The next few days passed in an eerie calm, like the breathless pause before a storm. Steven Blake moved with a quiet intensity that unnerved even those closest to him. Despite no outward threat surfacing, he refused to let his guard down. Deep within the Rosewood Hotel, a private room had been transformed into a miniature command center. General Adams and his elite Special Ops unit had arrived covertly, masquerading as part of the security detail, caterers, and even guests. Every inch of the hotel had been wired and watched. Cameras, drones, heartbeat sensors—Steven had upgraded it all, leveraging his system's technologies with the efficiency of a general.
Fourteen Special Operatives had been embedded in the staff, most disguised as waiters, bellboys, and janitors. Others were seated among guests, their appearance tailored to blend seamlessly with the elite attendees. The entire Rosewood was a trap waiting to be sprung.
The day of the Medical Conference dawned crisp and bright. The sun shone over Charlestown, casting long beams across the Rosewood Hotel's glass façade. Outside, luxury cars rolled in, each delivering a high-profile guest. The nation's most revered minds in medicine, pharmaceutical giants, and biotech visionaries all converged on the venue. Camera crews waited behind velvet ropes, journalists jostled for position, and security stood at every corner—most of them, unbeknownst to anyone else, elite operatives with orders to shoot on sight.
Steven arrived last, stepping out of a black Rolls-Royce wearing a three-piece suit and silver-framed glasses. He looked every bit the youthful CEO—charming, genius, enigmatic. But beneath the calm surface, his system pulsed with urgency.
[Super Growth System X Rich Lord System— Task: Prevent the terrorist attack at Rosewood Hotel during the Medical Conference. Reward: 10,000 SP | $1 Billion USD | Ownership of Apollo Research Institute of Medical Science and Pharmaceutical | 3 Lucky Draws | System Upgrade to Level 3]
Steven inhaled deeply and pulled up his system panel with a subtle mental command.
[SUPER GROWTH SYSTEM]
Host: Steven Blake
System Level: 2
Stats:
Strength: 50
Agility: 50
Stamina: 50
Intelligence: 75
Charisma: 70
Luck: 170
Cultivation: Cultivator
Mana: 1000
Force: 1000
He had spent the past nights cultivating like a madman, his body aching as he broke through to the Cultivator stage. His martial arts had reached Expert level. He could bend steel with a punch, leap several stories, and sense movement in blind darkness.
Today, it would all be tested.
Inside the grand ballroom, chandeliers bathed the hall in golden light. Gentle piano music played. Waiters moved fluidly between guests. General Adams, dressed in a tailored tuxedo, raised a glass in honor of the medical heroes seated around him.
Then the microphone sparked to life.
"Ladies and gentlemen," began Dean Malcolm Wraith, a towering figure in a white coat and glasses, from one of the most prestigious hospitals in Manhattan Province. "Today we honor not just innovation in medicine, but the heroes who carry it forward. You are the torchbearers of hope and life. As the world faces crises—from pandemics to warfare—it is in rooms like these where the future is rewritten."
Applause rang out.
Then it happened.
The lights flickered.
The music stopped.
And then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the east wing of the hotel. Screams erupted. Shards of crystal and smoke filled the air.
Within seconds, the Special Ops team activated.
"Alpha team to perimeter! Beta, hold the exits!" Adams barked through his comms.
Steven bolted to the nearest staircase, already shedding his jacket. He leapt down two flights, kicking open the security panel behind the emergency generator.
"Engage internal defense protocols," he muttered.
The screen before him responded immediately:
[ROSEWOOD SECURITY INTERFACE]
Emergency Mode: ENGAGED
Main Entry: Locked
Loading Bay: Secured
Rooftop Access: Sealed
Fire Doors: Activated (Auto Seal Enabled)
Floor-by-Floor Lockdown: LIVE
Threat Detection Overlay: ON
[Live Feed]: 12 unauthorized entities detected in Service Tunnel 3B [Access Route]: Loading Dock → Maintenance Corridor → Ballroom Service Door
Steven swiped to the hotel map—a grid pulsed red with 12 fast-moving blips converging.
"They're coming in through the lower service routes!" he warned.
Outside the ballroom, masked men in tactical gear burst through smoke grenades, brandishing assault rifles. One fired into the ceiling. Another grabbed a prominent doctor, dragging him to the center.
"Everyone down! Nobody moves!"
But before the second terrorist could even finish shouting, a tray flew through the air and hit him square in the jaw. A waiter dropped the platter and spun into a martial arts stance. Another removed a silver serving dome—revealing a suppressed pistol.
General Adams smiled coldly.
"Gentlemen, I believe you're lost."
The ballroom transformed into a battleground.
Fourteen undercover Special Operatives unleashed hell.
Terrorists exchanged fire with elite agents. Guests screamed and dove under tables. Smoke and bullets filled the air. The elite soldiers fought with ruthless precision—disarming, incapacitating, and eliminating threats in a seamless dance of violence.
Steven moved like a ghost through the chaos, his system enhancing every motion. He dodged bullets with inhuman agility, striking pressure points and disarming foes. But then—
CRACK!
A sniper round tore through his shoulder.
Steven stumbled back, crashing through a glass door.
Blood gushed from the wound. His vision blurred. The pain was intense, but he gritted his teeth and whispered, "System... initiate minor healing."
[15 SP deducted. Wound stabilized. Bleeding reduced.]
He staggered to his feet.
Just then, two terrorists entered the hallway, guns aimed.
Steven ducked behind a pillar.
He waited... then lunged.
BAM! BAM!
Two swift punches. One man flew into the wall. The second dropped unconscious.
He dragged himself to the ballroom. Adams caught sight of him.
"You're bleeding like hell. Get down!"
Steven grinned weakly. "I'm good. I'm not done yet."
Just then, an explosion rocked the roof.
"They're trying to breach from the top!" an agent yelled.
Adams cursed. "They're coming for the VIPs. Steven, can you hold the third floor stairwell?"
"With pleasure."
Upstairs, Steven stood alone at the landing. Four terrorists burst through.
He let his aura surge. His eyes glowed faintly.
"Cultivator Stage. Force Enhancement: On."
He became a blur.
One punch sent a man through a wall. He parried a knife with his forearm, grabbed the assailant, and used him to bludgeon another. A boot to the chest crushed ribs. The last man dropped his weapon and tried to run—but Steven threw a pen that embedded itself in his knee.
Back below, the fight wound down. Several terrorists surrendered. Others were knocked unconscious.
A final explosion at the parking lot drew everyone's eyes. Two agents barely survived. Steven staggered outside and saw a van ablaze.
He collapsed.
Darkness.
The Next Morning...
A sterile white room.
The scent of antiseptic.
Steven blinked.
"He's awake!" a nurse called.
Veronica rushed in, eyes red, holding his hand. "You idiot... You scared me to death."
Steven gave a pained smile.
"I told you I'd protect everyone."
General Adams entered, arms folded.
"You almost died, kid. But you did it."
A system ping echoed in Steven's mind.
[Mission Complete] Reward: 10,000 SP | $1 Billion USD | Apollo Research Institute Ownership Acquired | 3 Lucky Draws Unlocked | System Upgrade to Level 3 Initiated...
Steven exhaled.
"Bring on the next level."