Chapter Seventy-Three: The Elite of the Hoffman Family

Chapter 73: The Elites of the Hoffman Family

In the days that followed, Xia Zheng could clearly sense the influence of the military and the Shentu family at work. News about the attack on the Hoffman family in Dannute City was gradually being downplayed and diverted. On one hand, news coverage was strictly controlled; on the other, the topic’s remaining popularity was siphoned away by new trending events exposed by various media outlets and prominent figures on social media. As a result, the aftermath of the incident faded quickly, leaving only the Delansol Consortium struggling to keep the subject alive.

Thousands of kilometers away, in a noble estate in the Western Territories, the centuries-old castle echoed with the sound of shattered porcelain and glass from its second-floor hall—someone was clearly in a rage.

The dozen or so key decision-makers of the Hoffman family had already returned to the ancestral estate from various parts of the Western and Southern Territories to deal with this sudden crisis.

By the fireplace, an elderly man with a mane and beard of silvery white—so long and thick they almost merged together—stood gripping a cane, breathing heavily. The debris on the ground attested to his fury. Although his back was slightly hunched, he remained imposing in stature. His eyebrows and temples seemed to bristle together, slanting upwards with an air of arrogance and domination.

“Has the Hoffman family really fallen so low that any stray dog can bully us? The Shentu family and the military dare to shield this man and suppress an old noble house that has bled for the Federation?” the old man roared, smashing more bottles and porcelain on the mantel with his cane.

Seated on sofas and chairs opposite and to the sides of the fireplace were more than a dozen men and women, most of them in their forties and fifties, with a few younger ones in their thirties.

“Father, the military is overreaching! They openly protect Xia Zheng. Why don’t we take the Medal of Merit bestowed by the Federation’s first Marshal and go to the military headquarters in the Imperial Capital to ask those old relics if the Hoffman family is now expected to bow to Xia Zheng?” shouted a man in his fifties, severely overweight, with a receding hairline.

“Richard, enough!” barked another man in his forties, handsome and composed, with chestnut curls and a neatly trimmed mustache. His eyes were noticeably more rational than those around him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Ray?” Richard snapped, his anger flaring at being rebuked by his younger brother, despite being the eldest son.

Ray strode up to Richard, glaring at him. Though Richard was stubborn, he instinctively shrank back, somewhat cowed by his brother.

“Ray, what do you think you’re doing? Have you no respect for your elders?” This came from Richard’s wife, Martha, who was also quite stout. She wore a floral dress that looked rather undignified, though her jewelry sparkled brightly.

Richard, as head of the main branch, had always been at odds with Ray, who represented the third branch. At present, the family patriarch relied most heavily on Ray.

Ray merely snorted, ignoring his foolish and shrewish sister-in-law, and turned instead to his father, Philip. “Father, with the Shentu family and the military clearly intent on suppressing us, it is unwise to escalate the conflict. Otherwise, we’ll be the ones to suffer.”

“So you’re telling us to lie down and take it?” The old man’s beard quivered with rage. In all his life, he’d rarely bowed to anyone, and the present situation was a humiliation beyond bearing.

At once, the siblings opposed to the third branch joined forces to denounce Ray’s weakness and incompetence.

Ray raised his voice, “Father, the military’s aim is to prevent this incident from becoming a spark for conflict between commoners and nobles. They want to keep it confined as a feud among the gifted.”

“Oh? Go on, let’s hear your reasoning,” Philip finally calmed down, sending the still-quarreling women out of the hall, which then fell silent.

He looked at his sons: some were obese, some had wasted away through dissipation, some were muddle-headed, some timid. Only Ray was still worthy of his attention—a realization that filled him with sorrow. No wonder even a commoner dared to bully the family now; there was simply no one fit to succeed him. Of course, he would never admit this was due to his own failures in raising them.

Ray motioned for his brothers to remain calm and seated, then carefully analyzed the situation. This time, the others finally listened.

“Then let’s send an S-class gifted to kill the brat and his entire family,” suggested Oran, the second son.

“Idiot!” Philip hurled a teacup at him. Oran dodged, and the cup shattered on the floor.

Ray was exasperated, but had no choice but to explain, “S-class gifted are under strict regulation by the military and the Federation. Unless it’s a personal vendetta between equals, acting without cause is a crime punishable by law. Besides, with the war at the frontlines of Evernight City intensifying, almost all S-class gifted have been deployed there.”

“But isn’t that kid only recently promoted to B-class? How could he have such combat power, to kill three of our A-class gifted in succession?” asked Paddy, the fourth son—a man of some intelligence, though years of excess had ruined his health.

Ray replied, “You haven’t seen the intelligence and reports the fifth brother sent back. That kid isn’t an ordinary gifted—he’s a psychic.”

“A psychic?” The others gasped. In the Western Territories, that title carried immense weight, for the region’s strongest—Pope Reynolds—was a psychic, vice-president of the Federal Psychics’ Association, and a man who had bested countless opponents before the age of thirty.

“Has that kid joined the Psychics’ Association?” asked the patriarch.

Ray shook his head. “No, Father. Unless someone sponsors them, psychics can only be approached by the Association after reaching S-class. Xia Zheng doesn’t qualify yet.”

“That’s a relief. But it makes it much harder to find someone below S-class to deal with him. Psychics are a special breed among the gifted—their real strength exceeds their rank. My poor grandson Dick, slaughtered by Xia Zheng; if I do not avenge him, I am no man. Ray, contact Ryan and have him avenge his brother.”

Ray wanted to protest—after all, Ryan was his most valued son, the true hope of the Hoffman family, unlike his fifth brother’s son, a notorious womanizer. But he acquiesced. “Yes, Father. I’ll contact Ryan immediately. However, he joined the military’s secret trial half a year ago and reportedly made great progress. If he breaks through to S-class, he can’t attack Xia Zheng.”

Philip sneered, “Tell Ryan that if he avenges Dick, the position of family head will be his in the future. I trust he’ll know what to do.”

Ray was taken aback, then nodded and left. Yet, inwardly, he fumed: The old fox was using the family headship as bait, but only because he had no other options. None of the sons was ever truly in his eyes. Despicable.

In a remote southern marshland, shrouded in mist, a youth with naturally curly black hair, carrying a survival backpack and sporting dark skin, trekked through the wilderness. His Bluetooth earpiece chimed, notifying him of a new email.

He had the AI read the email aloud as he walked. Just then, a pool beneath his feet suddenly shifted. A creature with an enormous head, gaping maw, and a stunted body and tail lunged from the muck, snapping at his ankle.

The young man showed no sign of panic, continuing to listen to his mail. The ankle caught by the beast dissolved into black smoke, leaving the monster momentarily perplexed.

His foot reformed seamlessly, and he brought it down with crushing force on the creature’s skull, pinning it in place despite its desperate thrashing. The impact burst its head, releasing foul, corrosive blood. Unconcerned, the youth kicked away the remains; the burned flesh again turned to smoke and reconstituted itself.

The voice message ended, and the youth emerged from the marsh. Looking back at the months of inhuman trials he had survived, a surge of pride filled his chest.

This desolate marsh had recently been transformed by the Blood Clan into a slaughterhouse and laboratory, filled with experimental species. Unlike the blood beasts that feared heat, these hybrids had overcome their fatal weaknesses, becoming grotesque and deadly in myriad ways. Blood beasts still bore traces of their animal origins, but these abominations were patchworks, stitched together across species, with unpredictable and terrifying attacks. Even an A-class gifted could easily perish here.

Of the eleven companions who had entered the Death Marsh trial with him, only he remained. His strength had soared; upon completion of this mission, he would at least advance to A+, perhaps S-class.

“Heh, that old fossil dares dangle the family headship as bait. Shameless. Father is a coward too, always bound by filial piety before that arrogant old man. If it were me, I’d seize the headship by force if necessary. Those uncles are all fools, and Dick—dead Dick—was the biggest fool of all, never worthy of comparison with me. Still... the boy who killed Dick is a psychic. That does pique my interest.” He turned and strode onward, now covering tens, even hundreds, of meters with each step—the family’s unique technique, Shadow Step, mastered by only a few. His Shadow Step, however, was unparalleled.

Ryan reached a highway at the edge of the southern marshes and raised his arm and thumb, hoping to hitch a ride. Most long-haul drivers ignored him, so finally he simply hijacked a car, kicking the driver to the roadside before driving off himself.

“Regina is the Pope’s disciple. A year ago, she defeated me. Since then, I’ve worked relentlessly, even risking the military’s deadly trial. Now I’ve returned, and this time, Regina, I will defeat you and make you mine. Xia Zheng will be my appetizer. Psychic, is he? I specialize in killing psychics!” Ryan cranked up the music and drove east—not north, for now he had no intention of reporting back to the military. He would keep his rank suppressed at B+ for the time being.