Chapter 562: The Bracelet

The phone call with the President was unremarkable. The gentleman first exchanged views with Li Mochen on the current security situation in America and warned the Wiltonshine family not to actively escalate the situation. Then, the President subtly advised Li Mochen to accept government mediation and cease the war with the National Progressives Association.

However, after encountering several soft rebuffs from Li Mochen, the President stopped insisting and shifted the topic to bilateral cooperation. The two talked for quite a while on this subject, ending the call only after more than ten minutes.

According to the agreement brokered by General George Mattiola, the party that voluntarily violated it would lose the government's 'protection'.

This 'protection' also included personal property, so in principle, the President and the White House, as guarantors and supervisors, were obliged to help them transfer the assets of Philip I, Alexandra Howard, and others.

Perhaps out of concern for the National Progressives Association and his own safety, the President did not directly agree to Li Mochen's request. He did not discuss the matter in detail over the phone, but shortly after the call ended, a new call came to Li Mochen.

It was the President's Assistant and Director of the Office of Communications, a middle-aged woman named Yvette. As everyone knew, this capable White House official was one of the President's closest and most effective assistants. There were even rumors of an unusually intimate relationship between the two.

Yvette almost fully agreed to Li Mochen's demands, though the fee was high. Afterward, Li Mochen needed to transfer nearly twenty billion gold shields in cash to numerous foundations and dozens of overseas accounts.

These funds, of course, were not taken solely by the President but were given as remuneration and operating funds to an entire group including the President, several Federal Supreme Court justices, and key figures from the Department of Justice and local courts.

Li Mochen was willing to pay this sum. With support from the highest levels of government, the resistance and future troubles in transferring assets would be much smaller.

Especially since the current President had worked in the legal system for many years, serving as Attorney General for eight years, with deep connections and trustworthiness.

Late that night, just as Li Mochen finished dealing with these mundane affairs and was about to return to his magic tower for cultivation, the magical projection of Bethal Estantin appeared directly before him.

"I guessed you'd be busy these days, but I decided to contact you at this time anyway. I believe you'll prefer my good news."

In the projection, Estantin sat in his alchemy lab, looking at a white bracelet inside a transparent magical furnace: "I've fully analyzed the item you sent. It is indeed an artifact blank made from the spine of a blood descendant of the World Serpent Jörmungandr, and of a very high rank. Its strength in life was comparable to an intermediate deity, equivalent to an ancient dragon, but due to some reason, it had a major flaw."

"I suspect it was due to domestication. And Anthony's recent investigation of the 'Energy Conservation' magic tower confirmed my judgment. Though hard to believe, Ron Edmund did raise a nearly pure-blood World Serpent, extracted its spine, and forged this artifact. He also added blood shed by the World Serpent Jörmungandr during the medieval divine war to compensate for part of its flaw. So you're very lucky, Andre. Judging from this artifact, it only needs about half a month more to be completed."

Li Mochen's expression was grave. He did not deny Estantin's claim; this time, he was indeed lucky.

When he had sent the item over earlier, he had already sensed three divine powers within it: 'Energy Absorption', 'Energy Circulation', and 'Energy Conservation'.

Individually, these divine powers were not very strong—the bracelet's divine power ranks were all elementary except for 'Energy Absorption'. But when combined, they were terrifying.

It was not only a mythical artifact with defense surpassing the Scarlet Dragon Armor but also extremely powerful in attack, of the type that grows stronger against stronger foes.

Once completed, though insufficient to change the outcome, it would force him to pay a heavy price. And Ron Edmund, armed with this mythical artifact, would not be someone he could take down with a single shot.

So he had to thank General George Mattiola; the war led by the latter had prematurely brought the unprepared 'Energy Monarch' under his gun.

"Since you said it's good news, that means this artifact blank can still be completed, right?"

"I can continue to complete it, but in terms of 'Energy', I still fall far short of the 'Energy Monarch'. Fortunately, the main part is finished, and I can barely deduce the peripheral magical array. But its final power will certainly be inferior to Ron Edmund's original design."

Estantin adjusted his glasses and looked askance at Li Mochen: "So I want to ask you, do you plan to entrust this to me, or find someone else for the subsequent work?"

"Of course it's you, Professor Estantin! As the Eastern saying goes, 'Don't trouble two masters with one task.' Besides you, I can't find anyone more skilled."

Li Mochen thought he would have to be crazy to find someone else. There were grand alchemists more accomplished than Bethal Estantin, but limited to the field of 'Energy', apart from the 'Energy Monarch', Estantin had the deepest expertise; this mage was nearly omniscient.

"Then go collect these materials!"

Estantin said, displaying a list of magical material names before Li Mochen.

"Of course, I have most of these here; I've marked them. If you can't find them outside or don't want to look, you can just pay. The money I'm talking about must be soul gold coins. Gold shields, though backed by the American government, are not very useful in the realm of mythical materials and equipment."

Li Mochen glanced over and saw that the materials totaled one hundred and twenty soul gold coins.

He frowned slightly, feeling a headache. He had recently collected some soul gold coins, which came from outside the realm, but only seven in total.

Currently, the market price of soul gold coins in America was about thirty million gold coins each, so one hundred and twenty would be thirty-six billion gold shields.

The problem was that these were always in short supply and hard to collect in large quantities quickly. However, their price wouldn't become exorbitantly high.

As Li Mochen knew, the Church of Light, the Church of the Goddess of Liberty, the Church of the Goddess of Magic, and others released large amounts of soul gold coins every year. And followers of evil gods, devils, or demons could also receive soul gold coins as gifts by performing blood sacrifices that pleased their 'lords'. Even powerful mages like Estantin could make them themselves if they took the time.

After all, it wasn't something too precious.

"Agreed!"

Li Mochen thought he would have to seek help from Conshuri.

As a powerful mage and the head of a financial conglomerate, Conshuri surely had a considerable number of soul gold coins. Even if he didn't, his connections could help Li Mochen gather them.

If all else failed, he could ask his girlfriend for help.

"I'll deliver the remaining materials and soul gold coins to you as soon as possible. But Professor Estantin, can you start work now and finish it as quickly as possible?"

Li Mochen's eyes gleamed: "It's very important to me, more important than you can imagine. Its value to me is not just as a mythical artifact."

...

On the outskirts of Houston, Texas, hundreds of bullet trails crisscrossed in midair. The roar of guns, machine cannons, rocket launchers, and recoilless rifles echoed over twelve kilometers away.

On Interstate 35, dozens of armored police vehicles sped rapidly toward the incident site.

Rodrigue, a member of the Houston SWAT Fourth Action Group, Forty-fifth Squad, sat in one of the armored vehicles, holding a Mamba 340 automatic rifle, his expression grim.

"No need to be so tense, rookie."

His nervous look made the squad leader of the Fourth Action Group, Ritter, chuckle: "This is a war between the Adams family and the Wiltonshine family. It doesn't concern us much."

His tone was teasing and helpless: "I can guarantee that by the time we arrive, the war will be over. All we need to do is clean up."

"Wiltonshine?"

Rodrigue's expression shifted: "The recent news says they're one of the perpetrators of the Atlanta massacre. I also heard that this family is now one of the supreme families, right?"

"Otherwise?"

Another black man in the armored vehicle, who was cleaning his gun, said: "They dare to confront the Adams family head-on. Know why this time? A freight train of the Wiltonshine Transport Company was hijacked, and then they targeted the Adams family's transport convoy. Things like this have happened repeatedly over the past few days, just not reported in the news."

"They're insane. The Adams family is also a supreme family; they have two ancestors who became gods."

"The Wiltonshine family dares to do this for a reason. They must have the power to抗衡 the Adams family."

"I heard they're now at war not only with the Adams family but also with Onassis and Mattiola."

"To be precise, the entire National Progressives Association. It's a miracle they haven't been overwhelmed. At least in Texas, a few friends of mine in other action groups have experienced similar incidents. They said most of the bodies at the scene belonged to the Adams family."

"Can they tell?"

"Of course, the Adams family members have special markings on their cuffs or collars."

Just as the group in the carriage started chatting, the radio on the driver's seat suddenly emitted a female voice: "Vehicle 122, Vehicle 122, can you hear me? Please stop immediately, stop immediately."

Squad leader Ritter raised an eyebrow, took the walkie-talkie from the officer in the passenger seat: "This is Vehicle 122, this is the Forty-fifth Squad. We hear you, we will stop."

By then, the armored police vehicles ahead had already slowly pulled over to the roadside.

Ritter spoke while looking at the sky reddened by bullet trails and flames: "Can you tell us the reason? The situation over there looks terrible."

"Intelligence indicates that the gunfight may involve demigod-level combatants."

The female voice explained bitterly: "The director's instruction is to keep a safe distance of at least twenty kilometers from the battlefield. If you haven't reached twenty kilometers, stay put; if you've entered the twenty-kilometer range, withdraw immediately."

"Wow! Demigods—"

Ritter gasped, his expression extremely serious. Behind him, the SWAT members in the armored vehicle exchanged uneasy glances.

...

Meanwhile, about seventeen kilometers from Ritter and Rodrigue's location, Remington Adams lay behind the wreckage of an overturned armored vehicle, cursing loudly.

"Shit! Where did they get so many outlaws? Five hundred? Six hundred?"

"Who knows? Though our intelligence director swore that their total number of outlaws wouldn't exceed five thousand, and no more than fifteen hundred could be deployed to various states. But from the current battle, it's at least eighteen hundred. Damn it, they're attacking on three fronts simultaneously."

"I don't understand why there's no backup yet. This is Texas! Can't we even swallow six hundred of the Wiltonshine family? Get down!"

The young man, wearing a senior security advisor uniform of Adams Security Company, suddenly stopped speaking and pressed his body and head low. At the same time, his spell 'Turn Rock to Mud' caused the ground to sink rapidly, lowering him and a few others around him by at least a foot.

The next moment, a cyan wind blade slashed horizontally, cutting the armored wreckage—reinforced by several mages—in half.

The sharp gust swept directly over their heads. Remington Adams lost his lush hair, the wind blade leaving him with a hairstyle resembling a Mediterranean bald patch.

But the combat team hiding behind another armored vehicle nearby was not so lucky.

Fountains of blood spurted from both sides; at least ten people had their heads or upper bodies severed by the wind blade.

Remington Adams's face was pale. Using shell craters and cover, he quickly retreated to a rear position. This was a masterpiece jointly created by three twelfth-level mages and two druids: a trench three meters thick, lined with steel plates and magical arrays, with defensive capabilities rivaling permanent military fortifications. It gave the bald Remington Adams a modicum of safety. Then, through gritted teeth, he spat out a voice full of resentment.

"It's the 'Blood-Eyed Angel' Robert Yvonne—"

This statement made the dozen or so people who had retreated there widen their eyes.

"That's not her in person, otherwise none of us would have survived."

Another man in powered armor glanced toward the opposite side: "But at least a legendary mage! A legendary mage with divine power amplification. The 'Blood-Eyed Angel' is nearby."

"Shit, this is like a decisive battle. Where are our demigods? At least a legendary should show up, right?"

"Legendary? Don't count on it! Last time was the same—we fought and died, but the company's legendary professionals didn't come. I feel our superiors are afraid. They don't want a full-scale war with the Wiltonshine family. They're afraid of that sniper who killed nearly twenty demigods."

"It's not that exaggerated. The total number of demigods on the Atlanta battlefield didn't exceed thirty-five. But that sniper is really terrifying—even someone like the 'Energy Monarch' was almost killed. I wonder where the Wiltonshine family found such a person? Why would they serve that family? Or maybe they're part of the family."

"So it's troublesome now, isn't it? If it comes to a decisive battle, we might win, but who knows how many demigods the Adams family would lose."

"I don't know, but if the battle continues like this, I'm not going to risk my life. There's no hope of winning; they're sending us to die."

Remington Adams listened to the discussions around him and frowned deeply.

In fact, though he was a member of the Adams family, he felt no aversion to his companions' negative remarks.

As one of the elite combat team members fighting on the front line, Remington was equally disheartened.

Such battles had occurred more than seven times in the past five days, each time larger in scale and with more casualties.

He believed the family didn't care about their lives and hadn't thought about how to handle the subsequent battles. The higher-ups simply wanted to use attrition, sacrificing them to wear down the Wiltonshine family.

Before the enemy's legendary and demigod combatants intervened, they would try to deplete the enemy's manpower.

But their enemy had now changed tactics, and Remington Adams didn't think the higher-ups' plan had any chance of success.

He had heard that the family's earlier attack on the Wiltonshine freight train had been 'gainless'.

This term does not refer to gains in 'goods'; on the contrary, they found valuables worth at least seventy-two million gold shields on this freight train.

However, the security personnel stationed on this freight train by the Weltonstein family had been reduced from at least fifteen outlaws to a normal guard level. Moreover, they had already withdrawn before their reinforcements arrived.

The other side had clearly abandoned defense and begun to focus on offense.