Chapter 68: Stellar Envoy · Referee

"Pathetic. I actually thought you'd last until the end—figured you must’ve been the strongest among them. Turns out, you just chickened out. Weakness isn’t just in your power—it’s in your courage. That’s why you didn’t go first."

On the glowing shoreline, Tian Dao stared at Wiser’s bloated, three-meter-tall beast form with a look of utter disbelief. As the last survivor of the Dark Star Four, Tian Dao had expected either exceptional strength or deep psychological cunning from him. After all, in the original story, Wiser was the only one of the four who didn’t die.

But the truth? Tian Dao couldn’t tell if Wiser was truly sinister or not. One thing was certain—on the battlefield, Wiser was the weakest of them all.

Wiser’s Stellar Source ability allowed him to produce vast quantities of specialized medical concoctions and perform limited self-augmentation. But in essence, it was merely a low-tier version of a Stellar Prodigy—so weak it wasn’t even a proper copy. And even a basic Stellar Prodigy wouldn’t stand a chance against Tian Dao. A knockoff like Wiser? He was laughable.

So, the only reason Wiser had survived this long? Pure luck.

Meanwhile, the dimension viewers watching the screen were in full riot over Tian Dao’s bored, cocky demeanor.

"Bro, maybe it’s not that he’s weak—maybe you’re just too strong?"

"Blackmail! I’m reporting this! If Tian Dao weren’t a supporting character, these four should’ve lasted two or three episodes! How’d they get wiped out in one?!"

"Hey, you’re the one leaking your inner fanboy—just look at your IP! It’s from Chengdu!"

"Best representation of Chengdu stereotypes yet."

"Male mom, please leave—this isn’t your space!"

"Actually, you should be the ones leaving, male mom!"

"Everyone calm down, just give me a little peace, okay?"

As the chaotic stream of comments exploded into a full-blown internet war, the scene cut to the resort hotel—back in time, just one minute earlier.

Unlike Tian Dao’s dazzling one-on-four showdown on the beach, where he dominated like a true champion, the situation inside the hotel was far less glamorous.

Thanks to Tian Dao’s sudden, scene-stealing performance, the script had gone off track.

In the original timeline, Rongshan and the others had split up, taking turns confronting Chen Kong and his allies. Only Yingzhi · Lina had stayed hidden—waiting in the shadows to silently snatch Isabelle, setting up a classic "damsel in distress" moment.

And just like in every classic story—when the princess is in peril, the white knight arrives.

Chen Kong, the hero, was supposed to burst in at the last second, his hidden power flaring as he effortlessly dispatched Rongshan. Then, just as Isabelle was fully trapped in Lina’s shadow prison, Chen Kong would appear—breaking through with his Void Pattern and rescuing her from darkness.

A true heroic rescue. A moment that would plant the seeds of romance between him and Isabelle.

But now? All that had changed.

Instead of splitting up, the Dark Star Four had bunched together—charging Tian Dao like a group of low-level NPCs spawning on the side of the road. They didn’t last a single minute. One swipe. One punch. Gone.

No drama. No tension. No villainous flair.

The Dark Star “clowns” had been erased in seconds.

But the real tragedy? The hero’s spotlight was stolen—again.

Because in this altered timeline, the production team had done something truly reckless: they’d thrown in a Second-Rank Stellar Envoy.

Not some random hack. No—this was a real member of the Stellar Envoy Association.

One minute earlier, outside the resort hotel.

"Kong, take Isabelle and go—now."

In the hotel lobby, Chen Xing scanned the empty space around them. With no one else in sight, she drew her Yao Dao, assuming a defensive stance.

Just moments ago, tourists and students from Trelan Junior High had fled to the resort, seeking shelter from the oceanic Stellar Beast controlled by Yi Yi · Wiser. The lobby had been packed.

But now? It was eerily empty—only the four of them remained.

That was… wrong.

Before she could finish her order, a soft chuckle echoed from the center of the hall.

"Ah, excellent athletes. You really don’t have to rush off so soon, do you?"

"The match—our match—has just begun."

Chen Xing didn’t hesitate. She slashed forward, unleashing a blazing sword slash of pure flame. The crimson fire streaked through the air, engulfing the figure who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

But the fire vanished—before it even touched him.

A wave of invisible force dispersed the flames like mist.

From the fading embers stepped a man in a black-green referee uniform, wearing a ridiculous husky-shaped mask. He spun a Yellow Card lazily between his fingers.

As he stepped toward Chen Xing, the mask lifted slightly, revealing a smug, self-satisfied grin.

"Unprovoked attack on a referee. Warning: Yellow Card."

He raised the card high.

The moment he did, Chen Xing felt it—a crushing weight descend upon her. Her body grew heavy. Her Star Energy slowed, as if wading through mud.

Just one card—just one Yellow Card—had drained her strength by roughly a third. That was insane.

Before she could react, Isabelle gasped, disbelief flashing across her face.

"Wait… Yellow Card? Referee… Stellar Envoy Association · Second-Rank Referee · Goen… Why are you here?!"

Goen didn’t flinch. He wasn’t surprised.

Second-Rank Stellar Envoys in Deep Blue Metropolis were rare—each one known by name. And Goen’s Stellar Source—Arena Referee—was so distinctive, it was hard to miss.

So Isabelle recognizing him? Expected.

But Goen feigned innocence.

"Ma’am, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m just a passing official doing my job."

"Impossible—you are—"

"Audience, please remain silent. Loud noises are prohibited during matches."

Before Isabelle could finish, Goen’s voice cut through the air like a command.

And just like that—she was silenced.

But not everyone was unaware of Goen’s identity.

Kalolin watched him, her electronic cat eyes flooding with data streams as she cross-referenced information.

After a moment, she spoke.

"Stellar Envoy Association · Second-Rank Referee · Goen.

Stellar Source: Arena Referee.

According to public records, Goen’s ability allows him to designate a region as an official competition zone.

He can categorize individuals into spectators, contestants, and coaches, then expel all others.

However, whether he can freely set match rules, alter content, or adjust time limits remains unverified—no data available."

"Wow. Impressive. I didn’t expect a cybernetic cat to be this thorough. You’ve done your homework. Planning a big score, huh? You’ve got the makings of a real bookmaker."

Goen wasn’t fazed. His Stellar Source was special—devastatingly effective against anyone below his rank.

Anyone with a lower Stellar Envoy level had to obey his rules. Break them? Penalty—like the Yellow Card Chen Xing just took.

If the opponent was equal in rank? They’d have to compare their base Stellar Energy Value. Lower? Still bound by his rules. Higher? They got a Freedom—a custom advantage.

But if the opponent was higher in rank? Too bad. Goen could only control the venue. The rest of the power belonged to them.

Why? Because while referees could decide matches, real influence came from outside—capital.

And in the end, "black cards" meant nothing compared to "black money."

So Goen never invited higher-ranked Envoys into his arena—unless absolutely necessary.

And that’s why, despite his shady reputation, he remained one of the few 100% mission-completion-rate members in the Stellar Envoy Association.

His nickname? "Pond Killer."

It wasn’t a flattering title—but Goen loved it.

After all, the Association’s salary was barely enough to buy ramen. Why risk his life?

"Goen," Kalolin pressed, "as a member of the Stellar Envoy Association, you’re now interfering in local power struggles. Do you really not fear disciplinary action from above?"

Goen chuckled, adjusting his husky mask.

"Fear? If I feared, I wouldn’t be taking bribes."

"And without bribes, what kind of life is a referee’s? Just watered-down soup."

He didn’t deny it. He boasted about it.

As if being a corrupt referee wasn’t shameful—but a badge of honor.

Go all in. Take every penny. No regrets.

Kalolin was speechless.

She’d never met someone with a face like that—except maybe Tian Dao.

But the viewers? They were laughing.

Goen was bizarre, absurd, and utterly hilarious.

The husky mask. The deadpan delivery. The black comedy of a man who openly admitted to being a cheat.

It was comedy gold.

"HAHA! You’re openly calling yourself a crooked ref? Goen, I’ll give you credit—your face could rival Hakiten’s!"

"Even as a villain, you’re way more entertaining than those four clowns!"

"Bro, our national team needs a ref like you!"

"Could’ve just announced the result—but you actually showed up? Wow, what dedication!"

"Tian Dao: Hold on, coach is warming up—he’ll be here soon!"

Chen Kong and the others were in trouble.

But the viewers? They weren’t worried.

Because even though Goen’s timeline ran parallel to Tian Dao’s, the beach battle had already ended.

Tian Dao was coming.

And when he arrived?

The chaos would end.

That wasn’t blind hope. It was faith—built on every single time Tian Dao had saved the day.

But until then?

Chen Kong would suffer.

And judging by Goen’s utterly shameless behavior?

The suffering was going to be fun.

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PS: Please support with your monthly votes! After this little scene, I’ll sweeten the pot for Kalolin. Then the entire Deep Blue arc will finally wrap up.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end