Kayden seated himself on the stone bench opposite Hawthorne Eastwood, his tone cold and indifferent. “Too many voices. You’ll do,” he said.
As his words landed, the five Sovereigns around them collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
In a single strike, Kayden had annihilated five powerful Sovereigns-an act that shattered Hawthorne Eastwood’s understanding of the world.
Raising his head, Hawthorne Eastwood locked eyes with Kayden. In those young, unyielding eyes, he saw an endless ocean of killing intent.
It wasn’t the first time Hawthorne had seen such emptiness in someone’s gaze. The first was in Asher Voss. Both men’s eyes shared the same void, filled with boundless violence. Simply meeting their gaze was enough to feel the suffocating weight of their murderous aura.
The sheer intensity of this young man’s killing intent left Hawthorne Eastwood shaken.
“Speak. Who sent you here to wreak havoc? Talk, and you’ll live. Stay silent, and you’ll end up just like them,” Kayden demanded coldly, his voice as frigid as ice.
Hawthorne Eastwood inhaled deeply, then replied, “No rush. Let’s have some tea first.”
With that, he raised two fingers and flicked a full cup of tea toward Kayden.
Kayden caught the teacup effortlessly and, with just two fingers, crushed it to pieces. “Let’s skip the small talk. I’m not a patient man, and my mood hasn’t been great lately. If you don’t talk, don’t bother wasting my time. In fact, if you stay silent, you won’t be talking ever again,” Kayden said bluntly.
At his words, Hawthorne Eastwood’s expression twisted in terror. There was no doubt about the truth in Kayden’s threat. The corpses on the ground were proof enough.
Still, Hawthorne wasn’t entirely without confidence. He had cards to play.
Feigning composure, he shook his head and said, “No, you won’t kill me.”
“Oh?” Kayden’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. Hawthorne seemed far too confident.
“If you kill me, you’ll be making an enemy of Elysium Gate,” Hawthorne explained. “Elysium Gate is one of the four great sects of Seclela. Crossing Elysium Gate means crossing Seclela itself. Have you considered the consequences of that?”
He continued, “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Seclela’s Defender Kayden. I’ll admit, you’re young and accomplished, with death trailing in your wake. But if you’ve heard of him, you’d know just how insignificant you really are.”
“Defender Kayden’s name shakes the world. His rusted blade hanging at the border keeps countless invaders from stepping into Seclela. If you think you’re capable of dealing with me, go ahead. I won’t resist.”
Hearing this, Kayden couldn’t help but chuckle. Was this man trying to scare him with his own name?
A faint smile tugged at Kayden’s lips as he tossed his rusty blade onto the marble table. “You mean this blade hanging on the city wall?”
Hawthorne Eastwood’s eyes filled with doubt as he studied the blade. He’d never seen the infamous weapon before, but the rust and wear on this one suggested it had witnessed countless battles.
And this youth-he looked to be around twenty-five or twenty-six, the same age as Defender Kayden.
Could it be? Was this man the very Defender he’d just spoken of?
Hawthorne Eastwood’s gaze turned frantic as he stammered, “Who… who are you?”
“I am the Defender Kayden you just mentioned,” Kayden said plainly. “The one whose name shakes the world.”
The words hit Hawthorne Eastwood like a hammer to the chest. He felt the world spinning around him.
His once-proud confidence crumbled. The man he’d tried to intimidate was the very legend he’d been boasting about. What was this, digging his own grave?
As Hawthorne’s shock rendered him speechless, Kayden pressed on. “Since you know what it means to oppose this nation, and you know my reputation, let’s cut to the chase. Tell me-who sent you to commit these crimes? Speak, and I’ll spare your life.”
“Of course,” Kayden added, his tone growing colder, “you can choose not to talk. But I’ll find out eventually, and you won’t live long enough to regret it. You know what happens to those who stand against me. Perhaps you’ve heard of The Nightshade’s fate?”
Hawthorne Eastwood’s pupils contracted sharply.
He swallowed hard, his face pale, but then, as if by sheer force of will, his composure returned.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You won’t kill me. If you do, Elysium Gate will sever all ties with you. Defending the borders is one thing, but Elysium Gate is one of the four great sects. If you kill me, they’ll be enraged. The four sects are united. If they join forces against you, do you think you can handle them?”
Kayden shook his head slowly, his gaze icy. “These words mean nothing to me. I’ve given you enough chances. You can die now.”
As he spoke, a chilling aura filled the room.
Hawthorne Eastwood opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a frail, elderly voice echoed through the air.
“Kayden, stay your hand!”
The voice’s arrival was accompanied by the sudden appearance of an old man descending from a nearby building. The man moved like a phantom, his presence commanding.
As he landed, Kayden’s rusty blade was deflected mid-flight, clanging harmlessly to the ground.
Kayden looked up sharply. Standing at the door was an elderly figure clad in flowing white robes, his hair cascading like a silver waterfall over his shoulders. Despite his age, his face radiated vitality, his demeanor serene and unshakable.
The old man’s movements were effortless, like those of an immortal. With a casual wave of his hand, he had neutralized Kayden’s attack.
“Who are you?” Kayden demanded.
The old man stepped closer, his voice calm but commanding. “People call me Godefroid.”
Though the words were simple, they carried the weight of a tempest, as if the name “Godefroid” held countless untold stories.
“Master Godefroid! You’re the legendary Godefroid of the Cultivator Associate!” Hawthorne Eastwood exclaimed, his earlier composure replaced by the excitement of meeting his idol.
Kayden, however, remained unimpressed. He didn’t care who this man was. To him, titles and reputations were meaningless.
“You may be Godefroid, but I don’t care who you are. Stay out of my business,” Kayden said grimly.
Godefroid shook his head. “You may not know me, but I know you. You’re Eldridge’s disciple.”
Kayden froze for a moment. This was the second time he’d heard that name-Eldridge. The first was at Dragon Hold Resort, where an old stargazer had asked him if he knew Eldridge.
Could it be? Was the man who had passed his skills onto Kayden this Eldridge?
Seeing Kayden’s silence, Godefroid continued, “There’s no need to doubt. Your master is none other than the one they call the Chosen of Heaven-Eldridge.”
“Take my advice. Don’t kill him. His death will only bring you endless trouble.”
Hawthorne Eastwood, emboldened, chimed in smugly, “Exactly! I told you, even as the Defender, you can’t kill me. You’ll only bring trouble upon yourself. Ever heard of Asher Voss? You can’t beat Asher Voss!”
“Asher Voss,” Kayden repeated, his tone flat. Then, without hesitation, his rusty blade flew once more.
With a sharp whistle, the blade pierced Hawthorne Eastwood’s heart.