Kayden had heard enough. There was nothing left to say. His goodwill had been taken for granted, mistaken for something vile. It didn’t matter anymore.
He nodded slightly and said, “Fine. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything. And don’t flatter yourself into thinking I have feelings for you. If it weren’t for Mr. Baker, your life and death wouldn’t concern me in the slightest.”
With that, Kayden turned and walked away.
Emma snorted, pouting indignantly. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re just making excuses. You’re obviously stalking me! I hate creeps like you. You’re disgusting!”
After venting her anger at Kayden, she turned to Ryder with an apologetic expression and said, “I’m sorry, Ryder. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have introduced someone like him for the job. It’s ruined your appetite.”
Ryder sighed and replied, “You just trusted the wrong person, that’s all. But don’t worry, I don’t blame you. Just make sure you stay away from him from now on. If he ever ends up staying at your place, be careful. He might spy on you while you bathe or sleep. You can’t be too cautious.”
“Thank you, Ryder,” Emma said earnestly, her face filled with gratitude.
“Oh, by the way, about what you just said… about staying with me…” Ryder suddenly remembered.
Emma’s face flushed red as she lowered her head, biting her lip, unsure of how to respond.
Ryder burst out laughing. “I know you were just joking to annoy that guy. Don’t worry, I didn’t take it seriously!”
For Ryder, winning over Emma in this way felt dull. He wasn’t interested in such a straightforward game. What he sought was excitement, a thrill. That was what he truly needed. Yet Kayden-the one who had disrupted his plans-was a different matter. Ryder would have to deal with him. If it weren’t for Kayden, he might have already succeeded.
With that in mind, Ryder pulled out his phone and made a call. Once the call connected, he spoke in a cold, deliberate tone: “I need someone’s hand cut off…”
Hanging up, he sneered cruelly. “The price for crossing me… is something you’ll regret.”
—
At a Pavilion
The melody of a zither echoed softly, its notes serene and unchanging. Near the entrance stood a burly man, his brow furrowed, clearly lacking the leisure to enjoy the music. He dared not interrupt, however, and instead waited silently for the tune to end.
Minutes later, the music ceased. The man playing the zither slowly curled his lips into a cold smile and asked, “Cyrus, is there something you need to say?”
“Mr. Voss!” Cyrus Nightbane clasped his fists in a respectful gesture, his face alight with excitement. “That man killed the monk!”
“Oh?” Asher Voss responded indifferently. “Didn’t I already say not to act alone? The monk brought this on himself. Did he really think his skills were good enough to take that man on alone?”
Asher showed no surprise, his demeanor calm, as though everything was under his control.
“So, what should we do next?” Cyrus Nightbane asked, a slight crease forming on his brow.
Asher Voss was silent for a few seconds before replying, “Since he’s come to the Western Frontier, let’s play with him a little.”
“Mr. Voss, are you planning to step in personally and kill him?” Cyrus asked, excitement lighting up his face.
Asher chuckled darkly. “No, there’s no need for me to step in. You’ll do.”
At these words, Cyrus’s brow furrowed slightly, but moments later, his entire face lit up with excitement. “Mr. Voss, are you finally letting me take him down? My axe has been itching for a fight. I’ll make sure to kill him with my own hands.”
“Oh, by the way,” Asher said casually, “I heard you lost another disciple?”
Cyrus nodded, his expression darkening. “Yes, another one was killed by that man. It was his doing again.”
“Tell me, how exactly did your disciple die?”
Cyrus hesitated for a few moments before replying. “A few days ago, I told my disciples about the Innate Spiritual Core and asked them to keep an eye out for anything related to it. One of my less impressive disciples claimed he knew someone like that-his own cousin. So, he went to find her. By chance, he encountered that man… and then he was killed.”
“Wait,” Asher Voss said, his gaze slowly shifting to Cyrus. His face was strikingly handsome, his skin smoother and paler than a woman’s. He didn’t look a day over thirty. Yet his voice carried a wisdom and weight that made him seem far older.
“What did you just say? Innate Spiritual Core?” Asher’s brow furrowed.
Cyrus nodded. “Yes, the Innate Spiritual Core. But my disciple wasn’t anyone important. There’s no way he could’ve known someone with such a rare trait. He was just trying to impress me. The Innate Spiritual Core is incredibly rare. There’s no way someone like him could know a person like that!”
“Ridiculous!” Asher suddenly snapped, his voice filled with anger. “So, you didn’t send anyone to investigate that woman?”
Cyrus froze for a moment before answering, “No.”
At this, Asher raised his hand and pointed at Cyrus in fury. “Cyrus, have I not taught you anything?”
Terrified, Cyrus immediately dropped to one knee. “Mr. Voss, I just thought the Innate Spiritual Core was too rare. My useless disciple couldn’t possibly have found someone like that. Besides, he said the woman had a scar on her face and was quite ugly. How could someone like that be the Innate Spiritual Core? I-”
“Enough!” Asher interrupted sharply.
“I’ve told you before: if there’s even the slightest chance, you must never let it slip by! The Innate Spiritual Core is too important. Since that man appeared there and killed your disciple, it’s likely he’s also discovered traces of the Innate Spiritual Core. We mustn’t take any chances. Send someone to capture that woman. Whether or not she’s the Innate Spiritual Core, I’ll have the master confirm it!”
Cyrus hesitated briefly before nodding. “Understood.”
“Good. Get it done. I want results,” Asher said, his tone brooking no argument.
Cyrus, trembling slightly, responded obediently and left the pavilion.
Asher’s face filled with excitement. “The Innate Spiritual Core! If I can obtain it, I’ll secure the position of Chancellor. Then, the world will bow before me.”
He spread his arms wide. A sudden gust of wind swept over him, and his once-youthful face began to wrinkle, aging rapidly as if decades had passed in mere seconds.
As his laughter echoed through the pavilion, the strings of the zither behind him snapped, one by one, with a resounding twang.