I'm even more powerful than you think

Where's the mission?

Why isn't there a mission popping up?

Shouldn't there be some kind of mission at a time like this?

[System: It's night, shut it down! Stop dreaming!]

Well, seems there really isn't a mission.

Lin Mo tapped the armrest lightly with his fingers, his gaze sharp as if it could pierce through a person's soul.

"So, you want to make contact with the people sent from above, but you're unsure of their background. You're hoping the Master can back you up, so he can step in at a critical moment."

The words sounded less like speculation and more like a statement.

Liu Zheng felt uneasy under his stare, his chest tightening before he finally let out a heavy sigh—an implicit admission.

He leaned back, his posture slack with exhaustion.

"According to Xia Zhi, whoever knew about the safehouse of the Yanhuang Awakening and managed to smuggle someone past customs—the forces behind this run deep.

People like us, small fry with no influence, what can we even do?"

"Then you could just walk away," Lin Mo cut in, his tone shifting like a cold blade. "The simplest solution is to wash your hands of it completely. Why insist on getting involved?"

The question froze Liu Zheng in place.

Why get involved?

His mind buzzed, a surge of frustration shooting straight to his temples.

Damn it!

You think I want to deal with this?! If it weren’t for the North Profound True Man shoving this hot potato into my hands, would I even be here wasting my breath with you?!

The veins at his temples nearly bulged, his anger stuck in his throat—unable to be spat out or swallowed, leaving his face flushed.

Lin Mo took in every minute twitch on Liu Zheng’s face before continuing,

"Even if you took the job, you could just follow protocol—escort the target back to headquarters, file a report, and call it a day.

There’s no need to overthink it and drag yourself into this mess."

Liu Zheng deflated like a punctured balloon. He rubbed his face roughly, trying to regain some semblance of professional composure.

"Since it’s been handed to us, we should see it through to the end. It’s our duty."

Even he could hear how hollow the words sounded.

Lin Mo drummed his fingers on the chair.

"Duty is your excuse, not your reason."

His voice wasn’t loud, but each word struck Liu Zheng’s heart like a hammer.

"The real reason is, you can’t stomach letting something like this happen right under your noses.

Deep down, your bones won’t allow it.

So, you’re not just trying to ‘handle’ the situation—you want to ‘resolve’ it at the root."

Lin Mo leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Liu Zheng.

"I’ve been wondering—why did the Master reveal himself to you? A mere curse-breaking ritual, he could’ve handled it without a trace, no need to show his face at all."

Liu Zheng’s head snapped up, his breath hitching. "You know about that?"

"Of course. Now I understand—the reason the Master had me interact with you is because he approves of your character."

Approval?

Hearing that, Liu Zheng’s heart leapt.

The big shot acknowledges me? Does that mean my future’s looking bright?

"Don’t grin like an idiot. I’ll bring this up with the Master, but what if he refuses? What’s your backup plan?"

Liu Zheng’s budding smile stiffened again.

"B-backup plan?"

"Yeah. What if the Master doesn’t want trouble?" Lin Mo spread his hands, relaxed.

"Uh..."

"Relax, I’ll talk to him. He’ll probably agree, but he might assign me to assist you—call it ‘training’ for me."

Liu Zheng studied Lin Mo. He’d read his file.

But he shook his head.

"Let’s not. I know you were just an ordinary person a year ago, so..."

Lin Mo chuckled.

"Don’t underestimate me. That day, I could’ve killed all three of you in an instant—including that Quanzhen Taoist who’s mastered both body and soul cultivation."

The moment the words left his mouth, Liu Zheng’s eyes turned icy.

He lunged forward like a panther, the gust from his movement rustling the napkins on the table.

But Lin Mo simply raised a hand and pressed Liu Zheng—chair and all—back into place.

Liu Zheng’s muscles tensed, veins bulging as he struggled, but it was like being encased in concrete—he couldn’t move an inch.

Lin Mo smirked. "You thought arm-wrestling the instructor was my limit? Think again."

The moment Lin Mo released him, Liu Zheng sprang up without pause, his body coiling like a serpent as he slipped behind Lin Mo. His arm snaked around Lin Mo’s neck, right hand locking over his left bicep—a textbook rear naked choke, executed flawlessly.

He could even feel the warmth of Lin Mo’s skin and the pulse of his carotid artery.

But the expected struggle never came. Lin Mo didn’t even flinch, his breathing unchanged.

And this was Lin Mo holding back.

Everyone knew the rear naked choke was one of the most effective combat techniques—once locked in, breaking free was near impossible.

Even Captain America loved using it to strangle robots—proof of just how OP the move was.

But then, a hand closed around Liu Zheng’s wrist.

It didn’t seem to exert much force, just resting there lightly before slowly pulling his arm back.

Liu Zheng strained with all his might to tighten the chokehold, but that hand moved with unstoppable strength, peeling his arm away inch by inch.

His eyes widened as he watched his own grip being undone.

With a casual flick, Lin Mo tossed Liu Zheng back into his chair.

Liu Zheng yanked out his sidearm and aimed it at Lin Mo.

"I admit your physique is impressive, but no matter how strong you are, can you face a gun? You don’t understand what we’re up against. If the North Profound True Man steps in, we’d welcome it. But you? You’re still too young."

It was clear Liu Zheng was trying to dissuade him.

In his eyes, Lin Mo was still a student. This matter was too grave—he didn’t want Lin Mo involved.

If the North Profound True Man intervened, that would be enough.

But the next second, his gun hand was seized.

Lin Mo had closed the distance in an instant, his fingers clamping around Liu Zheng’s wrist.

A cold voice whispered in his ear, sending chills down his spine.

He watched as Lin Mo’s finger flicked the safety off his gun.

Click.

"And one more thing to remember."

Lin Mo’s index finger pressed down over Liu Zheng’s own on the trigger, applying steady pressure.

Liu Zheng’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. He wanted to resist, to pull away, but his entire arm might as well have been welded in place—immovable.

"‘In all martial arts, nothing is invincible—only speed is indomitable.’"

"Don’t—!"

Bang!

Lin Mo was sent flying backward.

Liu Zheng’s mind blanked.

Had he just—killed someone? Killed the North Profound True Man’s disciple?!

But then, midair, Lin Mo flipped gracefully and landed on his feet as lightly as a falling leaf.

A slightly deformed bullet clinked to the floor, rolling from where it had fallen off his chest—his school uniform untouched, not even wrinkled.

"Don’t worry about the gunshot. The Master set up a sound barrier here. You could hold a concert, and not a single note would escape."

Lin Mo dusted off his chest casually.

Liu Zheng's mouth hung open, wide enough to fit an egg inside.