Super Teen Corps Headquarters

In Seoul, a tall commercial office building.

People in suits and ties, looking sharp and polished, were coming and going, wearing name tags and walking with hurried steps—no different from ordinary office workers.

No one would have guessed that this building was actually the base headquarters of the Korean Super Youth Brigade.

Thirteen seats surrounded a round table, but only seven people were seated at the moment.

The empty seats presumably belonged to certain individuals.

The old man in the main seat was over seventy, with most of his hair turned white, yet the skin on his face was taut and well-preserved, making him appear no older than fifty.

He tapped the table rhythmically with his finger, sweeping his gaze from left to right, pausing on each face for less than half a second.

"Lin Mo has already arrived in Seoul."

The tapping stopped.

"Intelligence has upgraded his threat level from S to Triple S. His abilities may be on par with yours, but his potential for harm is far greater."

The old man said this in a flat tone, as if reading a weather forecast.

"To ensure the safety of Seoul, one of you must go to the Time Hotel and keep an eye on him."

The remaining six were unmoved, each wearing an expression of indifference as if the matter didn't concern them.

One was examining her nails, another was daydreaming, and one had his eyes half-closed, lost in thought.

These people were no longer young—the youngest among them looked to be at least twenty-five or twenty-six.

After about ten seconds of silence,

a man with a bushy chin beard sighed, pushed his chair back, and stood up.

"Alright, alright, I'll go."

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, draped it over his arm, and walked toward the door. After a couple of steps, he turned back to add, "Worst case scenario, we both go down together. I'm almost done anyway."

No one turned to look at him.

They didn't even lift an eyelid.

Only after the man had left did the old man speak up slowly.

"Smiling Face."

"Huh?"

The youngest-looking person in the corner tilted his head.

"Follow him. Keep an eye on him so he doesn't actually tear down the Time Hotel. It's not just the Chinese team staying there—there are people from other countries too. If something happens, it'll turn into an international diplomatic incident, and none of us can bear that responsibility."

Smiling Face bounced up from his chair, a grin plastered on his face, both hands stuffed in his pockets as he jogged after the man.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Big Bro. If he makes a move, I'll stop him. If I can't stop him, though..."

He paused.

"Then it's not my problem anymore."

With that, he was out the door.

The remaining four sat exactly as they had been, as if they hadn't heard a word of the conversation.

The old man paid them no mind, cleared his throat, and said, "Now, on to business."

He pulled a file from under the table, flipped open the first page, which bore a blurry photo.

"The item soon to be transported to our country—the Spirit Eye Bureau is keeping a close watch. The transport route has been changed three times now, and they've kept pace every single time. If they intercept it..."

"Then I'm afraid our Great Korean people will suffer another round of senseless oppression. If that happens, our future..."

The old man didn't finish his sentence.

Everyone present understood what that meant.

South Korea had lived under the shadow of the Americans for years—outwardly deferential, but burning with frustration inside.

After all, they were a sovereign nation, and being choked like this for so long would make anyone resentful.

But resentment aside, their strength was limited, so they could only take things step by step.

"This matter is now in your hands."

The old man closed the file and got up to leave.

--System: A World's Calm Before the Slaughter--

Time Hotel.

In Lin Mo's room, the curtains were drawn tight.

Dongfang Shuye sat on the arm of the sofa, holding a bottle of mineral water. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

This wasn't China, so he couldn't bring his Dongfang Leaves tea along.

They didn't serve the tea he liked here either, so mineral water would have to do.

"Are these Koreans this timid? I thought they'd come at you."

"Come at me?"

Lin Mo lay on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "They're not stupid. Best-case scenario, they might live to thirty if they're lucky—why would they throw that away?"

Dongfang Shuye mulled it over and didn't argue.

Within Lin Mo's spiritual perception range, the five super youths had already slipped back to their suite upstairs.

The TV screen in their room was dark, the room dead silent. They stared at each other, not daring to say a word.

They dared not confront Lin Mo, nor did they provoke him at the door.

Dongfang Shuye had originally prepared some diplomatic phrases to negotiate with them, but Lin Mo had bypassed that step entirely with a show of force.

It saved trouble for now, but the subsequent negotiations would probably be much more complicated.

Still, Dongfang Shuye didn't complain.

After dealing with Lin Mo for so long, he had long gotten used to this kind of style.

Thump! Thump!

Someone knocked on the door.

"Hey! Lin Mo! Wanna go eat?"

Wang Jie's loud voice carried through the door panel.

Dongfang Shuye got up to open the door.

Wang Jie froze for a moment when he saw him, looked him up and down, opened his mouth, but ended up saying nothing.

"Where are we going to eat?" Dongfang Shuye leaned against the doorframe.

"The hotel buffet. The event organizers arranged it—teams from all countries are eating there. With so many people watching, no one should dare to tamper with the food."

"Should?" Dongfang Shuye raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you even more cautious than Teacher Bai? Don't worry, Teacher Bai checked—both the ingredients and the kitchen staff have passed a security review."

Lin Mo sat up from the bed, brushed some nonexistent dust off his pants, and shuffled over to the door in his slippers.

"Let's go. I'm hungry."

Wang Jie glanced at his slippers.

"You're wearing those?"

"What about it?"

"Nothing."

"Alright, then. Is everyone going to eat?"

"Yeah, we all have to eat. It's late, and everyone's hungry."

The three left the room and walked to the elevator lobby.

Most of the Chinese team had already gathered, standing around in small groups—some chatting quietly, others looking down at their schedules.

Teacher Bai stood at the front, holding an itinerary.

"The competition doesn't start until the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'll arrange a trip to the venue to get familiar with the environment. Also, in the hotel's public areas..."

As Teacher Bai was explaining something, footsteps echoed from the other direction.

A group of about fifteen people walked over, straggling along.

The American team.

Interestingly, more than half of this team representing America had Chinese-American faces.

And not just the contestants—even the coaching staff and support personnel included several Asian faces.

The two teams met head-on at the elevator lobby.

The air went still for two seconds.

The leader of the American team, a Chinese-American man in his forties with short black hair and rimless glasses, swept his gaze over the Chinese side. Without stopping, he led his team straight to the elevator.

But a few of the Chinese-American contestants behind him didn't look quite so comfortable.