Volume Two: The Youth of a Thousand Faces, Truth in Disguise Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Scheming of Calamity

Huo Ye hadn’t signed up initially; he merely promised Zhang Haiqing he’d join the racing tournament, so Zhang Haiqing put his name down, though his teammate was still undecided.

“That’s my plan for tomorrow, everyone. The club has only just started, and there’s much to deal with. Right now, our funds are lacking, so we need to work harder. As for tomorrow’s race, is anyone willing to join me?”

Once again, Huo Ye announced his intention to compete in the racing tournament at a club meeting, hoping to find a teammate among his peers.

Everyone looked at each other uncertainly. Jiang Feng said, “I’d like to help, but my driving skills...”

“I’m in the same boat, and my latest invention is still in its final testing phase—I’m a bit busy,” Lei Limi chimed in.

“For me, the race is too late—I’ll be sleeping then,” Kazama Liuli said weakly, raising her hand.

Huo Ye glanced at Alice and Shangguan Yudie. Only these two remained. Alice looked eager, but after pondering for a moment, she pointed at Shangguan Yudie and said, “Yudie, you come with me.”

Both girls were confused. Why me? (Yudie) Why not me? (Alice)

Alice puffed her cheeks indignantly. “How am I any worse than Yudie? I want to team up with you!”

Huo Ye explained, “I’ll be participating as the stunt driver, so my partner needs to be quick. Cornering skills, minimal speed loss to dodge obstacles, and handling the bike’s controls during sprints—Yudie excels at all that.”

“But—”

“Sorry, Alice, this is official club business, so we can’t treat it like a game,” Huo Ye interrupted.

Alice snorted but said no more.

“So, Yudie, are you willing to compete with me?” Huo Ye asked.

Shangguan Yudie nodded.

“Let’s go familiarize ourselves with the track then,” Huo Ye said, standing and leaving with Shangguan Yudie.

Their hover bikes were parked in the club’s underground garage. Within the academy, there was no need to drive themselves—taxis were everywhere. But since they were off to practice, they naturally rode their hover bikes.

At the administration office, they registered, then rode straight onto the track.

Wind whipped past their ears, the fierce sound of air friction pounding Huo Ye’s eardrums. Though his body heat slipped away, Huo Ye felt no chill—only excitement. He loved bikes; he loved the sensation of speed. It was wholly different from running—steady, effortless, exhilarating, and comfortable.

If it came down to pure speed, Huo Ye could outpace the hover bike’s maximum by double. But as the saying goes, happiness is priceless.

---

“Yudie, have you ever raced before?” Huo Ye asked.

Shangguan Yudie stared straight ahead, focused. “No, too many people. I don’t like crowds.”

“Understandable,” Huo Ye replied. “If it were you, how fast could you complete this track?”

“Fifty minutes.”

“Above average. That’ll work. When—” Huo Ye was about to share his strategy when he suddenly felt hostility behind him—a gut instinct.

He stopped mid-sentence and leaned aside; his bike shifted, and a white blur flashed by. A man riding a hover bike pulled alongside, looking at Huo Ye with ill intent, though he feigned politeness as he greeted, “You must be Huo Ye? I’m Jin Puxian, president of The Truth Society.”

Jin Puxian, dressed in white, had an ethereal air, but a contradictory vibe lingered, unlike the serene Feng Wuming.

Huo Ye smirked, “Ah, President Jin. Liuli asked me to say hello for her.” He was simply trying to annoy Jin Puxian.

Jin Puxian’s eyelid twitched, clearly annoyed. Huo Ye’s words were salt in the wound, but Jin could only snort coldly.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll show you what true driving skill looks like!” Jin Puxian declared, then sped off.

Huo Ye was left speechless. This unlucky kid comes and goes as he pleases—do I even know who you are? That look of destined rivalry—what is that? You remind me of a certain idiot named Lin, you know?

---

Main Disasterfield, Hill’s Castle. A guest had arrived. For Hill, the newly appointed Tenth Calamity, the only one worthy of being called guest was another of the Twelve Calamities—the Twelfth Calamity, the Undying Phoenix, Sharlo.

The Twelve Calamities were constantly replaced—some died in battle, others were dismissed by the King. Whenever a vacancy arose, a successor was appointed. But since Sharlo took the Twelfth Calamity’s position, 369 years ago, before the worlds of calamity and humanity intertwined, he had held it firmly.

Higher-ranked Calamities had been slain by humans, most by a man still in his forties, Eddie Halls. Sharlo had met Eddie but survived, for he was the Undying Phoenix.

“Lord Sharlo, please be seated,” Hill said, uncharacteristically respectful.

Sharlo sat without ceremony. “Hahaha, don’t call me lord. You outrank me—you should be the one addressed as lord.”

“You flatter me, Lord Sharlo. I lack experience and am not your equal. I only became the Tenth because the position was vacated. Honestly, it should be you moving up and me taking Twelfth,” Hill replied, expressionless.

Sharlo laughed it off. “Enough with the pleasantries. I’m only here because I can’t die—I’m nowhere near as powerful as you lot. In fact, some resent me for occupying a spot, blocking their advancement.”

Hill managed an awkward smile. Sharlo chuckled, “Ah, sorry for the odd talk. Anyway, I came to ask: I heard you lost two ultimate forms right after taking office. Aren’t you worried the Disaster Lord will be displeased?”

Hill’s expression turned solemn. He replied coldly, “That’s none of your concern, Lord Sharlo. Those two were useless—one arrogant, one childish and impulsive. Their deaths were deserved!”

Hill didn’t mention that Bobby had been sent out as cannon fodder to escort Saiki into Bancroft—an assignment secretly ordered by the King.

Sharlo took out a fan, holding it against his mouth without opening it, hiding part of his smile. He whispered, “Is that so? Do you know who killed them? Was it the Hunter Squad? I heard their deaths are linked to a human student—Eddie Halls’ son, no less.”

“Oh? And how did you hear that, Lord Sharlo? I don’t even know how Karen died. A few days ago, his life token shattered in my possession, that’s how I learned.”

Each Calamity held the life tokens of their subordinates. When a calamity pledged fealty to a Calamity rather than wandering the Disasterfield as a lonely ghost, they offered a part of their essence to create a life token for their master to command. If the subordinate died, the token shattered, and vice versa. This was how the Calamities controlled their followers, wielding the threat of death.

Only the Twelve Calamities knew how to extract a fragment of essence without killing the calamity, and how to forge life tokens.

“Is that so?” Sharlo gave Hill a strange look. “By the way, before I came here, I visited Saiki. I always make my rounds from lowest to highest. But Saiki wasn’t around—wonder what he was up to?”

He leaned in with a mischievous grin, but Hill dared not react, though in reality Sharlo was no match for him.

Hill replied nervously, “Who knows—maybe he felt like it and went hunting humans himself.”

The lie was full of holes. Saiki, a parasite with pitifully low abilities, could be crushed by the weakest power-user. Hunt humans? Ridiculous.

Yet Sharlo seemed oblivious, tapping his forehead with the fan. “True. He always relies on nutrients from his subordinates—maybe he had a craving.”

Hill forced a smile.

Sharlo left Hill’s castle. In Main Disasterfield, night reigns eternal. There is no day, no nearby stars, nothing for light-years around. The violet-black sky symbolizes their noble royal bloodline—the Purplebloods.

Purple hair, purple eyes, and the royal blood that calamities should never possess—this is the mark of their dynasty.

“O King, did you not say that the Crown Prince should be left to his own devices? Or have you learned the ways of human parental love? So they say: beauty brings disaster, destroys nations. Humans really do craft the most interesting sayings.” Having served numerous Disaster Lords and learned countless royal secrets, Sharlo seemed to have guessed something, muttering to himself in the deserted wasteland.