Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat - Chapter 640

Chapter 640: Sixty-Eight Names Exposed

“Shatterstar, emerge! Engage Stealth Shield!”

Ethan waved his hand.

Vwoom…

The colossal Shatterstar Mech materialized in midair. In the same instant, a transparent, shimmering light spread outward, enveloping the entire hundred-mile stretch of sea.

Ethan figured that since Celeste had mentioned the Memory Wipers, there was no harm in letting these ordinary people witness something extraordinary. Still, Shatterstar was enormous, and its sudden appearance would surely draw the attention of satellites orbiting Earth. So he immediately activated the Stealth Shield.

A wave of gasps and shouts rippled through the crowd.

“Ah!” someone screamed.

“Holy cow… a Gundam!” another cried out.

Terror quickly gave way to awe. They had been frightened by the monsters, but the sight of this gleaming, high-tech marvel lit up their faces with fascination.

“Quiet down, everyone,” Ethan said, his tone light. “Impressive, right? If there weren’t so many of you, I’d probably use this thing to fly you all home.”

The crowd exchanged confused glances. Many frowned, unsure why he had suddenly summoned such a machine. The faces of the agitators, however, turned pale. They had no idea who Ethan truly was—or what kind of power he held. Owning something like this was beyond imagination. They’d heard of Energy users before, but this was on a completely different level. This was the stuff of science fiction.

“Shatterstar, project the collected data. Enlarge it—show everyone.”

Ethan’s lips curled slightly as he glanced toward the group Kiara had pointed out.

Bzzzt…

The giant eye of the Shatterstar Mech, hovering high above, lit up and began to project a shimmering display of light and shadow.

[File One: Jean…]

The mech’s mechanical voice echoed through the air as a four-dimensional image materialized before the crowd. The scene zoomed in on Jean—the man standing right there among them.

“W-what?” Jean stammered, instinctively taking a step back. The scene on display was all too familiar, and he already knew what was coming.

The projection showed a cozy coffee shop in a bustling district. Jean sat by the window with a manila envelope resting on the table, glancing outside as if waiting for someone. Moments later, a beautiful woman walked in and took the seat across from him.

“Here’s what you wanted,” Jean said, sliding the envelope toward her.

The woman smiled faintly as she picked it up and opened it. Inside were three neatly printed A4 sheets.

“Excellent,” she said. “The money you requested has been deposited into your account.” She tapped her phone a few times.

Jean’s phone chimed almost immediately. He pulled it out, checked the screen, and his eyes widened.

“Wait—why is it double?” he asked, surprised.

“The extra is for your cooperation,” the woman replied smoothly. “You’ll also be taken by our people. As for why… well, you’re a smart man. I think you already understand, don’t you?”

Jean froze, his expression tightening. “What? I have to be taken too? That… that won’t be dangerous, will it?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe,” she assured him, her tone calm and persuasive. “I’ll make sure our people know your situation. The others on that list… their survival isn’t guaranteed. But this is just a precaution. If he manages to rescue you all, it’ll only serve to pressure him further. Once enough of you demand compensation, the law can’t punish everyone. Do this right, and you’ll earn another bonus. Isn’t that worth it?”

Jean hesitated, lowering his head in thought. After a long moment, he exhaled, sat back down, and finally nodded.

[File Two: Paul…]

The projection blinked out and, without pause, Shatterstar began to queue the next file.

“It’s fake! It’s all fake! This is a fabrication!” Jean shrieked, his voice cracking. “If you won’t pay us, fine—but why are you slandering me?”

Nobody believed him. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the display; no one in that crowd was foolish enough to think the projection was a forgery.

Jean felt the weight of those gazes like heat. Sweat beaded at his temples.

“Even if the video is real, that list is just my client list. It has nothing to do with any of you!” he cried, digging for a lie.

Ethan laughed, a short, cold sound. “Shatterstar, replay File One. Change the camera angle and enhance the list.”

The image snapped back into view from a new perspective—one that showed the A4 sheets the woman had pulled from the envelope in perfect detail. The enhancement cleared any doubt: the names, character IDs, and addresses were now crisp and legible.

“Jean! You sold me out too! We’ve been friends since we were kids!” someone shouted. The man who had tried to silence Jean earlier slammed his fist into Jean’s face. The crack of the blow cut through the stunned silence.

A man who had been agitating with Jean before stared at him with murderous disbelief. “Captain… it was you all along. For two days you told me to demand compensation, and you leaked my information.”

The crowd turned on Jean like a pack. Hatred, fear, and betrayal rushed through them in equal measure.

“Hold on, everyone. There’s more. Let’s finish watching,” Ethan said, his voice calm and authoritative.

Files continued to play, one after another.

[File Sixty-Six: Ouzzane…]

[File Sixty-Seven: Summer…]

[File Sixty-Eight: Felix…]

When File Sixty-Eight finally ended, the island sat under a heavy, dark silence. Sixty-eight people stood together, trembling, their faces pale.

Shouts erupted.

“You animals!”

“You sold our lives for money!”

“You knew we were going to die and you still sold our information!”

“I regret it! I regret listening to him and trying to cause trouble for the Boss!”

“I’ll kill you! I’ve been with you seven years, and you tried to get me killed!”

One woman stooped, picked up a rock, and flung it at one of the accused. The stone struck hard, and someone else screamed.

“Kill them!” a voice called.

“Kill!” the cry multiplied until it was one voice from thousands.

The crowd surged forward.

The sixty-eight scattered, screaming for mercy. Their pleas dissolved in the roar of the mob; a few hands caught at them, dragging, pushing, beating.

Leo, Victor, Williams, Celeste, and Emery moved instinctively to intervene.

“Ethan—stop!” they yelled.

Ethan raised a hand and held them back.

“Boss!” someone shouted.

“Get them out of here!” another voice pleaded.

“Someone’s going to die if we don’t stop them!” they all cried.

Ethan looked at the chaos and smiled—not a friendly smile, but a measured one. “Energy users have good and bad among them, and ordinary people are the same. The Ninth Division can handle Energy users directly. But ordinary people answer to the law. Can this be exposed? Can they be punished by the law?”

His words landed like a stone. The implication was clear: the sixty-eight were not just traitors in the court of public opinion; they were compromised in a way that could be proven, investigated, and prosecuted.