Walking on the road, Garon was also thinking about the recent changes in his mentality.
In such a normal world, there was no existence that could threaten him. It was rare for him to feel completely relaxed.
This world did not have any special energy similar to totem power, so those who practiced supernatural powers could only rely on their own strength to influence and destroy. This kind of destructive power was extremely limited, and it was extremely difficult to have any large-scale effects.
Garon had lived here for so long, and he more or less understood the situation here. The density of this world seemed normal on the surface, but it was actually very high.
Whether it was the density of the air, the density of the stones and soil, or the density of the bodies of living creatures. The effect of the high density was that, compared to the previous worlds, it was very difficult to have an exaggerated destructive power of individual force.
This was because it was very difficult to destroy all kinds of material environments. Destroying matter, which was the binding force between particles, required a very large amount of energy, which was incomparable to the previous two worlds. The result of this was that the same level of strength would be weakened here. But there was also an opposite good side. This kind of world could easily produce more powerful and higher level life forms.
Garon guessed that the high-level upper-level Blood Breeds or Death Apostles of the Blood Breeds could be such existences. To be able to live for thousands of years without dying, such existences were extremely rare in the Secret Technique World and the Totem World. Compared to the Totem World, the threshold of longevity here was obviously much lower.
In a high density world, it was naturally easier for quantitative changes to produce qualitative changes, reaching a higher level.
Garon suddenly became more interested in the mysteries of this world. Until now, he had only come into contact with cannon fodder level existences like the Vampires. As for the real Blood Breeds, he had never come into contact with them.
As he walked towards the Combat Society Arena, Garon recalled the description of the Blood Breeds from the Vampires he caught in Grano.
Maybe he really did get what he wanted.
Beep beep beep beep messages rang again. Garon took out his phone and looked at it. It was Baldy.
"Captain, I heard a piece of news, or rather a rumor …"
Garon's heart skipped a beat. He stopped in his tracks, and quickly replied under the street lamp.
"Speak."
Soon, there was another reply.
"According to the insider, the Blood Breeds seem to be having an internal conflict."
"Internal conflict?!" Garon was stunned. "You mean … the Light Party and the Secret Party?!!"
"Yes, that's the one. It's said that the Secret Party has gathered a large number of foreign forces this time, preparing to fight for the control of the American Light Party. The Light Party's current power seems to be greatly affected, but I think that old man might just be talking nonsense." Baldy obviously did not believe it at all.
Garon fell into deep thought.
The American Light Party represented the forces of the Blood Breeds that leaned towards the human side. They had always been relatively friendly to humans and viewed themselves as evolved creatures of the human race. However, the Secret Party was different. These Blood Breeds viewed humans as livestock and food. Once they took over, the world of ordinary people in the United States might be affected and thrown into chaos.
"Also, there might be some clues about the cross." Baldy continued to send messages. "It's said that a batch of antiques were found in a cemetery in South Africa. The people there call it the Stone Clock of Fortune. It's said that it can bring good luck to people."
"Send someone over to try to auction one. Do you have enough funds? "Garon replied.
"No problem. There are a lot of them. We have enough money in the group." Baldy agreed readily.
Every time the members of the Nighthawks received a mission, 30% of the funds would be transferred to Garon's account as his guidance fee. Of course, if they encountered any troublesome problems, Garon would come forward to solve them.
For the Nighthawks who were bound to Garon by the Secret Skill, such an outcome was considered very generous. Moreover, they had the strongest leader as their backer. In addition to the powerful Secret Skill that they had learned, no one had any complaints. Perhaps even if they did, they would not dare to show it because they could not leave the Secret Skill.
"Also, you can start recruiting external organizations." Garon thought for a while and typed a reply.
"Understood."
The core members of the Nighthawks were more or less there now. With this as their backbone, it was inevitable that they would form an external mercenary organization to expand their influence and take over territory. However, this process would definitely be obstructed by other forces with their own territories. When the time came, it would depend on the methods of both sides.
Garon put down his phone and stood where he was, thinking for a while.
It was not the first time that the two Blood Breeds had a civil war. However, every time it happened, it would cause a large number of casualties.
Compared to the Secret Party, the Light Party treated humans much more normally. However, it did not mean that they would care about the lives of unrelated people.
"However, these are still far away from me for now. I just need to focus on recovering and increasing my strength." Garon touched his chin. "Right now, the only way to increase my strength quickly is to look for potential points. The Stone Clock of Fortune …"
After thinking for a while, Garon temporarily put this at the back of his mind. He would let Baldy and the others scout the way first.
He continued to walk towards the combat club's venue.
After walking leisurely for more than half an hour, there were already a few people standing in front of the entrance of the slightly old hamburger-shaped grey building. They were all members of the combat club who were wearing the black uniform of the combat club and had placed a notice board at the entrance.
Garon stood far away at a school bus stop sign at the corner of the street. He looked at the combat club's movements and did not go over immediately.
After waiting for a while until it was almost time, he slowly walked towards the Oriental restaurant on the right side of the combat club.
The restaurant was completely white and looked like a round teacup. It was bright and white inside. There were some yellow-skinned Oriental students and a small number of white and black students. Business seemed to be good.
Garon found a seat in the corner and sat down. He ordered a cup of green tea and a plate of fried rice.
Looking at the combat club's entrance through the floor-to-ceiling window, Garon recalled the plan from before.
However, it seemed that the plan still needed his strength to reach an extremely high level or even completely recover before it could be carried out. Otherwise, when facing those mysterious Blood Breeds and witches, the current him might not be able to handle a few of them.
The main reason for having more manpower was to ensure the safety of his own people. Sometimes, when he was unable to split himself, some forces would be able to gain a lot of convenience and would not have to do everything personally.
Soon, the fried rice was served. The fried egg was golden yellow, and there were some chili powder and fennel seasonings. It tasted strange. However, Garon finished a large plate of fried rice with just a few mouthfuls of the green tea. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. He stood up to pay the bill and walked towards the combat club.
A few people at the entrance of the combat club seemed to have recognized him immediately. One of them hurriedly turned around and ran in, obviously to call for help.
The remaining two club members showed a hint of envy, fear, and disbelief in their eyes. They just stood there and watched him walk over.
Ignoring the two club members, Garon went straight through the bulletin board and entered the old dance classroom.
The wooden planks that were destroyed previously had been repaired. There was even an extra layer of flexible foam-like material on the surface. The entire dance classroom was turned into a black floor.
A group of people were gathered in the middle of the classroom, surrounding a black boy like stars surrounding the moon.
Among the group, behind the black boy stood Vice-President Jamie, Quentin, Serena, and three other people that Garon had not seen before. There were a total of six or seven people. Behind them were the club members in black with white spots on their bodies. There were about thirty of them.
The group of people had a clear hierarchy. First, there was a very strict hierarchy.
When Garon walked through the door, dozens of gazes were instantly directed at him. Some were scrutinizing him, some were suspicious, but most of them were just ordinary sizing him up.
"You're here." Serena spoke under her sister Quentin's signal. "The president heard about your battle results last time and decided to come and see you personally …"
"I'm here this time to leave the combat club." Garon suddenly interrupted her.
"What?!" Serena was shocked. She was not the only one. Quentin and the others had a slight change in their expressions. Even the black president was surprised and confused.
"I'm completely uninterested in a combat club made up of a bunch of weaklings …" Garon opened his hands and made a helpless expression. "You're all too weak. I can't bear to hurt you too much."
"You!!"
The club members around him were furious, but they were immediately held back by someone.
The entire place was silent. Some of the club members' eyes turned cold. Some of them started to move their muscles and bones, making cracking sounds.
The president, as well as the five team leaders and vice presidents of the elite group, had a bad look on their faces.
"You're just lazing around every day. Occasionally, you'll play some trashy training like playing house. Tsk tsk tsk …" Garon laughed scornfully. "I came here with great expectations. I didn't expect …"
Young people's anger could not be provoked easily. As expected, after a few sentences, the breathing of the people around him became heavier.
They did not act out immediately because of the original dignity of the president and the team leaders of the elite group. However, it was obvious that everyone was extremely dissatisfied.
"If you were the president, how would you train?" The black president suddenly spoke. There was anger in his eyes as well, but it was obvious that he was suppressing it more.
"Me?" Garon did not expect him to say that. "No matter how many chicks there are, they can't beat an eagle. Only a big rooster that grows up to be aggressive might be of some use." He originally planned to provoke the little fellas in the club to see if there were any good seedlings among them. However, it was obvious that the other party had good self-control. He was able to resist the urge to make a move.
Perhaps this provocation was mixed with a little of his bad taste. He did not expect the effect to be so unsatisfactory.
"Garon, what do you mean by saying these words on purpose?" Serena spoke. She knew Garon's original personality. She was the one who interacted with him the most.
Garon glanced at her. "Would you believe me if I said that I'm just bored?"
Serena opened her small mouth and did not know how to continue the conversation.
At this moment, the black boy walked forward.
"I'm about to leave the school and implement it. According to the rules, the president's position can only be held by the strongest person in the club. If you're not happy with the situation in the combat club, then you can go up on stage and change it according to your wishes. What do you think? "
Garon was surprised that the president did not get angry after such provocation.
"You have good patience." He put away his previous scornful tone and glanced at all the members of the elite group.
The quality of this group of people was good. Although they were suppressing their anger, no one interrupted the president's words.
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