes first. Always.”

Forced into the open, Acolytes began herding possessed civilians into tighter clusters—abandoning subtlety altogether. They started launching direct assaults, using human shields as cover.

And still—nowhere was President Thomas.

He remained secluded in his private spatial domain, deep in conversation with Serena… for *hours*.

Yeah. That wasn’t just hands-off leadership.

It was outright dereliction of duty.

At that moment, Thomas sat hunched in his chair, eyes closed, sweat beading on his brow.

In his hands, a spectral book slowly coalesced—its form growing denser, heavier, until it shimmered with tangible reality.

He looked frail, almost broken—no trace of the legendary figure who once stood alone against Rampant-class Deities. Instead, he seemed like a man at the very edge of his years, worn thin by time and grief.

Across from him, Serena watched in silence.

Her initial wariness and awe had softened over the past hours. Now, her gaze held something gentler—familiarity, even pity.

She hadn’t known President Thomas well. From what little she’d seen, he was a cunning, powerful old fox—ruthless, calculating, always three steps ahead.

But for the last few hours, he hadn’t offered grand wisdom, secret cultivation techniques, or ideological indoctrination.

Instead, he’d spoken like a lonely elder—rambling about memories no one else cared to hear, stories buried under decades of silence.

And Serena hadn’t interrupted once. She’d listened—quietly, patiently—to every word.

Thomas was nearly seventy. In his youth, he’d been the most gifted superhuman of his generation. His power was unlike any recorded in human history.

He was widely believed to be the first person who might break through to Level-9—the mythical pinnacle of human potential.

But fate had other plans.

At the height of his glory, Acolytes struck in retaliation—slaughtering his wife and daughter before his eyes.

That tragedy shattered him. Yet instead of crumbling, he hardened—his grief twisting into cold fury, his power surging with terrifying speed.

By the time he became the youngest Level-7 superhuman in history, he took his first direct disciple.

To that student, he gave everything—every technique, every insight—but with brutal, almost inhuman discipline.

The deaths of his family haunted him: *Without power, you can’t even control your own life—let alone protect those you love.*

So he embraced one creed above all: **Strength is everything.**

Even though he adored his disciple, he never showed it. He feared kindness would breed complacency. So while he sang the boy’s praises to the world, he never uttered a single word of approval to his face.

Under such extreme pressure, the disciple’s strength soared—but so did his arrogance. He grew disdainful of his peers, convinced they were weak.

Predictably, the Acolytes targeted him.

Two Rampant-class Deity projections ambushed him—and left behind not even ashes.

After that, Thomas vanished from the world entirely.

When he reemerged years later, he was the white-bearded, ever-smiling figure everyone now knew—the gentle “Santa Claus” of Orienta University.

But his cultivation had stagnated at Level-7. He never advanced another inch.

As President of Orienta University, he later took in a gifted orphan girl—his second direct disciple, Sissi.

She’d known no love in her short life. He’d lost everyone he ever loved.

Together, they filled each other’s voids—father and daughter in all but blood.

This time, Thomas let go of his old obsession. He encouraged her to train, yes—but never forced her. All he wanted was for her to grow up happy, whole, and free.

But again… fate refused to grant peace.

Now, Serena—his final disciple—had become, in his heart, his last chance at redemption.

“There,” Thomas said softly as the light around the book faded. He held it out to her. “Take it.”

He smiled, though the lines on his face deepened with exhaustion.

“I’m a failure. In my youth, I couldn’t protect my wife and child. In middle age, I lost my first disciple. And now, in old age, I don’t even know how to raise a student properly.”

“All these years… I’ve achieved nothing. My character is flawed, my strength stagnant. That’s why I was afraid to teach you—I didn’t want to ruin another life.”

His voice cracked. Serena’s nose stung, but she didn’t know what to say.

“But… there’s no one else who can guide you. Your true power—what I call Ninefold Primordial Phoenix—is unlike anything else.”

“Nine times reborn in flame. Nine times risen from ashes. Only then will you become the world’s one and only Phoenix.”

“I can’t give you a path to success… but I’ve got plenty of lessons from failure. I’ve already shared them all with you.”

“Remember this: push your limits—but never let your hunger for power consume you. That path leads only to ruin. I walked it. So did your senior disciple.”

“This book… it’s empty. But when you read it, it will reflect *your* heart. A thousand people would see a thousand different things within it.”

Having said all he needed to, Thomas exhaled as if a great weight had lifted. He grinned—genuine, warm.

“Kid, did you know? Fifty years ago, there wasn’t a single Level-9 superhuman in the world. Can you guess how many there are now?”

“I… I don’t know,” Serena murmured.

Thomas’s next words struck like thunder:

“Still none.”

“Not one person in all of history has ever reached the rank of Saint.”

“Nine is the ultimate number—and the ultimate prison. I was once seen as the one who might break through… but I became a broken man. Now? I believe *you* can do it.”

He beamed at her. “You’re strong. I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” Serena said softly, bowing her head. “But I disagree with one thing.”

“I don’t think you’re a failure. Or worthless.”

“I don’t think any of it was your fault… Master.”

The words hit Thomas like a spark in dry tinder.

For the first time in decades, something flickered to life in his hollowed-out soul.

“Hahahaha! Good… good… thank you.” His laughter was thick with emotion. “At the end of my days, someone still listens to this old man’s rambling—and even comforts him.”

“But alas… I am broken. I failed to protect everyone I loved. And now? I can’t even safeguard my own university.”

He gestured outward, dissolving the private spatial domain.

Reality snapped back.

In an instant, Thomas’s presence transformed. The frail elder vanished—replaced by a titan of will and power.

Golden energy erupted from his body like coiling dragons, roaring with primordial force.

Before Serena could react, he shot skyward.

From his core, a colossal golden dome expanded at light-speed—engulfing all of Orienta University in a radiant shield.

Arms raised, he held up the sky itself, anchoring the barrier that now protected every student, every building, every life within.

Raw, divine-level energy pulsed outward—terrifying, majestic, like the wrath of heaven made manifest.

“Acolyte scum!” Thomas’s voice boomed across the campus, shaking the earth.

“I may be broken… but I’m not dead yet!”