"Ginya."

"You got it!"

Ginya immediately hauled the shameless woman away,

straight to the back room,

and with a thud, tossed her onto the bed.

Such rough handling caused the woman's leather armor to take a beating and accidentally come loose...

This made Ginya's expression even more murderous, hissing venomously:

"How revolting!"

What a godawful sight—if the master had seen this, would he...

Well... thank the gods I moved fast and protected the master's innocent soul!

Ginya felt relieved,

then posted up by the window, taking on guard duty.

In the main room,

after temporarily dealing with that woman, Carlos called in Purple Vortex from outside.

Two of the three Dark Purple Force Fields drifted over to Carlos first.

"Figured they'd end up like this."

Carlos shook his head slightly.

Those two Shadow Hammer Servants trapped tight in the Dark Purple Force Fields were stone-cold dead now—bulging eyes, mushy flesh, disgusting and bone-chilling.

Shadow servants have a suicide protocol when missions go south or they get grabbed by powerful enemies and can't break free. Keeps them from spilling Shadow Hall's location.

"Shadow Hall..."

Taking down Shadow Hall completely won't be a cakewalk.

As lurking vipers, they won't show their hand early, making them impossible to nail down.

"Power, more raw power."

Only when his own strength built up enough could he find an excuse to move personally and guarantee total success.

"Where'd you dig up that pile of junk?"

Carlos's cold gaze swept over the third Dark Purple Force Field.

The desperate black-robed man inside, like a drowning rat grabbing for driftwood, eagerly replied:

"My... my lord, that pile of stuff was buried in some wasteland in the central Samana Grasslands, nothing special about the spot.

I... I'll definitely take you there!"

The black-robed man spoke rapid-fire, establishing his worth in just a few sentences, looking at Carlos with hopeful eyes.

He prayed to every god he could think of—

If he could walk away from this alive, he would definitely... definitely keep his damn mouth shut from now on!

Only now did he realize how true the saying "keep your head down, stay breathing" really was!

Carlos nodded, and the Dark Purple Force Field faded away.

The crushing pressure on the black-robed man suddenly lifted, and he collapsed to the ground, face full of relief.

"Thank you, my lord! My lord, whenever you want to go, I'm ready..."

The black-robed man never wanted to return to that nightmare of being frozen solid, eagerly showing his value,

being as respectful as humanly possible.

"Find a room to babysit him."

Carlos ordered a Shield Guard to keep an eye on the black-robed man.

Now wasn't the time to go hunting for those ruins.

Before that, he had to figure out how to get his hands on the sacred relic the centaur tribe worshipped.

That was the key to cracking open the ruins.

...

Late night,

at the centaur settlement,

Carlos wasn't sleeping—he was scheming.

How to use legit reasons to snag their sacred relic from the centaur tribe.

Suddenly,

his nose twitched, catching a whiff of rot.

Boom!

Vicious winds suddenly kicked up, making the windows rattle like chattering teeth.

Many centaurs and merchant caravans camping here looked toward the windows.

"Wind's picking up?"

"Hell of a wind!"

People in the merchant caravans, facing the sudden hurricane, weren't spooked, just confused.

"Huh?

At this time of year, shouldn't the Samana Grasslands be way before hurricane season?"

Folks outside quickly ducked into buildings, while centaurs inside slammed doors and windows shut, taking cover from the hurricane.

But Carlos deliberately walked outside, with Purple Vortex and Ginya flanking him like bodyguards.

He looked toward where the hurricane was coming from, a faint stench of decay hitting his face mask with the wind.

"It's the Twilight Cult."

This rot smell was unmistakable, only spreading when seriously powerful Twilight Cult members got down to business.

Carlos pieced together the cause and effect.

"Even though Roderick got found out and executed by the centaurs,

the intel about the sacred relic already got passed along."

However, in his memory, the Twilight Cult didn't make their move until several years down the road.

Now...

...

"Master, over there, two powerful auras are going at it hard."

Ginya held the front, looking toward the hurricane's direction with a grim expression.

The other retainer Purple Vortex took the chance to beat its chest with a clanging sound,

"Roar!"

I'm ace at protecting master!

From both retainers' reactions, Carlos quickly figured it out:

"Controller-level throwdown."

Only Controllers would make both retainers this edgy.

The hurricane gradually closed in on the settlement, with howling sounds getting louder. Carlos put away both retainers and spread his Crimson-gold wing bones behind him,

riding the storm.

In this hurricane weather, Carlos was in his element.

The Crimson-gold wing bones behind him easily rode the wind's power, lifting his whole body into the air, flying at breakneck speed toward those two powerful auras...

...

At the edge of the centaur settlement,

a bunch of humans wearing dusk-yellow robes had waxy faces and looked at others like they were staring at corpses.

In front of them, centaur guards glared with murder in their eyes, spears gleaming cold in their hands.

The hunched old centaur chieftain's cloudy old eyes were now crystal clear.

"Twilight Cult, what the hell do you want?"

This group was indeed the infamous Twilight Cult among the backstabbers.

From among the waxy Twilight cultists,

a man stepped forward, also wearing a dusk-yellow robe, but different in that he had a dim yellow mark on his forehead.

"Tsk tsk tsk, we've been made."

The man's eyes suddenly went ice-cold, thick decay rushing toward the centaurs.

The old centaur chieftain's eyes blazed as he roared,

"Like hell you will!"

His hunched body suddenly straightened, powerful blood energy erupting upward, instantly blowing away the rotting aura and shielding all the centaurs.

The sneak attack bombed, but the man showed no disappointment, instead grinning:

"Don't get your panties in a twist, we've got a surprise for you."

He stripped off his robe, revealing his waxy upper body.

The man's torso had several gruesome faces stitched onto it, twisted and sick—some regular humans, some human subspecies.

Especially the horse face sewn on his left chest, clearly from the centaur tribe.

"Tsk tsk tsk,

come say howdy to the old chieftain."

As he spoke, that gruesome horse face suddenly opened its eyes, making a weird sound,

"Tsk tsk tsk, I'm finally back!"

Among the centaurs, someone recognized it and snarled:

"That's Roderick's face!"

"What! Wasn't Roderick executed?"

"Damn it, this is pure desecration!"

For a moment, everyone was seeing red.

The old centaur chieftain suddenly realized something, his face turning ugly as sin.

"Old chieftain, cat got your tongue?

Don't you welcome me back?"

Suddenly, that horse face went ballistic,

"Back then you said you'd pass the chieftain spot to me,

year after year, why won't you just croak!

Why won't you die!"

The horse face screamed in complete meltdown, features twisting.

"Enough!"

The old centaur chieftain's nostrils flared with hot air, and with a thunderous roar, his raging blood energy transformed into a snarling dragon, charging forward.

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