In the Car.
Kayden sat in the passenger seat-one of the rare occasions he occupied this position. The reason was simple: the driver was none other than Goldie Alfredson.
This time, Kayden had decided not to engage a chauffeur. He chose to travel alone.
Greedy Wolf was tasked with protecting Wood Faulkner. Once Wood fully recovered, Kayden would personally assist in restoring his memory. As for anyone else? He didn’t see the need for an entourage. This trip would be his alone.
In the driver’s seat, Goldie Alfredson glanced at Kayden, who had his eyes closed and his head resting against the seat, looking as though he were asleep.
Goldie’s gaze shifted to the knife resting on the gearshift. If he picked it up now and quietly drove it into Kayden’s chest, Kayden would surely die.
Taking this devil to his master was bound to bring trouble. Even if his master killed Kayden, Goldie would likely face punishment. On the other hand, if he killed Kayden now, it would save a world of trouble.
The thought weighed on him. His hand instinctively moved toward the knife. Amid the torment of his inner struggle, he gripped the handle and drew the blade. Its sharp edge gleamed coldly.
Gritting his teeth, Goldie summoned his courage, ready to strike.
But just as the blade hovered over its mark, he stopped, his hand trembling. He let out a long sigh and lowered the knife. If this strike didn’t kill Kayden instantly, he would be the one to die. Kayden wasn’t just anyone-he was at least a Grand-level fighter.
Forget it. Forget it! He couldn’t do it. An assassination attempt like this would surely end in his own death.
Sweat beaded on Goldie’s forehead, streaming down as he raised a hand to wipe it away.
As he exhaled in relief, a voice, cold and bone-chilling, suddenly pierced the air.
“Lucky for you, the knife didn’t fall. If it had, you’d already be a corpse.”
The words cut through Goldie Alfredson like a blade to the heart. His entire body broke out in goosebumps.
He turned to look at Kayden, who still had his eyes closed. This meant that even without looking, Kayden knew exactly what had just happened.
Goldie’s blood ran cold. Even in his sleep, this man was untouchable. He silently thanked his hesitation.
“Don’t make any moves,” Kayden said icily. “Maybe then you’ll live.”
“I’m sorry, sir! I won’t-I wouldn’t dare!” Goldie stammered, his voice trembling.
Kayden said no more, his eyes remaining shut as he continued to rest.
—
Hiphia, Whispering Gables Temple.
The temple was a relic of the past, abandoned decades ago. Its surroundings were desolate, overgrown with weeds. The walls were cracked and peeling, evidence of years weathered by time.
The place had been forsaken due to rumors of hauntings. Decades ago, a group of thugs had dragged a young woman here, where they violated and murdered her. Stories circulated of her ghost’s sobbing cries heard by those who came to pray for love.
Inside the crumbling temple, a voice rang out.
“Old man, tell me-who killed my disciple?”
A white-haired elder in tattered clothing glared ferociously at the man before him, who was bound tightly and covered in bruises.
The captive was once a figure of dignity and power, but now he was broken, his body battered and spirit worn.
That man was Coleman.
“It was me. I killed him,” Coleman said, his voice hoarse and weak.
Sterling Harrison’s expression darkened, rage flickering through his eyes. He raised a whip in his hand, the leather cracking sharply as it struck Coleman’s body. His clothes ripped further, a fresh red welt blooming across his skin.
“You old liar! You think I’d believe you? Do you think I’m blind? There’s no way you could have killed my disciple!” Sterling sneered, refusing to believe Coleman could defeat Connor Powell, his own apprentice. He knew all too well the caliber of his pupil.
“It was me!” Coleman insisted, clenching his teeth. He would not involve Kayden in this. This was his matter, and he would bear it alone.
Kayden had enough on his plate and no time for distractions. The last incident hadn’t even been fully resolved-the envoy had been killed, and who knew if border skirmishes would erupt next?
Coleman had lived long enough. If this was his end, so be it.
“Fine!” Sterling Harrison clapped his hands mockingly, calling aloud toward the door. “Bring them in.”
At his command, three figures entered the room-two men and a girl. The girl was held between the two men, her slender frame bound tightly. She wore a white school uniform, paired with black knee-high socks and a short skirt that revealed her legs.
Even bound as she was, her beauty was undeniable.
Coleman’s eyes widened in shock, his pupils dilating.
“You… What are you doing?” he gasped, his voice trembling with newfound energy.
The girl was his granddaughter, Erika.
Though they had been kidnapped on the same day, Coleman hadn’t known Erika had also been taken. Now, Sterling Harrison was making her presence known.
“Grandfather! Grandfather!” Erika cried out, her voice filled with terror.
The two men holding her yanked her roughly, barking, “Stay still!”
Erika, a young girl barely of age, had never faced such cruelty. Though she had some basic training for fitness, she was no match for these seasoned fighters.
“What do you want?” Coleman roared at Sterling Harrison, his voice filled with desperation.
Sterling chuckled darkly, walking over to Erika. He grabbed her and pulled her close, his hands roaming shamelessly over her body.
After a moment, he sneered smugly, “It’s simple. I just want you to watch a little show.”
“To see your precious granddaughter tremble beneath me,” he added, dragging a table closer and forcing Erika onto it.
“No! No! Grandfather, help me! Grandfather!” Erika screamed, her voice breaking with fear.
Coleman’s heart shattered. He thrashed against his bonds with all his remaining strength, screaming, “You beast! Harm me if you must, but leave her out of this! Let her go-let her go!”