Four in the afternoon.

The northwestern edge of X City, Wutong District.

It was far from the city center, remote, even. Looking east from a high vantage point, one could only faintly discern the silhouettes of the skyscrapers in X City’s core, like a jagged row of grayish-blue teeth against the horizon.

Large groves of silver-leafed trees lined both sides of the road, their leaves shimmering with a faint white light in the setting sun. When the wind blew, the entire street seemed to be blanketed in a layer of fine, drifting snow.

Further off were low-slung, exquisite detached villas, separated by sprawling lawns, flower gardens, and man-made waterways.

The lawns were manicured with precision, and the arcs of water from the fountains fell perfectly into their basins. Under the setting sun, the water and glass windows reflected the light in unison, bathing the entire district in a gentle, honey-colored glow. The streetlights had yet to turn on, but their shades were already tinted with the colors of dusk.

Contrary to what many might imagine, the most wealthy and powerful people in a city do not necessarily live in the most bustling, central, or skyscraper-dense areas.

Many prefer to distance themselves from the clamor of the city.

Wutong District was just such a place, situated on the outskirts of the city, far from the commercial centers and the crowds, the noise, and the decadent opulence.

Yet the price of every square inch of land here was enough to leave those who once looked down on the area utterly speechless. To those who truly understood the value of this land, when the evening sun cast its light upon it, even the soil seemed to glimmer with the hue of gold.

Today, however, that silence, purchased at such a high cost, was shattered…

A building that the residents of Wutong District had long equated with an “abandoned project” had, incredibly, opened today.

—The Silvertree Grand Theater.

It stood silently at the end of the road, like a magnificent palace suddenly awakened from a fairy tale.

The theater was a shimmering silver-white, its exterior walls composed of vast expanses of curved metal and transparent crystals. The outer structure resembled countless interlacing branches stretching upward from the base, ultimately converging at the summit into a massive, abstract silver tree.

Beneath the crown-like dome, warm golden light spilled out from behind layers of glass curtain walls, intertwining with the sunset reflecting off the theater’s surface as if setting the canopy ablaze.

The light from the dome was brilliant and magnificent, invading everyone’s vision with a near-violent intensity.

Though the theater itself remained silent, its visual extravagance imposed a sense of “clamor” upon everyone who beheld it.

Simultaneously, the roads—which were strictly regulated for traffic control and low-noise passage—had lost their customary order and tranquility.

Black, deep blue, silver-gray, burgundy… car after car merged into a motorcade, streaming into Wutong District.

Some were luxury vehicles whose brands ordinary people might recognize but could never afford in a lifetime; others defied categorization entirely, their price tags clearly transcending the very concept of a “car,” judging by the flowing light of the Formulas etched onto their frames.

They surged toward the Silvertree Grand Theater, thoroughly shattering the Wutong District’s natural harmony and bringing with them a restlessness that belonged in a bustling downtown.

Yet, not a single resident here complained.

Even though many of these residents were, in the eyes of the common folk, already powerful, influential, and beyond reach.

But it was precisely those in such high positions who tended to be far more adept at reading the room than any ordinary person.

Fawning over the powerful was their instinct; gauging the wind was their nature.

No one was foolish enough to act like a third-rate villain in a novel, jumping out to flaunt their status only to wait for a more powerful figure to swat them into the dirt.

Especially when some spotted their immediate superior’s vehicle within that sea of luxury cars, certain clever individuals immediately realized—

The true masters of this city were gathering here like a pack of wolves that had caught the scent of blood.

Tonight, something major was destined to happen…

As time passed, the flow of traffic on the narrow road gradually thickened.

Each of these cars would have drawn gazes of awe in the outside world, yet here they were so common they even caused a minor congestion.

But no one honked, and no one cut ahead; everyone moved forward in silent, disciplined order.

Even if the privacy glass obscured the expressions of the tycoons and socialites within, they were likely all smiling quietly, enjoying this “gentleman’s agreement” between members of the same class.

Until—

A black car barged in, the harsh screech of scraping metal tearing through this unspoken harmony.

The ink-black limousine cut in forcefully from the rear of the convoy, unreasonably shoving aside the vehicles on either side as it wove through the narrow flow of traffic with near-violent aggression.

One car.

Then another.

The black car steadily overtook the vehicles ahead.

It was too fast and too reckless.

Slight collisions with the surrounding cars were inevitable.

Yet strangely, no one got out, and not a single person stepped forward to denounce the black car’s insolence. There wasn’t even the sound of a horn.

Because they soon saw the car for what it was—

Across that pitch-black body, an incredible density of silver Formulas had been engraved!

Just how many Formulas were there…? Under the horrified gazes of the onlookers, the light of dozens of complete Formulas pulsed one after another, nearly making their hearts stop!

These Formulas swam along the lines of the car like living creatures. Each one was precisely integrated into the vehicle’s structure, interlacing with the others without the slightest hint of conflict.

Those who knew the craft only had to take one look to feel as though they were trapped in an absurd dream.

Stacking Formulas was not as simple as carving two runes together.

With every additional Formula, the difficulty of maintaining stability increased exponentially.

If even the slightest friction occurred between two formulas, at best, they would all fail; at worst, the moment they were activated, the car and its occupants would be blown into fireworks.

Yet this car, like an intercity train traveling through the Wasteland, had actually managed to have so many formulas etched into its chassis!

And those intercity trains, every single one was built at an astronomical cost and represented the life’s work of countless people.

But this black car, aggressively weaving through the traffic, was merely a private vehicle…

This was no longer just a means of transportation.

It was a mobile fortress disguised as a car.

Only the most established ancient families of District 1 or the most eccentric of the nouveau riche could produce such a thing.

And even if it were the latter, being wealthy to such an extent was enough to inspire awe and fear.

Consequently, everyone overtaken by it fell silent.

Even if their own cars were left with a faint scratch from the black car’s formula barrier, they could only mutter under their breath from within their vehicles:

“Just what kind of powerhouse did the Radiant Foundation invite this time…?”

In this manner, the black car moved “unhindered” along the crowded narrow road, eventually pulling into the plaza in front of the Silvertree Grand Theater.

A large crowd had already gathered in the plaza.

A man in formal wear subconsciously tightened his grip on his companion’s wrist, causing her to frown slightly in pain; several women who had been laughing and chatting gradually fell silent; the movements of a waiter handing something to his master turned stiff…

In an instant, every eye was fixed on that black car.

The car came to a halt, and the driver’s side door opened.

A gray-haired man stepped out.

He wore a black suit, his white gloves spotless, and his long gray hair was neatly tied back. Every movement was impeccable, fulfilling every fantasy the onlookers had of a butler from an ancient family.

He walked around the car to the rear seat, bowed slightly, and pulled open the heavy door.

The crowd held their breath.

They expected to see a senile yet deeply majestic old man, or perhaps a powerful figure capable of shaking X City.

However, stepping out of the car was an excessively young boy.

“Which family’s young master is that…?”

The crowd whispered amongst themselves, only to find that not a single person knew the boy’s identity.

District 1 was too large, so large that no one could say for certain just how many hidden families and powers existed. Perhaps this youth came from one of them.

This unfathomable mystery made the crowd even more apprehensive…