Chapter 341: The Executors
Unlike the earlier “sluggish” response to Minjiang, this time the league organizers reacted with remarkable speed. Barely a dozen seconds after Chu Minghe finished speaking, a red holographic warning lit up across the arena. Normally, such warnings only appeared in cases of severe violations—its appearance meant the organizers had already judged Dingchan to be in serious breach of the rules.
At the moment the warning sounded, a powerful extraordinary pressure descended upon the arena, forcing both sides, who had been locked in combat, to halt.
Realizing that the league had effectively declared him “guilty,” Dingchan’s first-year suddenly looked up at the live broadcast camera after stopping.
“I am innocent.”
“I’m merely walking a more correct path—is that a crime?”
“You’re the ones who chose the wrong path. The difficulty of advancement is nothing more than punishment for your mistake!”
He tried to say more, but a referee who suddenly appeared on stage struck him down with a single blow, smashing him into the ground.
“Deluding the masses with heresy.”
“Trying to take shortcuts in the Mansus will inevitably bring backlash. Your current ease is nothing more than borrowing against your future.”
The referee’s words seemed directed as much at the audience as at the offender—warning them not to follow the same path, implying that his lifespan had already been nearly exhausted.
Was that really true?
And how would the referees know?
The match ended in a highly dramatic fashion. Although the referee declared Dingchan disqualified and stripped of all previous results—awarding victory directly to Lian City Academy—no one claimed Lian City had won without effort. After all, their strength had been fully displayed during the match.
Thinking of this, Xu Zhi frowned. No matter how she looked at it, Council Academy’s actions seemed to have anticipated this outcome. They had deliberately showcased Chu Minghe’s strength in 1v1 to shape post-match public opinion, then dominated the team battle without finishing quickly—giving Dingchan the chance to counterattack and trigger that abnormal breakthrough.
This plan wasn’t flawless. Ordinary viewers might not see through it, but would the seasoned figures from other cities—or the league organizers—really fail to notice?
What was the benefit of doing this?
Xu Zhi wasn’t confused—she was analyzing.
By directing suspicion toward the organizers and the Executors, what could the Council gain?
After thinking it through, she arrived at a few possibilities. The most plausible one was this:
All of it was meant to force the Executors to step forward.
After today’s match, public opinion had reached an unprecedented intensity. A crisis of trust in the league had erupted. Discussions about [Cup] and Dingchan dominated the discourse. People were demanding answers—questioning whether the Oath Circuit had malfunctioned, asking where the Executors—absent for years—had gone, and whether they would finally appear to respond.
The Executors were not entirely aloof figures above the world. As representatives of the “gods,” they walked among mortals and were responsible for addressing the problems that arose. They held the authority to shape rules—but they also needed the public to believe those rules were fair, just, and necessary.
The Oath Circuit itself had been constructed with the involvement of a [Winter]-attribute Executor. And now, the Dingchan first-year at the center of the controversy also happened to be of the [Winter] attribute.
This only deepened public suspicion.
Under such circumstances, the organizers could neither remain silent nor offer superficial answers. They had to provide an explanation convincing enough to satisfy the public.
Inside the league committee—
“Damn it! How did things get this bad?!”
“Complaining won’t help—figure out what to do!”
“…Has something really gone wrong with the Oath Circuit?”
“You’re one of us—how can you say that?!”
“But if nothing’s wrong, how could so many issues arise in this tournament…?”
“Are you questioning the Executors?!”
“No, I’m not—don’t put that on me.”
“Enough!”
Someone barked sharply. When the room fell silent, he continued in a low voice:
“At this point, we have no choice but to seek instructions from the Executor.”
“But this clearly isn’t right. Someone is manipulating public opinion—surely to target the Executor.”
The man glanced at the speaker. “And what do you propose? That you take responsibility for all of this?”
The speaker hurriedly shook his head.
“Or do any of you think you can bear this blame?”
The resentment wasn’t limited to the public.
The teams already eliminated from the tournament were equally aggrieved.
If the organizers had identified these problematic teams earlier and removed them, wouldn’t their own standings have been better?
Especially those cities defeated by these two teams—their anger fueled much of the growing outcry.
If this crisis of trust couldn’t be resolved, the league would lose its absolute authority.
And that would mean other competitions might rise to rival it. If even a single city withdrew from participation, it could trigger a snowball effect, gradually eroding the league’s importance.
A great dam can collapse from a single ant hole—but this crisis was far beyond that.
“Go. Seek the Executor. Ask them to intervene.”
The decision was made.
They all knew someone was fanning the flames, driving the situation out of control—aiming directly at the Executor.
But…
The target wasn’t them—it was the Executor.
Why should they bear the burden on the Executor’s behalf?
A conspiracy against the Executor could only be resolved by the Executor. They neither had the ability nor the obligation to do so.
Their relationship with the Executor was not one of loyal subordinates.
It was one of the strong and the weak, of dependence and cooperation—but not loyalty.
The higher one climbed, the narrower the path became, and the fewer extraordinary individuals it could accommodate. At the level of Executor, each attribute had only a single position.
Anything that targeted the Executor—they would merely watch from the sidelines.
Perhaps even…
If an Executor were to fall, then for that attribute, a vacant position would appear.
And at that point, who would care how the previous Executor died?
Everyone would be too busy competing for that newly opened seat.
At this level—above millions, yet beneath the gods—one stood surrounded by enemies. Countless people longed for your downfall, even sought to bring it about.
That was why the one who set this scheme had such confidence.
They could use this situation to force the [Winter] Executor out of the Lost Lands—because they knew others would push things along, or at least go with the flow.
Everyone respected the Executors.
Feared them.
And yet… all secretly looked forward to seeing them fall.
