Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1200 - 583: Skyscraper, World in the Apocalypse (2/2)_2

"Get out of my way! I have no need to explain myself to you. Intervening in the affairs of Black Shark is not your concern!"

His hands were balled into tight fists, his neck veins stood out, and dark, lava-like crimson markings pulsed faintly beneath his dermis.

He looked as if he might detonate at any moment, reducing that irritatingly pretty face to ruins.

"Ha, did I touch a nerve?"

The man in white pushed forward instead of backing off.

His previously gentle aura sharpened instantly into something glacial, causing the temperature around them to plummet.

The biting frost collided violently with Claude’s surging heat, producing a series of sharp, static-filled cracks in the air.

"Failure is unacceptable. Within the Ideal Land, incompetence is the ultimate transgression."

Boom—

Just as their confrontation hit its breaking point.

The colossal, pitch-black tower above them trembled with immense force.

Immediately, a terrifying will radiated from the summit, pressing down upon the entire expanse of the wasteland.

It was not a directed attack, yet it felt as if the very dome of heaven were collapsing upon them.

The wild, swirling sands froze in mid-air, and the dense cloud cover was ripped apart by an invisible, overwhelming power.

Even the violet lightning dancing at the tower’s apex became still.

It was as if the laws of the universe were bowing to this supreme presence.

Both Claude and the man in white saw their expressions shift instantly.

They abandoned all aggression, setting aside their quarrel as if it had never existed.

With instinctive reverence, they bowed toward the giant gate of the tower, lowering their heads deeply.

Under such absolute, god-like authority, their bodies shivered against their will.

It was a form of submission etched deep into their bones, a reaction surfacing from the very core of their souls.

After an eternity, the oppressive fluctuation receded like an ebbing tide, retreating back into the heights of the tower.

Claude wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead.

The violent rage in his gaze had vanished, replaced entirely by fervent devotion.

"The Lord’s strength... it has increased once again."

The man in white stood tall, brushed off his lapel, which had been disturbed by the wind.

He regained his usual detached composure, though his voice remained deeply serious:

"Since you are aware, stay here and wait dutifully."

He cast a side-long glance at Claude:

"I do not mean to single you out. However, you must realize that personal grievances are nothing more than dust when compared to our grand ideal of creation."

"Hmph."

Claude let out a cold snort:

"I am well aware of that, perhaps more so than you."

The man in white ceased his lecture, merely adding softly:

"Regarding the situation in East Capital—whether Fang Shijie has truly resurfaced or his son is merely playing games—they will not be allowed to persist for much longer."

"Once the Lord descends, he shall decide their fates personally. Even if the Special Search Team wishes to offer protection, the Lord will easily crush them like insects."

"Until that happens, pray that White Owl does not stir up further complications."

Claude ground his teeth, offering no further rebuttal.

He wheeled around, staring into the dim, chaotic horizon, his eyes burning once more with cruelty.

"Rest assured, that man cannot challenge the heavens."

"I am leaving for East Capital now. When the time is right, I will not bother the Lord with such trivialities. I shall personally snap his bones and scatter his ashes to the winds!"

Without another word, he marched forcefully into the gathering storm.

The man in white narrowed his eyes, tracking his companion’s departure.

The violent gale quickly swallowed his burly silhouette.

On this desolate, lifeless wasteland, only the black skyscraper remained.

Standing silently amidst the dust, it loomed over the land like an immutable monument of the Abyss.

..................

A cool night breeze drifted through the half-open window of the car, washing away the heat trapped throughout the day.

Glittering neon signs and soft streetlights blurred into streaks of light, racing across the black hood of the Land Rover as Fang Cheng navigated the streets.

He kept both hands on the wheel, maintaining a smooth, steady pace.

His mind kept returning to the afternoon’s events.

After their meal, Shi Chengyi and Wei Zheng had departed from the Li Family Courtyard.

Fang Cheng had assumed that even with the Special Search Team’s expedited 'green channel,' the bureaucratic mountain of registration would take at least a few days.

To his surprise, Wei Zheng had acted with startling speed.

Shortly before the five o’clock shift ended, a call came through.

Wei Zheng informed him that all examination materials and registration forms were ready.

All that remained were a few ID photos and signatures; he even offered to travel to Wanghu Town to collect them.

Fang Cheng, naturally, did not want to impose.

He ended the call, changed into fresh clothes, and drove himself to the Special Search Team Headquarters in Jing’an District.

It was his first opportunity to step into the heart of national authority, a chance to get his bearings.

Once he had finished the paperwork and finalized his sign-in at the lobby.

Before he left, Wei Zheng handed him a heavy stack of study materials, painstakingly compiled from years of the Special Search Team’s Spring examinations.

Brother Wei patted his shoulder with a relaxed smile, telling him not to worry too much.

For the written sections on psychology, law, and foreign languages, he suggested a light review would suffice.

As long as he did not end up in the bottom tier, Minister Shi would handle the rest.

Fang Cheng simply offered a polite smile, committing to nothing, and thanked him before accepting the stack.

Though his goal in joining the Special Search Team was to use the official facade to hide his true cultivation and refine his skills in the shadows, he had no intention of playing the fool.

The higher-ups viewed him as a martial arts prodigy with immense potential.

If he aimed for the post of "Special Needs Expert" within the Medical Team, he needed to back it up with appropriate results.

Showing up as a heralded prodigy only to rank at the bottom of a written exam would not only humiliate Shi Chengyi but invite unnecessary scrutiny and skepticism.

Therefore, whether in the physical agility test or the written examination, he had to perform at a level befitting his status.

Only by proving his worth could he secure the requisite freedom and authority within such a massive institution.

Of course, this performance would be calibrated to appear impressive, yet reasonable, to their eyes.

The car rolled up to a intersection.

The light turned red.

Fang Cheng pressed the brake, bringing the SUV to a smooth halt.

He turned his head to scan the passenger side.

The kraft paper bag containing the thick exam compilation rested there.

There was still nearly a week until the June 5th retest.

For ordinary candidates, cramming the set requirements of ten different subjects in such a short window would be nearly impossible.

But for Fang Cheng, armed with his near-perfect photographic memory, rote memorization was a trivial task.

The light cycled to green.

He looked away and pressed the accelerator.

The engine hummed to life, and the Land Rover flowed back into the stream of traffic.

It would be best to remain at home in the coming days, acting the part of the diligent student as he reviewed the lessons one final time.