Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1213 - 589:

"From that day on, I swore to God, even if I fall into Hell, I must find the murderer and tear him to pieces!"

Fang Cheng reclined against the throne, silently listening while Shanks exposed this grievous wound.

Shadows from the light veiled his face, betraying no emotion.

Within this turbulent, shadowy mutant realm, power and ambition twist together.

Who hasn’t borne hidden guilts and vengeful debts?

Why would I stand apart?

Fang Cheng’s eyes shadowed faintly; with hands planted on the armrests, he declared icily:

"Who is the murderer?"

Shanks gradually straightened from the floor, lifting his head.

His countenance twisted in savage fury, eyes blazing like a beast at bay:

"It’s definitely that man in the gray trench coat! And my brother, worse than a beast!"

"I don’t know that man’s real name, but I know he founded a mysterious organization, recruiting top-notch mutants worldwide."

"Back then, when I was handling family affairs, I searched the entire castle but couldn’t find my brother’s body."

"However, I found a half-burned diary in his room’s desk."

Tears streaking his cheeks, voice quivering faintly, Shanks continued:

"That diary recorded the name of that organization."

"What organization?"

A glint flashed in Fang Cheng’s eyes before he inquired.

"Id-eal-Land!"

Shanks spat the name through gritted teeth, each syllable laced with venom.

Upon hearing it, Fang Cheng’s fingers dug into the armrests, gouging faint indentations in the solid gold.

He lifted his gaze gradually, sharpness piercing through:

"What else was recorded in the diary?"

Noticing Fang Cheng’s keen curiosity about the group, Shanks frowned and delved into his recollections:

"After all, it was a fragmented diary, filled with disjointed entries. Amid the broken lines, my brother repeatedly ranted about destroying the rotten order to forge a splendid New World."

"He also scrawled: ’The ants of the old era are unworthy to walk with dragons, only by washing the earth with blood can the true Ideal Land be ushered in...’"

Probing his memory deeply, Shanks appended:

"Beyond those lunatic mutterings, the diary listed certain locations. The Frozen Tundra in Siberia, the Amazon Rainforest in South America, and Xia Country, East Capital..."

His voice grew heavier here, as he eyed Fang Cheng:

"The diary described the East Capital region as a primary stronghold, hiding something they crave intensely, with organization members frequently lurking there in secrecy."

Shanks drew a deep breath, brushing tears from his face, then pressed on:

"Over the past fifteen years, driven by vengeance, I’ve roamed the globe, groveling in the underground Black Market, sniffing out their trails like a hound."

"Then, half a year back, I caught wind of something. Ideal Land appears to be covertly dealing with Xia Country’s military elite, partnering on some perilous experiment."

"And the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps has served as Xia Country’s hidden arm, tackling their filthy deeds for ages."

Shanks balled his fist, joints popping with a sharp "crack":

"Thus, I altered my looks and eagerly enlisted with the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps, serving under them."

"I aimed to leverage that link to track upward, infiltrate the military brass, and finally expose Ideal Land’s secrets, locating that man and my brother who might still breathe!"

At this point, Shanks’ words abruptly halted.

His mouth parted, words failing him briefly.

A subtle tension filled the expansive hall.

Life brims with cruel twists of fate.

Shanks had endured and lurked for a year, nearly grasping vital truths.

But a mere week prior, atop the Silver Wing Building, Fang Cheng had burst onto the scene.

Commanding the Illuminati’s elite, Fang Cheng demolished the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps utterly with crushing might, sparing none.

Shanks’ fragile ties were savagely snapped by Fang Cheng’s blows.

After a hushed pause, no trace of resentment crossed Shanks’ features.

He simply dropped his gaze once more, fixating on the marble beneath his feet.

Having poured out his heart, his turmoil seemed to ebb; he murmured steadily:

"Chairman, through fifteen years of probing, the further I delved, the more horrifying Ideal Land’s might revealed itself."

"That group resembles a colossal leviathan in the ocean depths, tentacles reaching every corner of the world. And that man rivals a mythic Demon God in dread power."

Then, Shanks lifted his head anew, locking eyes with Fang Cheng’s steady stare, declaring firmly:

"If you deem it unwise to rouse such monstrous foes for a fresh recruit like me, endangering the Illuminati, I won’t demand your vengeance."

He drew himself upright, slamming his right hand over his left chest resolutely:

"The oath I just swore stands unbreakable; I pledge myself to you as your staunchest servant!"

Fang Cheng loomed atop the throne, eyes tranquil like still waters, regarding the crimson-haired figure bowed at the stairs.

As the man’s fervor peaked, his voice rang with commanding gravity through the chamber:

"I don’t care who you were, or what enemies you bear."

"Once you enter the Illuminati, you belong to me, and so do your foes."

"Be it shadows in the night, elites of the world, or that Ideal Land faction—none may claim your life without my say."

"Even should the heavens collapse, I, your leader, will hold it aloft first!"

These unyielding, crisp declarations struck deep into Shanks’ soul.

The overwhelming, sheltering presence brought tears to the eyes of this blood-hardened wanderer.

"Chairman... Shank... Shanks, ready to die for you!"

Shaking with fervor, voice thick with feeling, he struggled to form words.

Next, he threw his head back, gazing at the throne’s occupant, vowing anew with iron resolve:

"From this day, you alone are my master, my sole light!"

"My blade shall hack down all barriers in your path; wherever you direct it, even into the Abyss itself, I’ll battle till my blood runs dry!"

The pledges echoed off the pillars, reverberating endlessly, etching themselves eternally into the hall.

Fang Cheng inclined his head faintly, accepting this profound "Destiny Contract" with grace.

Witnessing this, Shanks allowed his rigid frame to fully unwind.

He gulped several deep breaths, quelling his roiling passions.

Abruptly recalling his sole asset, he quickly interjected:

"Chairman, the Masked Guest’s secret Swiss Bank account—I can reveal it now, the password is..."

"No need to tell me."

Fang Cheng lifted a hand, gesturing dismissively to cut him off:

"Tomorrow, inform the Professor directly when he tends your injuries; let him manage those funds completely."

Shanks paused briefly, then nodded vigorously:

"Yes, understood, sir."

Fang Cheng noted the faint wavering at his phantom consciousness’s edges.

This signaled recovery from grave wounds, with Spirit still unsteady.

"Your body’s wounds remain unhealed; don’t keep your mind adrift overly long."

Fang Cheng flicked his sleeve, summoning a gust that hoisted Shanks from the steps’ base:

"Return and recuperate fully—greater tasks await you soon."

"Understood."

Face grave with respect, Shanks bowed profoundly.

Instantly, his form dissolved into myriad golden specks, vanishing rapidly amid the prismatic gloom, departing the Inner World.

The grand hall sank back into vast emptiness and hush.

Fang Cheng stayed enthroned in gold.

He tilted his head upward, eyes drawn to the vaulted starry expanse.

The once-obscure, faint Star had now veered from its old path.

It crossed the celestial ocean, anchoring boldly at the firmament’s heart.

Near the radiant golden sun symbolizing Fang Cheng, it shone with dazzling splendor.

"It’s indeed effective..."

A subtle smile curved Fang Cheng’s lips as he whispered.