"We can see that ten minutes after the explosion, the humanitarian organization, Star of Life, has arrived at the disaster site."

"A total of one hundred and thirty-two people were killed in this attack, and the number of injured is initially estimated to exceed two hundred. The president of Star of Life has promised to fully search and rescue the injured and will provide psychological counseling to help the victims of this attack overcome their trauma."

"Mr. Diesel Lindong, a member of the board of directors, is suspected to have been killed in the attack."

"The whereabouts of the attacker Von Jie are currently unknown. Tuners are intensifying the search and have completely locked down the city."

"The Ascetic Sect has claimed responsibility for this terrorist attack."

The screen is filled with smoke and dust swirling in the air. Debris and fragments are scattered everywhere along the street, with broken walls burning and thick smoke obscuring the sky.

Cries for help, the sound of burning, sirens—all together form this world of suffering.

Iron and blood, burning and destruction.

Buildings are shattered in the flames, and the cries and wails of people mingle together, resembling a human purgatory.

If this were a painting, its base color would certainly be gray, evoking oppression and despair.

"Found them, found the people!"

On top of the ruins, a figure in white shouted. Several shadows ran towards him. They were all members of Star of Life, identified by the red cross on their shoulders, the rescue angels sent by Life Daylight Company to every Nest City.

In the School of Art.

"Diesel was a practitioner on the path of art, contributing significantly to the development of this endeavor. He was a colleague worthy of respect and my friend."

A man with a gaunt face and deep-set eyes spoke to the camera. He wore dark red attire, the raised collar reminiscent of a Vampire Duke. His skin was pale to the point of being unhealthy, and his tone was as calm as if he were narrating an ordinary event.

"I will get to the bottom of this matter, and bring justice to him and to the victims of this incident."

"Mr. Divine Song, wait..."

The reporter wanted to say something else, but the voice of a Tuner interrupted from the side. Several Tuners carrying riot-control weapons stepped forward:

"Step back, maintain your distance!"

"Belvedere, you're a damn hypocrite! Wasn't this attack actually coordinated by you and those madmen from the Ascetic Sect?"

Someone in the crowd shouted loudly.

"Who doesn't know that you and Diesel have always had differing ideas? He constantly advocated for the abolition of the foster institution, telling everyone not to be fooled by those guys' pretentious words. This is a politically motivated murder!!"

"Who!?" The authoritative aura of the Tuner stunned the crowd.

"Find the guy spouting this nonsense!"

An old man pushed a silhouette ahead, his hand threading through gaps between people, bending his body, trying to keep his head down amidst the swaying crowd to avoid the Tuners' gaze, his hunchbacked form looked both comical and ridiculous at the moment.

"There he is, don't let him get away!"

Several Tuners forcefully pushed through the crowd, quickly giving chase.

The scene turned chaotic all at once, resembling a farce.

The deep-set-eyed man watched the figure leave without saying anything, just turned his back, seemingly weary of the farce. With a wave of his hand, the Tuners beside him stepped up and blocked the reporters swarming forward.

...

By the ruins, the search and rescue continued. Occasionally, one could see the white figures carrying stretchers pass by from the back, the people on the stretchers emitting sounds of painful moans.

In the crowd, a black-haired girl, wearing a pure white Investigator uniform, with eyes as beautiful as red garnet, was both reporting something through a veil and reaching out to those in pain.

The vibrant green glow, like new shoots, sprouted from beneath their skin, with intangible, delicate leaves adhering to wounds.

Under the gentle green light, the pain on the injured's faces alleviated considerably.

"Investigator Bai, long time no see. Has the association over there taken note of recent events too?"

Upon hearing someone's voice, Bai Nian'an looked up. After seeing who it was, she nodded.

The young man was exceptionally handsome, radiant, with the unique temperament of a noble scion. His silver-gray knight armor made him conspicuous in the crowd, attracting many eyes upon his appearance.

"Don't worry too much, I was just participating in an opera rehearsal at the Academy for 'The Last Queen and Her Round Table Knights,' which I have been preparing for a long time. Perhaps you can see my performance at this year's academy gala."

Saying this, the young man looked around, shaking his head with some regret: "Pity, many of the designs on Huayu Street's buildings were artistically profound. The old architect Master Neil passed away a month ago, and now they are destroyed in this attack. Even if rebuilt, they wouldn't have the original height and soul, right?"

Noticing that the person showed indifference to life, placing regret on the buildings instead, a flash of displeasure crossed Bai Nian'an's face but she said nothing.

Lancelot Withering Flower, president of the student council at Starry Arts Academy, the second son of the Withering Flower family. From a young age, he showed remarkable artistic talent and grew up with the support of family resources, producing countless works, listing them all would take half a day.

He is seen as a paragon by countless people, an existence whose back is hard for others to even glimpse.

His talents aren't limited to academic achievements; he himself is also a Three-Tier Holy Hall Knight. It's known that at barely over twenty, the number of people reaching the ability level of Three Tier is rare, with less than ten across the entire Star of Art.

Those blessed by the Stars are, at the same time, cursed by them. The vast majority are born with abilities of One Tier or above, discernable in their early years, allowing them to see through occupational traits and gather a Mimicry, advancing to Two Tier.

But the threshold of Three Tier—deep self-exploration—is something ninety percent of people can't cross in their lifetime.

Without a doubt, the young man's future is exceedingly bright. After graduating from the Academy, he will enter the Starry Gallery as the student council president, becoming one of the rule-makers in this Ice and Snow World.

Even wanting to leave the Star of Art, the identity of the second legitimate son of the Withering Flower family could transform into wings, helping him fly to higher, more open places.

Bai Nian'an doesn't enjoy interacting with such noble offspring, even though these family members rarely act cynically or throw their weight around, most of them are witty and courteous in conversation.

But their socializing is often accompanied by objectives and interests, engaging with them always feels like being calculated, and the fact the other party approached her here just because of her identity as a member of the Order Court family is highly likely.

Growing up in a family environment, her upbringing taught her to reply politely:

"Recently, the association has noticed abnormal fluctuations in the spiritual energy of Star of Art and is concerned this might be a precursor to the birth of high-risk rumored creatures, sending me here for some simple investigations."

"Indeed, lately, many odd happenings have occurred at the Star of Art; the number of Exhausted in the Piano Key District has noticeably increased compared to before, with over ten strange incidents reported just this month. Such things didn't happen in previous years." Lancelot said.

"And those damned Ascetic Sect." Talking about the Ascetic Sect, Lancelot's eyes grew obviously sharper.

"Even Mr. Diesel fell victim to them."

"The number of terrorist attacks by those madmen has also significantly exceeded usual, and to call such things art is truly defiling this hall."

Lancelot's furrowed brows relaxed.

"This feeling of an impending storm is really terrible, isn't it?"

Bai Nian'an didn't respond to him, her ears automatically ignoring Lancelot's self-talk.

She touched the veil with her fingertips, sending all the information to be reported to the association's superior. Just as she was about to turn, the young man's voice came again.

This time, upon hearing Lancelot's words, she slightly clenched her fist.

"Your sister, the investigator who made a mess a few days ago, I heard she received severe family punishment, was she 'grounded'?"

Lancelot's calm smile seemed to hide sharp blades, piercing straight into Bai Nian'an's heart.

She paused, her face darkening.

"Such severe punishment, it seems the Order Court's reputation is really suffering this time."

"This has nothing to do with you." Bai Nian'an glanced back at the young man, her gaze icy, "Mind your own business, Second Young Master of the Withering Flower family."

Lancelot watched the young girl leave, a barely noticeable curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Angry, which means I was guessing in the right direction."

Moreover, he showed helplessness: "Second Young Master? Really, those are some sharp words."

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