A low, eerie sound echoed through the air, vague and distant, like the guttural bellow of an old ox.
As the sound reverberated, a fierce wind swept across the marble square of The Nightshade. Though the square was made of solid stone, it had gathered leaves and dust over time. In an instant, the area turned into a whirlwind of flying debris, a chaotic storm of howling winds and ominous chills.
At the edge of the square, an elderly man with a long beard stepped forward. His narrowed eyes glinted, and he murmured two words under his breath:
“He’s here.”
The atmosphere turned tense, and the hearts of everyone present clenched. All eyes shifted toward a distant point, where a man and a woman were rapidly approaching from the base of the mountain.
Though far away and blurry, Mags recognized him immediately.
“It’s him,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
The figure was unmistakable-too distinct, too extraordinary.
Once the disciples gathered at the square caught sight of the man, a collective sigh of relief swept through them. The tension dissipated, replaced by confusion.
This… was the great enemy of The Nightshade?
It felt as though they had worried for nothing. The figure approaching was far from what they had imagined.
The man looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six, but his gaunt frame and sallow complexion made him appear frail. His clothes were tattered, and he seemed as though a strong gust of wind might blow him away.
For the disciples, the enemy they had braced for should have been a mighty force-a grand army, or at the very least, a towering figure descending on clouds of radiant light. Instead, what arrived was a man who looked like he had crawled out of a beggar’s den.
This… this was beyond disappointing.
And to make matters worse, this man had brought a woman with him. She was beautiful, no doubt, but her presence only added to the absurdity.
“Did he bring a woman to The Nightshade as if it were some kind of vacation?” a disciple scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery.
“This is ridiculous. Is this guy insane?”
“Or maybe he’s just a tourist who got lost.”
“Didn’t you see the blade in his hand?”
The snickering continued.
Kayden, however, had deliberately chosen not to bring his helicopter all the way to The Nightshade’s square. He had left it stationed at the base of the mountain. There was no need to use weapons or manpower to deal with The Nightshade.
He had promised to let them prepare, and he intended to keep his word.
If he obliterated The Nightshade using military force, the news might reach Hellblazer, but it wouldn’t make much of an impression. However, if he singlehandedly wiped out The Nightshade, it would be an entirely different story. Hellblazer would be shocked, and that was precisely the reaction Kayden wanted-a message, a warning, a prelude to what awaited them.
To Kayden, The Nightshade was merely a stepping stone. Hellblazer was his true target.
Kayden and Lucy soon arrived at the stone steps leading to The Nightshade’s square. Climbing the stairs, they entered the gathering space.
Their arrival was underwhelming, to say the least. The disciples of The Nightshade felt no sense of urgency or danger. In fact, they were thoroughly disappointed.
They had expected something dramatic, perhaps a display of overwhelming power. Instead, this man had chosen to walk.
Standing on the square, Firestone’s elderly companion burst into laughter and turned to Mags.
“Mags, is this the man you were talking about?”
He studied Kayden carefully, his face full of disdain. The man before him was nothing more than skin and bones, dressed in ordinary clothing. Such a person, capable of destroying The Nightshade? The thought alone was laughable.
Mags, however, held a firm gaze and nodded.
“Yes, he’s the one. That’s Kayden. I’m certain of it. Don’t underestimate him-he’s more dangerous than he looks.”
The elder shook his head with a condescending smile.
“Mags, your naivety is astounding. This man? Destroy The Nightshade? You must be joking. You insult us with such a suggestion!”
Another elder chimed in, pointing at Kayden’s weapon.
“Look at that! He’s carrying a broken blade!”
The moment the comment was made, the disciples couldn’t hold back their laughter.
A broken blade? The absurdity of the situation grew. Not only was the man a walking skeleton, but his weapon was just as pitiful.
Firestone stood with his hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of unshakable confidence. His expression was calm, regal, like a king observing a lowly emissary. His very presence radiated dominance, the weight of his aura crushing all opposition.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Firestone’s laughter rang out, echoing through the mountains. The sound was chilling, spreading like a wave of thunder.
The disciples of The Nightshade felt their spirits soar, their confidence reignited by their master’s commanding presence.
But Mags remained uneasy. Her eyes were locked on Kayden’s broken blade.
To everyone else, Kayden was a fool marching to his death. But to her, he was a man who had come with nothing but absolute confidence.
He was either insane or terrifyingly capable.
“This is The Nightshade?” Kayden’s voice broke the tension. It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air with a sharp, penetrating force, reaching everyone on the other side of the square.
The elder beside Firestone responded with a booming voice.
“Yes, this is The Nightshade! Are you the one who dares to claim you’ll destroy us?”
Kayden nodded slightly and replied without hesitation.
“That’s right. It seems you’ve already prepared yourselves for death.”
“Ha!” The elder let out a sharp laugh. Waving his hand dismissively, he said, “I’ll give you one chance to walk away from here alive!”
“You’re giving me a chance?” Kayden’s tone held a hint of surprise.
“That’s right. But you’ll leave the woman behind. She’ll stay here to serve us as a slave.”
Lucy’s heart sank at the words. The Nightshade was as vile as ever, unchanged in their cruelty.
For a moment, doubt flickered in her heart. She wasn’t entirely sure if Kayden could succeed. But his calm, unwavering demeanor was infectious.
Stepping forward, Lucy raised her voice and shouted at the elder.
“Jon Krohn! Look at me closely-do you recognize me?”
Jon Krohn squinted, stepping forward. The woman seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
Lucy smirked. She knew why.
Years ago, when she had escaped The Nightshade, she had sought out Thousand Face, a legendary figure renowned for his ability to alter appearances. Unlike ordinary plastic surgery, his technique reshaped a person’s face entirely, creating a new visage on top of their existing features.
It wasn’t cheap-Thousand Face’s services were impossibly expensive, out of reach for most. But Lucy had paid the price to ensure her survival.
Now, her face was unrecognizable to The Nightshade.