While the London incident was unfolding, on the other side of the world...
"My ambition has never changed—on earth, I am king. In heaven, I am a god. Before I reach the realm of divinity, a king on earth needs a palace worthy of his title." In a hall brimming with futuristic tech, scenes flickered across the surrounding light screens. Patrick Zade sat atop a lofty throne, swirling a golden goblet, gazing deeply at the jewels embedded in it. "I've spent billions of dollars to build this dazzling and secure palace."
"That little bit of money is nothing to you, sir." A light screen appeared beside Patrick Zade, displaying the face of the old butler, dignified and respectful. "Compared to your total assets, sir, this expense is barely a drop in the bucket."
Patrick Zade replied with a breezy tone, unconcerned: "Exactly, it's nothing, barely a blip for me. But—" His tone shifted, and so did his brows, as he stared at the largest light screen before him. "Today, right now, I'm suffering a truly colossal loss."
On the screen was a heavily guarded facility, looking like an ordinary research company, but Pergamon knew that was just a front—it was the Zade Family’s painstakingly built London stronghold. The Zade Family originated in Britain, later branching out in America, but the London branch still served its purpose and kept tight security.
The branch shown on screen was under Patrick Zade’s jurisdiction.
But right there, a very familiar steel war vehicle came roaring in, like a raging bull, smashing through all the barricades and ramming straight into the company building. The quiet night was shattered in an instant. This vehicle, originally an experimental war machine developed by the Zade Family, was now unleashing firepower on the Zade Family’s secret base.
Stun grenades, flashbangs, incendiaries, hive bombs—every kind of terrifying weapon tore through every building on the surface in just thirty seconds. There was even a white-haired woman pinning a bald guy next to the autocannon’s ammo chain, forcing him to charge every bullet. After the bombardment, she yanked the autocannon clean off the vehicle and charged into the underground base, guns blazing.
There were at least four hundred armed personnel stationed here, along with countless experimental concept weapons, but none of it could stop that white-haired woman’s vengeful rampage.
"Many of the family’s businesses and setups in England can’t see the light of day—some even violate deep taboos. So the Zade Family left behind layers of disguises, false targets, shells, and traps. Yet she broke through three layers in one go, reaching a core position. Guess what she’ll do next? I bet it won’t take long—maybe in an hour, everything the Zade Family did in England will land on MI5’s desk. The Zade Family will suffer massive losses and face huge pressure from the Brits. And me, the direct culprit and root of the trouble, will be quarantined and seriously dealt with by the Pantheon."
Patrick Zade made a "big" gesture with his right hand: "A third of the assets, a third of the resources, and—more importantly—a third of the family’s standing, all gone because I sent a bunch of brainless idiots to hunt her down. And those idiots thought she’d be easy, so the whole operation went sideways—and poof, it all evaporated."
"But you’re utterly calm, sir, so it can’t be as simple as it looks." The butler bowed his head slightly. "Forgive my dullness, but I suspect this was all part of your plan."
Patrick Zade smiled, a bit self-assured, a bit pleased: "You know, at this critical moment, I need the Pantheon to underestimate me. The more they see me as a fool, the more chances I get. The more they think I’m some wild gambler, the easier it is to hide my real intentions. Besides, if I don’t do this, how else can I confirm her true condition?"
The butler remained respectful: "It seems you value this woman named Jill Young very highly, sir."
"Absolutely. She’s an extraordinary person, truly outstanding. I’ve poured resources into investigating her, and she’s basically a prodigy." Patrick Zade gazed at the light screen, eyes full of admiration. "Even among the Chosen, she stands out as one of the very best."
The light screen shifted. Beyond Jill Young’s demolition spree, a smaller screen played other footage—all sorts of clips about Jill Young, gathered from every possible source.
"On the path of evolution, she’s an absolute genius. The earliest info I could dig up on her is this." The screen showed Jill Young knocking out burly opponents in an underground boxing ring. Next to the scene, numbers flashed—precise stats calculated by the system after complex sampling.
Pointing at the numbers, Patrick Zade was all excitement: "Look, even back then, she’d already broken the ‘Thomas Safety Valve’."
The butler asked, right on cue: "Thomas Safety Valve?"
Patrick Zade was in high spirits: "Only those high enough in the Zade Family, and careful enough, ever hear these secrets. The legendary Sophia set up several milestones on the path of evolution. The Thomas Safety Valve, also called ‘Sophia’s First Limit’, refers to the maximum physical strength a natural human can reach. It’s named after the first person found to hit that level—Thomas. I, and almost every Zade scion, are stuck inside the Thomas Safety Valve."
"Even us Zade scions, after superhuman modification, are still locked inside the Thomas Safety Valve. Some clueless fools think it’s a curse, but I know it’s not. It’s a restraint, yes, but also a safeguard—a safety rope Sophia tied around all the enhanced. As long as you’re beneath the safety valve, there’s no risk of self-destruction. Like a meteor far enough from a black hole, you can always escape."
"In Sophia’s evaluation system, the safety valve is set at—100."
The butler, clearly seeing the screen’s contents, spoke slowly: "So, Sophia’s First Limit is the natural human limit. And this woman, back then, was rated at 131."
"Exactly. She’d already broken the natural human limit. And that’s just what she showed—those underground fighters couldn’t force out her true strength. Luckily, the SD Syndicate did me a favor and let me see her real self." The screen changed again, showing Jill Young rampaging through the SD Syndicate base in Eastern Ukraine. Who knows where Patrick Zade got these clips.
"Thanks to SD, we finally saw her true evolution—398!" Patrick Zade’s eyes sparkled. "That’s already Sophia’s Second Limit!"
The butler chimed in: "So the second limit is another evolutionary milestone."
"Right, the second limit is set at 400, also called the Kruz Red Line. It’s a danger zone—anyone who’s been superhumanly enhanced, if they cross this line, they’re at extreme risk." Patrick Zade pointed at Jonathan on the screen. "Look, my useless brother is rated exactly 400 now. If he slips up, he’s toast. Like a meteor closer to the black hole, spinning faster, but caught in wild gravity tides, totally out of control. Any moment, he could shatter to bits."
"So Sophia’s Second Limit is the safety limit," the butler continued. "Then, is the third limit the death limit?"
"Exactly. Sophia’s Third Limit is the death line. Everyone who crosses it dies." Patrick Zade shook his head, sighing. "I don’t know all the secrets of the third limit. I just know different species have different third limits. For humans, it’s around 1800. Passing the second limit is dangerous, but passing the third is certain death."
The butler lowered his gaze: "If I recall correctly, sir, this woman’s recent rating was 6302—way above the third limit. And now, looking at her..." He watched Jill Young rampage across the screen like a furious dragon, his tone completely calm: "She’s still kicking."
"That’s why, the moment I learned about her, I knew I needed her!" Patrick Zade suddenly grew excited. "Just think about it, isn’t it ridiculous? Every superhumanly modified lifeform has three limits, all heading toward certain death on the path of evolution. But why? Why must every evolver die? I refuse to believe evolution is a dead end—I just won’t! So there’s only one reason: the origin of the superhuman experiment, the ‘Superhuman Key’—there’s something wrong with it."
The butler played along: "They say the Superhuman Key is a piece of flesh that’s nearly impossible to kill."
"Exactly, but I bet that flesh is tiny—maybe not even as big as a fingernail, maybe just a clump of blood, who knows? If the experiment material wasn’t so rare, if the Superhuman Key itself wasn’t so scarce, with Sophia’s brilliance and the miracle of the Heart of Tiberius Laboratory, how could such an unforgivable flaw remain? How could my path to godhood be blocked?"
Patrick Zade roared, reverting to his usual tempestuous self. He reached toward the screen as if to grab Jill Young, eyes burning with ambition: "I can give up status, I can give up money, I can endure any struggle and reckoning, because I’ve bet everything! I want my road to godhood to be wide open, I want to break the curse of death, I want to find someone with limitless evolutionary potential—and use her bones as my stepping stones to the throne!"
Bang! On the screen, a heavy metal gate was kicked open by Jill Young, letting her break into the deepest part of the base.
"Sir, it seems you had a reason for sending the ‘Mad Wolf’ to lead the charge." The butler’s voice was still calm and certain. "Anger makes people reckless, anger clouds judgment, anger makes it hard to hide yourself—especially when you seem to have the upper hand. Sacrificing a ‘Mad Wolf’ for her most furious blaze, for her truest data, sir, your wisdom is like the sea."
"No, that’s the whole think tank’s credit. If you all hadn’t gathered and analyzed endless data, mapped out her personality and habits, and tracked her long-term, how could we have found such a perfect match?" Patrick Zade grinned, basking in the thrill of being the mastermind. "A conservative Eastern woman, a chaste maiden with no lovers—nobody can handle a top-tier weirdo like that."
Sure enough, Jill Young was blazing with fury on the screen, and her rating kept climbing. The numbers slowed, flickered twice, then finally glowed with a precise result—10112.
"Look at that—a century-old family, a century of work, and it can’t beat one lone powerhouse! The empire’s about to collapse, the future won’t belong to kings, but to legends!" Patrick Zade laughed, wild and triumphant. "Ten thousand—that’s Sophia’s Fourth Limit! She’s my ticket to godhood!"