Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize

— Switzerland - Syndicate Union HQ —

On the executive floor of the Syndicate Union, Loki sat at his desk, reviewing a thick stack of files. Piles of evidence had been gathered by his subordinates, all focused on one target—Daniel. The documents primarily detailed information about the people close to Daniel, especially his confidantes.

Among the findings, the report on Daniel's adopted daughter stood out. Two whole squads—snipers and infiltrators—were stationed in the shadows around her whenever she left Daniel's residence. In plain sight, two more individuals took turns guarding her.

The first was an emotionless man, rumored to be some kind of robot disguised with human skin to blend in more effectively. The second? Heracles—the legendary hero from Greek mythology. After consulting with a mage family well-versed in the history of the gods and reviewing old records, Loki confirmed this was not a homunculus or a replica of Heracles. It was Heracles himself, in his original body—a feat achievable only through the Vatican's Resurrection Ritual, which could summon heroes from the past in times of need.

However, Loki was certain that the Vatican wouldn't perform such a ritual for any mage organization, let alone resurrect Heracles, as the souls of these famous Greek heroes were under Hades' control. Only three explanations made sense:

Hades permitted Heracles to be resurrected.Heracles had somehow escaped the Underworld and was then revived by someone else.Whoever resurrected Heracles was powerful enough to tear his soul from Hades' grasp, ignoring any divine interference.

The first scenario seemed plausible, but Loki, being a god himself, knew better. Gods never acted without personal benefit, and whatever that benefit was, it had to align with the god's interests. Daniel and his associates weren't Hades' worshipers, making it unlikely Hades granted permission.

The second scenario was even more far-fetched. The idea of Heracles escaping the Underworld and being coincidentally resurrected by someone was so improbable that Loki dismissed it outright.

That left the third and most disturbing possibility: someone in Daniel's circle was powerful enough to forcibly resurrect Heracles, ripping his prized soul from Hades' domain. Although rare, there had been instances in history where mortals surpassed gods in power—Merlin and Solomon being prime examples.

As unsettling as it seemed, this explanation carried the most weight, given the evidence.

Loki stood up and walked toward a hidden section of his room, where a white wolf lay in a glass tank. The wolf, resembling an alpha, exuded an aura of fierceness even in its dormant state.

Loki's gaze rested on the wolf, filled with a mix of guilt, self-blame, and a surge of anger tempered by repressed frustration. "Son... you'll be able to live, and no one will judge you for what you are. You'll live a life without anyone telling you not to. I promise!" he said with unwavering determination.

— Qing Empire —

In one of the secret realms, where the sky bloomed with a shimmering hue of bright blue, legendary creatures like Kirin, Qunpeng, and firebirds roamed freely. Immortals dressed in traditional hanfu flew through the air on a myriad of mounts, from Kirin and dragons to flying swords and even flying turtles.

At the foot of a towering mountain, before a colossal stone plaque inscribed with "All Heaven Sect," an old man knelt. His clothing was ragged and dilapidated, but a closer look would reveal it to be a golden robe—the symbol of the Emperor. Yet, here, in this realm filled with immortals and mythical beings far beyond the power of mortals, the title of Emperor meant little.

The old man endured countless humiliations—spat upon, derided, and taunted—yet bore it all with steadfast resolve. His sole motivation was the survival of his dynasty. He had been living off the meager rations he brought with him, and his last provisions had run out three days prior; he was now on the brink of collapse.

At that moment, a young man descended from the stone steps leading down the mountain and approached him. Clad in a white hanfu, he looked to be in his early twenties.

"Ancestor..." the old man murmured, gazing up at the figure before him.

The young man's face held no warmth, only disdain as he looked down at the old man and spoke.

"Ancestor? …If I remember correctly, you're just a half-blood of my dynasty. Your ancestor dared to sully our bloodline, and you dare to seek my help with that impurity flowing through your veins? Was it not your ancestor who destroyed my dynasty!?" he spat, his words sharp with anger, before spitting on the old man's face.

Indeed, Tianhao Wenzhong, the current Emperor of the Qing Empire, bore the blood of both the Manchu and Han—specifically, that of the fallen Ming dynasty. But to this seemingly young immortal, the so-called "ancestor," Tianhao was nothing but a loathsome half-breed.

If not for the laws of the Heavenly Palace, which forbade immortals from interfering in the mortal realm, he would have descended to eradicate the Manchu armies himself.

"Please... Ancestor, if not for me, then for the sake of the Han descendants still living under the Qing Empire," Emperor Tianhao Wenzhong pleaded.

"For whom? Those traitors? Even without descending, I know most Han have already migrated to Long Xin Island. All that remains in your half-breed empire are traitors and more half-breeds. Why should I care if they live or die?" the ancestor retorted coldly.

"Please…" The Emperor reached inside his ragged robe, pulling out a wooden box crafted from golden wood, and opened it to reveal a jade hairpin. Offering it up, he kowtowed before the ancestor, blood staining the stone pavement in front of the plaque.

The ancestor initially ignored him but then took the jade hairpin, losing himself in thought as he examined it. This hairpin had belonged to his daughter, who remained in the mortal world. He channeled his spirit qi into it, searching for any trace of resentment.

But instead, he saw only the peaceful memories of a happy young girl, cherished and protected by a prince from the Manchu. A glistening tear escaped his eye as he remembered his past.

He had left the mortal world for this secret realm to preserve his daughter's happiness, never expecting the laws of the immortal world would prevent him from returning to help her.

"Blood for blood. Emperor Tianhao Wenzhong, your ancestor obliterated what was left of my Han and Ming dynasty. I cannot exact my revenge on your ancestors, but the sins of the forefather are also the sins of the descendants." The ancestor's gaze bore into the Emperor, his eyes a mixture of rage and melancholy.

"End your life, and I will aid your empire." He gave the Emperor a final, unyielding ultimatum.

"Gladly!" With his last words, Emperor Tianhao Wenzhong slammed his head into the stone pavement. As blood pooled, his soul slipped from his body, and his eyes closed, his regrets and duties finally laid to rest.

The Ancestor wanted to stop the Emperor, expecting Tianhao Wenzhong to hesitate, even if just for a moment. But he had never imagined that this half-blood would be so determined and decisive. Instinctively, he reached out, wanting to prevent what had already occurred.

"It seems… that half-blood is still the blood of my dynasty," he murmured.

He closed his eyes, a glistening tear tracing down his cheek as he looked up at the sky where mythical creatures and immortals roamed. His heart stirred with melancholy, reflecting on the past. He carried a deep regret—a regret that, bound by the laws of the Heavenly Palace, he had been unable to aid his mortal descendants.

But now… much has changed. Rumors circulated that the Heavenly Emperor had met an untimely end, stirring ambition across the immortal realm. Many were testing the boundaries, sending pawns to the mortal world to meddle in earthly affairs. And, notably, those with a bit more power faced no punishment.

Few understood why this rule had originally been imposed, and fewer still questioned it; they simply obeyed the laws enforced by the powerful. Now, with the enforcer of those laws seemingly gone, who would compel the ambitious and mighty to abide by them?

There is a saying: "Peace is enforced, not born." Truer words have never been spoken. Without the power to uphold it, the law loses all meaning.

Now, many powerful beings have been assassinated, dying in a single night. The struggle for the Heavenly Throne has begun, as none within the Heavenly Palace seem concerned with the mounting chaos in the immortal world. Duels, killings, and cycles of revenge unfold daily, reminiscent of the ancient days before the Heavenly Palace controlled the immortal realm.

Though immensely powerful, the Ancestor was still not at the top of the pyramid in the immortal world. He could be considered a god, yet on a scale of 1 to 100 in power, he hovered somewhere around 70 to 75. It seemed wise to retreat to the mortal world for a time, letting the turmoil settle before resuming his place.

"It seems the immortal world is on the brink of turmoil… Perhaps this is my chance to descend to the mortal world and aid the descendants of my dynasty," the Ancestor murmured.