<h4>Chapter 122: Recruiting Volibel</h4>


    “Don’t think too much about it.” John didn’t show much emotion on his face. He just said vaguely.


    Then, he got up and changed his clothes.


    He put on a ck coat and a gray scarf.


    He hid half of his face behind the scarf.


    “I’m going out for a while.” John stood by the door holding a long ck umbre. He looked at everyone and said in a deep voice.


    Then, he pushed the door open and walked out of the room mysteriously.


    In the studio.


    Salefani, Victoria, and Hamlet retracted their gaze from the direction John had left one by one.


    Hamlet continued his training.


    To him, no matter what the most real secret of mankind was, he was only willing to be the sharpest spear in John’s hands.


    Salefani’s mental quality was far inferior to Hamlet’s.


    She was a little dazed, uneasy, and terrified.


    This was a secret that involved the truth of mankind and contained great terror.


    Victoria asked Salefani to sit beside her.


    “Recently, I’ve had a faint understanding of the Dawn Association.” Her voice was warm and powerful as she exined what she knew.


    She slowly consoled Salefani. “In my opinion, the Dawn Association might be the ancestor of human civilization.


    “In the beginning, it led mankind from ignorance to civilization.


    “And now, in this era of Buddhism, Daoism, and the so-called Cultivationless Age, it must have appeared again to fulfill its mission to mankind.


    “Calmly face and participate in this.


    “We should feel grateful that we were chosen to join such an ancient and great existence!”


    …


    John was wearing a ck coat and a gray scarf.


    The long umbre in his hand swayed gently.


    Owain City University, a forest path in the winter.


    John’s eyes were distinct in ck and white.


    asionally, he would catch a glimpse of hurried footsteps and young couples leaning on each other.


    Warmth appeared on John’s face.


    ording to the steps in Foresee, he walked to an old five-story building.


    A wooden sign read: “Owain City University Historical Research Center.”


    He walked in with a creaking sound.


    The light wasn’t dazzling and was very warm.


    He looked up the spiral staircase.


    Rows of bookshelves were filled with information and ancient books met his eyes.


    It was clearly his first time here, but it felt like he had alreadye here thousands of times.


    John walked in step by step, then turned left.


    He walked into a three-story quiet hall.


    On one side was a huge floor-to-ceiling window.


    On the other two sides were three-story bookshelves and books.


    Tables were ced in a row in the middle of the hall.


    He nced at the white-haired old professor, Volibel.


    Sitting near the floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight shone down.


    He was wearing thick sses and was bending his head in front of the pile of documents.


    When John stood on the side of the hall, it was like he had a premonition in his heart.


    Without any warning, the old professor looked up.


    He just a nce, he noticed the young man outside the hall.


    He was about to say something.


    Then, he saw the young man suddenly gestured for him to keep quiet.


    John retracted his index finger from his lips.


    He nced at the steps in Foresee.


    Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.


    He walked into the academic hall.


    There was no sound at all from his footsteps.


    When passing the first middle-aged man along his way who was studying on a history book,


    John opened his broad palm.


    His movements were clean and precise as if he was just gently touching the back of the middle-aged man’s neck.


    The middle-aged man suddenly felt powerless. His vision blurred and he leaned against the table.


    Just like that, John walked around lightly.


    Using his palm as either a de or just brushing past them, the historical researchers allid on their tables and seemed to have fallen asleep.


    John walked over to the wide-eyed, white-haired old professor, Volibel.


    “Mr. Volibel.


    “You are touching the taboo.” John’s expression was gentle as he looked into the old man’s eyes and said calmly.


    “Ta-taboo?


    “They are memories that are hidden in this world and belong to the deepest part of human civilization.”


    The 82-year-old professor looked up, his white hair falling down.


    The afternoon sun shone on him.


    On this warm afternoon.


    John sat opposite the old professor and repeated the steps in Foresee.


    Every word and every sentence was calcted from the cracks in the long river of history.


    It outlined an unfathomable existence.


    As one of the four great historians of Mold Country, Volibel had studied history all his life.


    However, it was precisely because of his deep research that when he heard John mention the events that had happened in the past, he was even more shocked.


    His old face flushed red.


    His old heart pounded!


    “Mr. Volibel, I’ll give you two options.


    “The first choice is for me to erase your memories regarding this.


    “The second choice is to join us,” John said.


    The final choice was destined.


    For some people, achieving their goal was something worth dying for.


    It was also inevitable that there would be ws in this matter.


    But following Foresee’s calctions that was like creating a, all the ws would eventually be made up for.


    At that time, what was fake would be real, and what was real would be fake.


    About 5 PM in the evening.


    Behind him, the eyshes of an unconscious researcher trembled slightly.


    John rose and strode evenly out, leaving quietly.


    Time continued to pass.


    Around 6 PM.


    The sky in Owain City waspletely dark.


    John stood in front of an overpass with his hands in his pockets.


    John’s eyes were burning as he looked at the busy city under the neon lights.


    His brows kept twitching.


    From the steps in Foresee that were rapidly changing and bing more and moreplicated, it could be determined that there was another imprable that had began to weave above Owain City.


    This time, his opponent was no longer the disorganized individuals he faced a while ago.


    John felt oppressed, depressed, and angry.


    He wanted to pierce a hole into this sky, but he didn’t yet have the strength to achieve that.


    Lie low!


    He still needed to lie low!


    One day, those lofty and unscrupulous existences that filled the sky would be dragged down violently by John.


    He walked out of the overpass.


    A ck sedan stopped beside him. John bent down to get in.


    Not long after.


    In the quiet teahouse, Walker from Alexander Corporation and Reinhart, the Godfather behind the scenes who controlled both East and East City, appeared quietly in front of John.