Acting Masters

“Join the Superpower Youth Corps, and everything you did before won’t be pursued. Plus, you can keep doing what you want.”

“What I want?”

Lin Mo gave a smile that carried no warmth. “What do you think I want?”

“To execute justice.”

“Wrong.”

Lin Mo’s smile faded.

“I don’t care about justice. What I want is revenge. I know exactly what you government people are like. Tell me—did you know that Tianle Group was going to kill Choi Jeong-woong?”

Song Junhe stayed silent.

“You did, didn’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. But you didn’t lift a finger. A bunch of superpowered elites paid for by taxpayers’ money—you ignore the things you should handle and rush to meddle in what you shouldn’t.”

Lin Mo stepped forward, the blood blades spinning faster.

“When my girlfriend and I were pinned down by those people, where were you? When she died right in front of me, where was your Superpower Youth Corps?”

The hallway fell silent for a few seconds.

The injured guy on the floor had stopped groaning, sneaking a glance up at Lin Mo.

Song Junhe opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Because he had no answer.

“Now that the killing’s done and the ones who deserved to die are dead, you show up.”

Lin Mo stopped walking. “Recruiting me? Don’t you find that disgusting?”

With that, he turned and walked away.

The blood blades shattered one by one in the air, dissolving into mist.

After two steps, he tossed out a final line without looking back.

“If Choi Jeong-woong dies, I’ll hold the Superpower Youth Corps accountable.”

The sound of footsteps faded.

Song Junhe stood there, waiting until the figure completely disappeared around the stairwell corner before switching on his earpiece.

“Call the rescue team up. We have a wounded man.”

“Copy that. Estimated arrival in three minutes.”

He shut off the earpiece, glanced down at his teammate on the floor, held back for a long moment, and finally couldn’t stop himself.

“Shit. Next time, could you use your damn brain before throwing a punch?”

The guy turned his head away in protest, not daring to talk back.

Song Junhe leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the end of the corridor.

Grade-A, blood-manipulation ability, emotionally volatile, with a clear motivation for revenge. Disgruntled with the authorities, but not outright hostile—after all, this guy could have killed them from the start.

Someone like this could become the sharpest blade—or the biggest headache.

And the reason Lin Mo hadn’t accepted outright was simple.

He needed to give them time to dig into his background.

The deeper they looked, the more they learned, the more they’d realize that not recruiting him would cost more than recruiting him.

To get him on board, they’d be willing to cooperate, even trust him blindly.

When that happened, the second invitation would come naturally.

And the terms would be better.

As for Choi Jeong-woong?

No need to worry.

Since the Superpower Youth Corps knew about Tianle Group’s moves and had seen the corpses in Choi Jeong-woong’s place—especially since they wanted to recruit Lin Mo—they couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

Lin Mo had already firmly pinned that blame on them.

On the other side, Lin Mo’s real body was among a group of people, working on a test paper.

Everyone else was solving one problem each.

Lin Mo, on the other hand, had five problems to tackle alone.

Wang Jie looked up and glanced at him, then lowered his head to stare at his own problem, scratching his head for ages without writing a thing.

When he looked up again, Lin Mo was already on his third problem.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

Wang Jie slapped his pen down on the desk. “Do you even need to think? Do you have a computer for a brain?”

“Just a good sync between brain speed and hand speed.”

“You call that a good sync?”

Wang Jie pointed at his own paper, which didn’t even have a full draft, and then at Lin Mo’s already half-filled answer sheet. “Then what do you call me? Alzheimer’s plus cerebral palsy?”

The teammates nearby held back their laughter.

When it came to Lin Mo, they were all completely convinced.

Lin Mo ignored him and kept writing.

By the time the others barely finished their single problems, Lin Mo had already put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.

Five problems, all done.

Teacher Bai and a few accompanying teachers gathered around, collecting the completed answers for review.

Grading didn’t take much effort—they’d been standing behind him the whole time, watching every step of the process.

The logic was clear, the calculations were rigorous, and the conclusions were spot on.

It was basically confirmed: Lin Mo wrote fast and got it all right.

Teacher Bai adjusted his glasses, an obvious hint of satisfaction in his expression.

“So, it all comes down to you tomorrow, Lin Mo.”

Lin Mo shrugged indifferently. “Don’t worry. As long as they don’t forcibly deport me, it should be fine.”

“They won’t. If they cause trouble, we’ll definitely—”

“Issue a strong condemnation?”

“...”

Teacher Bai opened his mouth, but couldn’t find a comeback.

A few teammates nearby almost burst out laughing.

Teacher Bai’s face turned red. He cleared his throat. “You kid, we’re talking serious here.”

Lin Mo waved a hand and didn’t press further.

He knew very well that many people had their eyes on him. But those people also knew that if they tried some underhanded move to kick him out, they’d have to weigh the consequences of doing it openly.

So they’d probably try a different tactic.

As for what that tactic would be...

Lin Mo was a little curious.

The next morning.

Lin Mo walked into the venue with his participant badge.

The arena was all set up—rows of desks neatly arranged, each table equipped with stationary, tools, and scratch paper. Light poured down from the ceiling spotlights, and the place buzzed with energy.

Teams from various countries filed in one after another.

A few passing competitors took a second look at Lin Mo.

It was obvious they’d gotten the news.

Especially the members from the U.S. team, like Chen Zhiyuan—all of them saw Lin Mo as a major threat.

At the entrance, a short line formed at the security checkpoint.

Every contestant had to go through a check to prevent hidden electronic devices.

The security personnel ran a metal detector over Lin Mo from head to toe, not even skipping his shoes. Not a single beep.

Clean.

Lin Mo found his seat and sat down.

No sooner had he settled than someone sat down to his right.

A contestant from South Korea.

Lin Mo glanced sideways.

The guy looked like a normal person, relaxed expression, casual posture, nothing special about him.

But something was off.

Lin Mo silently extended his spiritual sense to scan him.

And in that instant, everything became clear.

That face was fake.

The skin texture underneath, including the bone structure and muscle lines, was completely different from what was showing on the surface.

Disguise.

And it was incredibly detailed—impossible for an ordinary person to spot with the naked eye.

More critically, this person carried a faint but unique fluctuation of mental energy.

He was also a superpowered individual.