Chapter 379 Epilogue

"Looks like it's over."

In Box 15, the middle-aged man from the Wiltonshire family stood up, full of disappointment: "What can I say? Michel's daughter has astonishing talent, and that kid's luck is extraordinary."

"It's not just luck."

Mandiv Ferguson shook his head. This wasn't due to his insight; he had long known how many resources Arcadis Sporting Goods had mobilized for today's team battle.

"André's technique is astonishing. At his stage, he can actually contend with a legend."

"That's what makes it more frightening, isn't it?"

The middle-aged man had already put on his trench coat with the help of his life secretary: "I should go now, Mandiv."

"Let me see you out, Mr. Wiltonshire."

Mandiv Ferguson also picked up his wool coat: "It's been a long time since we've talked like this."

"No need. After I leave here, I still have someone to meet, right here in this Storm Stadium."

The middle-aged man refused: "Mandiv, just do what I told you. It can start tomorrow, right?"

"As you wish! The editorial department is already laying it out, sir."

Mandiv placed his hand over his chest: "I will launch attacks step by step until I cooperate with you to strangle him."

"Excellent!"

The man from the Wiltonshire family put his top hat on with great satisfaction: "Go ahead, Mandiv. As a reward, besides what we agreed upon, the Georgia Post will also be yours."

Not far away, in Room 13, Loren Renard, CEO of the Nathan Western Region, had somehow stood up, his expression solemn and grave as he looked out the floor-to-ceiling window.

After who knows how long, he shifted his gaze to Felton Williams standing beside him: "Any thoughts, Felton?"

"I didn't expect that woman to be so strong."

As he said this, the flaxen-haired boy unconsciously curled his lips: "That guy is lucky, and his strength is surprisingly formidable, especially in combat technique. 10S? 11S? I think that's not accurate. Maybe saying 'ultimate technique at the 10th level' is more precise. In this regard, I concede defeat."

"So now, do you still have confidence in defeating him?"

"That depends on his physical fitness and magic source intensity."

Felton Williams mused: "If he has seventy percent of my physical fitness, I might lose. If it's lower than that, I'll crush him."

"At least you have some self-awareness."

Loren Renard chuckled: "You still have a month and a half until your match with him. So during this time, you—"

"I won't slack off, nor will I underestimate him. Even if only for Glenn Adams, I'll give it my all."

Felton Williams gave a light snort, a golden glint flickering in his eyes. "But Loren, if you want to be absolutely certain, you'll need to give me some new support. That includes intelligence and everything else."

"Of course! During this time, I'll find a way to get Andre's real physical test data. Then all resources for your personal cultivation will be doubled. And besides that, I have good news—"

Loren Leonard raised his chin, casting a cold gaze at Li Mochen, who was walking down from the arena.

"Are you interested in becoming a Divine Grace bearer, Felton? Someone recently discovered an artifact left by Thor in a site in Norway. That one is still sleeping, but he inherits all of Odin's legacy."

...

In the next two rounds, Linden Academy won without any suspense. St. Meken had still gone all out in the second round.

But with the teamwork of Li Mochen and the others, they suppressed the opponent's resistance in just five minutes. Angela's deterrence had greatly increased, forcing the other side to be fully alert to avoid being controlled by her illusions. And after losing three types of Divine Grace domains, these people's physical abilities had dropped to only the level of ninth-rank professionals.

And here, neither Lina Adric nor Louise Linden could be compared to ordinary seventh-rank magic energy professionals; their strength was almost at the level of 10S. The opponent had no chance of defeating them within seven or eight rounds.

Even William Jacques was as cunning as a fish. He stayed close to Li Mochen, using his speed advantage to assist the latter in combat.

At this moment, Li Mochen's strength and his默契 in team combat were highlighted.

He was like an iron umbrella shielding his companions, and like an indestructible forging hammer that could easily destroy the opponent's defenses.

No one from St. Meken who engaged him head-on could last more than five rounds. The strength and speed Li Mochen displayed had surpassed these individuals, and in the exchange of combat techniques, Li Mochen also gained the upper hand.

His sword technique, combining elegance, simplicity, and sharpness, drew continuous screams and cheers from the many young girls in the stands; while most of the others looked ashen-faced and panicked.

By the third round of the match, St. Mecken High School had completely given up, and the consciousness of those legendary powerhouses no longer descended. The five members of Lyndon Academy easily swept all their opponents off the stage. This round lasted less than two minutes in total.

Then, in Hall B of the Storm Gymnasium, a rain of paper began to fall, as countless betting slips fluttered down. People from all sides of the stands were shouting curses. Some cried 'conspiracy,' others 'liar,' and still others yelled 'Fraud Prince.'

But at this moment, although the gymnasium was still filled with waves of noise, it no longer had the force that had threatened to collapse the entire venue earlier. More people looked as if they had lost a parent, slumped limply in their seats, too exhausted to keep shouting.

After stepping down from the ring, Li Mochen apologized to Head Coach Richard and Louise Lyndon, then left early through the competitor's passage.

Another battle awaited his command, or even his personal participation. Li Mochen had no desire to waste time here, nor was he in the mood to attend the post-match press conference that the NHSAA competition committee had prepared.

This might provoke dissatisfaction among some members of the NHSAA competition committee, and would likely result in a fine for the school, but Li Mochen could no longer care about that.

Whether by coincidence or not, as Li Mochen's 'Otto I' drove out of the underground garage of the Storm Gymnasium, escorted by numerous armored vehicles, it encountered a Norfolk Shield stretch limousine at the intersection.

A middle-aged man in a suit, with slicked-back hair and an immaculate appearance, stood by the car, watching their convoy pass through the intersection with a hint of mockery in his eyes.

'That looks like Mandiven Ferguson? Ha! It's that guy.'

Eliza Targaryen had arrived early at the Storm Gymnasium to meet up. She looked out the window and let out a light laugh: 'Look, this guy must be brimming with confidence, thinking he's got you figured out.'

'Ignore him.'

Li Mochen looked at his watch, not even glancing out the window: 'Siguo, please ask the driver up front to speed up.'

Ms. Drew said the first wave of leaks would be at 3:15 today, in the middle of the current affairs news segment.

But Li Mochen's 'Otto I' was perfect in every way except that it had no in-car television. He had to return to the Unicorn Apartment to watch the news on Southern Cable TV.