Victory or defeat depends only on who is stronger.

The Demon Witch slowly turned a full circle in midair, her gaze sweeping over every head below like she was reviewing her own army.

"I have something to tell everyone."

Her voice was calm, even carrying a casual, everyday tone.

"Over the years, the Superpower Youth Corps has been infiltrated and eroded by the Trust Society. They've been scheming in secret, trying to take control of the superpowered forces of Stick Republic, and this battle..."

She paused, her smile deepening.

"was also provoked by them, with the goal of creating conflict between us and the Divine Eye Bureau, making us slaughter each other."

Below, there was absolute silence.

No gasps, no questions, no sound at all.

Everyone stood frozen in place.

Wait, is this a joke?

So many people dead, fighting for so long, abilities drained, their comrades' corpses not even cold yet.

And now you're telling me this was all a misunderstanding?

A B-rank superpowered person turned to look at the partner lying on the ground beside him—chest caved in, eyes still open.

He looked back up at the Demon Witch in the sky.

His lips moved, but nothing came out.

Anger? Of course there was anger.

But who was the target of that anger? Old Me? The Trust Society? Or the Demon Witch who was now looking down at them from above, telling them it was all a conspiracy?

He didn't know. His mind was a boiling mess.

Lin Mo's clone sharply sensed the shift in the atmosphere and turned to look at Song Junhe.

Song Junhe's face was pale.

Not the pale of fear—the pale of blood rushing up and then being forcibly suppressed.

He pressed his hand on Lin Mo's shoulder, the pressure heavy.

"Don't speak. Not a single word."

His voice was so low that only Lin Mo could hear it.

"Something's wrong. Something big is wrong."

But he thought staying silent would keep him safe—he clearly underestimated his own presence.

Or rather, he underestimated the purpose behind Smiling Face's speech.

The Demon Witch's gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto their exact position with precision.

"Song Junhe, the Trust Society member embedded in the Superpower Youth Corps."

The moment his name was called, the hairs on the back of Song Junhe's neck stood up.

"Is there anything inaccurate about what I've said?"

Her tone was light, like a teacher calling on a student in class to answer a question.

Everyone knew about the Trust Society, but the members of the Superpower Youth Corps never thought of it as anything particularly special.

Now that the claim was that this completely unremarkable Trust Society had provoked this battle, every pair of eyes snapped toward him.

Song Junhe.

Most people knew that name—one of the core members of the Superpower Youth Corps, an A-rank superpowered, an enforcer under Director Cui's management.

At this moment, what expression did he have on his face?

Song Junhe didn't speak. He was silent for three seconds.

Three seconds wasn't long, but in this atmosphere, it was enough for everyone to run through every possible guess in their heads.

Slowly, he released his grip on Lin Mo's shoulder and stepped forward.

"That's right."

His voice wasn't loud, but in the silent ruins, every word carried clearly.

"I am a member of the Trust Society."

Finally, ripples moved through the crowd.

"Not just me."

Song Junhe didn't give anyone a moment to react, continuing in one breath, "Director Cui is also a member of the Trust Society, because the Superpower Youth Corps was originally founded by the Trust Society itself."

The ripples turned into an uproar.

Several A-ranks looked grim beyond measure.

Song Junhe swept his gaze over them and didn't stop.

"The Demon Witch was always a weapon, a tool—the one controlling it has always been Director Cui. Every S-rank here knows this secret, and some A-ranks know it too."

He paused, then suddenly raised his hand, pointing straight at the Demon Witch in midair.

"But you—Smiling Face! You're not Director Cui. You stole control of the Demon Witch."

Song Junhe's words hit like a thunderbolt, shocking everyone present.

Too much information at once.

His finger pointed steadily, but his voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but because he understood full well what the next words meant.

"You betrayed the Superpower Youth Corps. You betrayed Director Cui. You're selling all of us to the Divine Eye Bureau, turning the Superpower Youth Corps into Old Me's attack dog."

His voice was getting hoarse.

"Then what will the superpowered people of our Stick Republic mean from now on?"

When he asked that final question, he looked around.

He was waiting.

Waiting for someone to step forward.

What he got was silence.

A long, suffocating silence.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

A B-rank superpowered lowered his head. Another A-rank turned his face away, avoiding eye contact.

Three S-ranks stood frozen in place, and one of them took a half-step back.

Just half a step, but Song Junhe caught it all.

He suddenly laughed.

The logic was simple.

The Demon Witch was the ceiling of the Superpower Youth Corps.

Absolute, overwhelming, top-tier combat power.

Whoever controlled the Demon Witch held the voice of the entire organization.

Reason, position, allegiance, belief—in the face of absolute power, all those things were as light as air.

This war was already over the moment Smiling Face seized control of the Demon Witch.

And victory was never about who was more righteous.

It was only ever about who was stronger.

So Song Junhe already knew there was no way out for him.

Their plan had failed.

Director Cui had been eliminated, the rise of the Trust Society strangled in its cradle, and he, Song Junhe—the insider planted by the Trust Society within the Superpower Youth Corps—was now completely exposed.

Song Junhe looked at Lin Mo's clone and even managed to force out a smile.

"At least having you buried with me isn't so bad."

Lin Mo: ?

How could anyone in this world be so shameless?

He immediately raised his hand. "I just started today. You can't count me in on this. I haven't even received my first month's salary."

The crowd was dead quiet. No one dared to say a word—everything hinged on the Demon Witch.

All eyes turned upward.

The Demon Witch hovered in the air, tilting her head. Her gaze landed on Lin Mo, then shifted to Song Junhe, scanning back and forth twice.

The look on her face was like she was examining two dishes, deciding which to eat first.

"If you kill Song Junhe, then of course you don't count."

Lin Mo nodded.

"That's easy."

His tone was absurdly casual, like someone had just asked him to throw out the trash.

With that, he raised his hand. Blood surged in his palm, condensing and shaping itself.

A massive blood-red claw formed, tips still dripping with beads of blood.

Song Junhe jolted, stumbling back several steps. His skin began to harden all over, a faint metallic sheen emerging.

His ability was surface hardening—A-rank defensive type, one of the best within the Trust Society.

"Don't you have principles? What about your justice?"

He tried to stall, to appeal to a sense of principle—to trap the man who had been about to die with him.

Lin Mo spoke each word deliberately. "Did you think about that principle when you were acting like a fool in front of me?"

Song Junhe's face changed.

"Did you think about justice when you tried to replicate my ability?"

The moment those words landed, Song Junhe's eyes went wide.