# 41
Chapter 41 – Incomplete God’s Ruins
“Top-tier reconnaissance and combat-support ability. The advantages may not look huge right now, but as your power grows it should become downright terrifying.”
Wen Qimo spoke while jotting down notes.
“Anything else?”
“My dynamic vision is several times better than before.”
“Close-quarters killing aid—good. What else?”
“By burning a lot of mental energy I can release a trace of the Seraph’s might.”
“Mm, most god-agents can do that. Anything more?”
“That’s all.”
“…That’s all??”
Wen Qimo looked up, stunned. “Just that?”
“The power the Seraph gave me is only this much.” Lin Qiye answered sincerely; in a way, he was telling the truth.
Wen Qimo’s brows knitted. After thinking for a while he shook his head repeatedly. “No, no… this is the Mortal Divine Realm. Even at the Lamp realm the display should be far stronger!”
“You mean… my current abilities are incomplete?” Lin Qiye was taken aback.
Wen Qimo nodded. “Put it this way: Phoenix Squad’s Athena agent could punch down a building the moment she stepped into Lamp realm, and tear apart a Pool-realm mythical creature bare-handed.
Your powers are decent—but only decent. More importantly, everything you’ve shown is combat support!
But… this is Michael’s divine domain! How can it be this weak?”
Lin Qiye stared blankly at his hands. “Yet I really only sense these abilities.”
Wen Qimo pondered a moment, then went on: “There are two possibilities. First, when the Seraph chose you He only handed over this small portion—personally I think this is most likely.
Second, the rest of your God’s Ruins has always been there, only you can’t feel it now, or you’re subconsciously ignoring it.”
“Subconsciously ignoring?”
“An example: suppose you could breathe through your skin. After using it so long it becomes natural, and one day you forget you’re doing it—breathing through skin has turned into instinct.”
“You mean I might be using the power all along without noticing?”
“Exactly. Think carefully—since childhood, have you been different from others in any way?”
Lin Qiye considered. “Blind?”
“…That doesn’t count.” Wen Qimo sighed helplessly. “Actually I still lean to the first view: the Seraph never gave you the complete God’s Ruins.
After all, it’s the Seraph’s God’s Ruins. If you’d really been using it all this time, there’s no way you’d still be so ordinary; you’d sneeze and blow a crowd away.”
Lin Qiye: …
“Anyway, I said your Mortal Divine Realm is roughly high-risk level—looks like I over-estimated. From what you’ve shown, it’s only ordinary-risk.”
Wen Qimo scribbled a few more lines and consoled him: “But don’t lose heart. As your strength rises the rest will surface. You’re the Seraph’s agent—He won’t let you lose face.”
Lin Qiye shrugged. “Let’s hope.”
He felt a little disappointed—just a little. With the Asylum of the Gods he didn’t rely heavily on the Seraph anyway; six gods were locked in his hospital for him to pick from.
“Since we roughly know your abilities, training starts.” Wen Qimo closed the file and quickly drafted a plan.
“How?”
“Overall, your power leans toward perception and prediction. That’s easier to train than flashy stuff like spiraling spheres; you only need your body to sync with the ability.”
He pointed to the room behind him. “Inside are 39,000 hidden micro rubber-guns. They can fire 1–39,000 rounds per second. Slightly slower than real bullets, but enough for your current stage.
Your job: stand inside, use your senses and dynamic vision to dodge as many as possible.
Given your realm, we’ll start at fifty per second.”
Lin Qiye glanced at the room and nodded. “Got it.”
He pushed the door and stood in the center. Honeycomb-like muzzles covered every wall… and an ominous premonition returned.
“Wait, the floor is full of holes too! What if they hit somewhere they shouldn’t?” Seeing the dense muzzles beneath him, he felt a chill in his crotch.
“In real combat danger can come from anywhere; nowhere is off-limits.” Wen Qimo’s voice sounded from all sides. “Ready? Starting.”
Lin Qiye slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Begin.”
Beep—!
Whoosh whoosh whoosh…
The instant the signal rang, rubber bullets poured like rain from every direction, far too fast for the naked eye.
Lin Qiye reacted the moment they left the barrels—two back-flips dodged most, but another wave followed, every angle viciously tricky.
He could predict trajectories, only the number he could track at once was limited.
Like catching one rolling ping-pong ball: easy. Three: still doable. Twenty rolling in different directions: the brain can’t keep up.
That was his problem.
Three seconds in, a dozen bullets had struck. Rubber won’t wound, but at that speed it hurts.
Thus he finally grasped the essence of this training…
“Damn it, why is it always a beating?!”
…
Activity room.
Chen Muye, aproned and gloved, carried a fragrant pot of bone soup to the table and set it down gently…
“Gulp.” Hongying’s eyes bulged as she swallowed hard. “Captain, how long since you last cooked? Did the sun rise in the west today?”
Wu Xiangnan smiled nearby. “Still don’t get it? It’s mainly for Lin Qiye; we’re just tagging along.”
“Uncle Chen, you’re biased!” Si Xiaonan puffed her cheeks.
The corner of Chen Muye’s mouth twitched. Expressionlessly he said, “I’m just tired of bento and felt like a change—nothing to do with that kid.”
“Oh, I see.” Hongying’s eyes lit up; chopsticks darted toward the soup. “Then I won’t stand on ceremony, hehe…”
Smack—!
Chen Muye flicked her chopsticks away and said coolly:
“Lin Qiye isn’t off class yet. Everyone waits.”
Hongying: ε(┬┬﹏┬┬)3 Captain, you don’t love us anymore…