The Omnipotent System

The old man's eyes shifted to Jack, who was busy arguing with Awar. "Get lost, you lazy demon; you weren't even needed here in the first place," Jack said, dismissing Awar's request to return to his sleep. The old man couldn't help but focus on their casual exchange, his mind racing with the realization of just how little these powerful beings regarded him.

Before he could dwell on it further, Adams snapped his fingers, instantly pulling the old man's attention back to him. The sinister grin still playing on Adams' lips made it clear that he was in full control of the situation, leaving no room for the elderly man to regain any sense of authority.

The old man, still frozen in place, could do nothing but stare back at Adams, his fear growing with each passing second.

"I don't recall taking away your ability to speak," Adams remarked, his gaze locked onto the old man's trembling form. The coldness in his voice sent a shiver down the elder's spine, amplifying the fear that already gripped him.

The old man's lips quivered as he tried to find his voice. "P-please, Sect Master," he stammered, desperation clear in his tone. "Forgive my earlier words; I didn't know who I was dealing with. I beg of you, show mercy. I was wrong to challenge you, wrong to disrespect your esteemed sect."

Adams said nothing, his eyes narrowing slightly as the old man's pleas grew more frantic.

"I'll do anything! Anything you ask, just spare us this time. It was a mistake—a grave mistake. Please, look past my foolishness," the elder continued, his voice cracking as he bowed his head as much as he could in his paralyzed state.

"Have mercy, great Sect Master!" he pleaded, his voice breaking into a pitiful sob. The dignity and arrogance he had shown earlier were now completely gone, replaced by sheer terror and regret.

The younger man, Alan, watched in horror as his mentor groveled before Adams. He could feel his own fear rising, realizing just how powerless they truly were.

"That's not quite what you were saying earlier," Adams remarked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Weren't you talking about a master-to-master conversation, not groveling at a master's feet?"

His words cut through the air like a blade, causing the gathered crowd to erupt in laughter. The disciples snickered, but it was Jack who laughed the loudest, his boisterous laughter echoing across the area, adding insult to the old man's already deep humiliation.

The old man's face flushed with a mixture of shame and fear as the laughter washed over him. His earlier bravado was shattered, leaving him with no choice but to plead further.

"Please, Sect Master, I spoke out of turn," the old man begged, his voice trembling. "I did not understand the situation. I beg you to overlook my disrespect. Spare us—spare me."

His voice grew more desperate with each word, the arrogance he once displayed now completely replaced with sheer panic. He could feel Adams' eyes boring into him, judging his every word, his every action. The younger man, Alan, looked on with wide eyes, unable to believe that the elder who had once seemed so powerful could be reduced to this state.

Adams remained silent for a moment, letting the old man's pleas hang in the air. The sinister grin on his face only widened as he watched the man before him grovel.

"You're quite the talker when your life's on the line," Adams finally said, his tone icy. "But I'm not convinced. What makes you think I should just let this go?"

The old man's breath hitched, and he quickly bowed his head further, his voice growing hoarse. "I'll do anything! Anything you ask—just please, have mercy!"

The disciples looked on with a mix of disdain and satisfaction, knowing that their Sect Master was a force to be reckoned with. Jack's laughter had quieted, but a wide grin remained on his face as he watched the scene unfold. Even Awar, usually so detached, seemed mildly interested in the old man's pitiful display.

Adams tilted his head, as if considering the man's offer. "Anything, you say?" he mused, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

The old man nodded frantically, desperate to escape the fate he feared was closing in on him. "Yes, yes! Anything at all, just spare us!"

Adams' laughter rang out with a cruel edge, a wicked thought clearly playing in his mind. He turned his gaze toward Alan, who stood frozen, eyes wide with fear.

"Did you hear what your master said?" Adams taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "He's willing to do anything to spare your lives. What do you think of that?"

Alan met Adams' gaze with a steely defiance, his fear turning into stubborn resolve. "Go to hell," he spat out, his voice steady despite the terror in his eyes. "I don't fear you. If my master has to beg, that's his problem, not mine."

Adams' laughter cut off abruptly, and he looked at Alan with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, his tone shifting to one of cold interest. "But courage alone won't save you."

The old man's face twisted in panic as he looked at his apprentice, his pleas growing more frantic. "Alan, stop! Please, don't—"

Adams ignored the old man's desperate cries, his focus solely on Alan. "You're quite brave to speak like that in this situation," he said slowly, stepping closer to Alan. "But bravery without power is just foolishness."

Alan's defiant stance didn't waver, even as Adams loomed over him. The disciples around watched with a mix of curiosity and disdain, their earlier laughter giving way to a tense silence.

Adams considered Alan for a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the old man. "I think your apprentice has made his stance clear," he said with a smirk. "Now it's up to you to decide what happens next."

The old man's shoulders slumped in defeat, his face pale and stricken with anguish. The weight of the situation was crushing, and he could only hope for a miracle as he awaited Adams' final decision.

"Since the student refused to listen to reason, it seems fitting that the master should teach him a lesson."

This chapter upload first at NovelBin.Com