Valgean narrowed his eyes at the new figures cloaked in black, standing nearly two hundred meters away atop the ridge overlooking the shore.

The Exodus Club—a faction of fanatics obsessed with hunting down anyone marked by a Scar. They enforced their own version of justice, one only they understood.

Valgean knew better; they didn't do this for morality. They did it because it served their interests. And of course, what they did wasn't legal either—they were wanted criminals themselves.

Valgean watched as the robed figures began closing the distance. Once they reached fifty meters, the fight would erupt.

With a quick glance at Tristan, he shoved the map into the hands of the man he'd been gripping earlier. His hairy knuckles crackled.

"Move."

Tristan didn't argue. The moment combat started above the cave, the collapse would accelerate. If they wanted even a chance of survival, they had to hurry.

The members of the Raging Floods Guild dropped into the cave's opening one by one until only four remained: Valgean, Tristan, and two others.

At Valgean's signal, the remaining men dashed uphill. They didn't want to bring the battle down onto the others, so they shifted the confrontation upward. One of the Exodus members cackled,

"Hahaha—how foolish. You're already on the losing side!"

"Seize the old man. Kill the rest. We must know why the others entered that collapsing Cave!"

The two sides clashed at the midpoint, and the fight burst open instantly. Several cuts appeared on Tristan's body.

"Damn…" Tristan hissed as slashes carved across his cheek in rapid, whisper-like streaks—swish, swish!

He barely felt the pain, but the crimson dripping down his face said enough.

And he wasn't the only one. Behind him, members of the Exodus Club manifested semi-transparent weapons—silver half-crescent blades glowing with muted light. A crest of divided ocean waves was etched into each one.

"You stand no chance against us.

Advance!"

Steel clashed. Fists hammered from the sides while blades carved from behind—bam! swish!

The Raging Floods fighters reacted fast, but they were outmatched. Their enemies infused aura into the edges of their weapons, extending each strike beyond its physical length. Even if the blades missed, the razor-thin aura did not.

Valgean, despite his age, moved with lethal expertise. His reactions weren't slower than the younger fighters. A blade skimmed his beard, cutting a few strands, but he twisted back and answered with a brutal side kick—

THUD!

His strike drove the enemy airborne, the grass rippling from the force.

"Ghh—!"

The man vomited saliva, his pupils rolling back until only the whites remained.

Valgean stumbled but regained balance instantly. He cracked his fingers and scoffed.

"Too soft."

Before he could advance, a wet slicing sound filled the air — shk! splatter!

One of their own was split open from stomach to throat. His insides spilled out in a red fountain, the man's fading eyes turning toward Valgean as if accusing him of being next.

Valgean only cracked his knuckles again.

---

Meanwhile, beneath them inside the collapsing cave, panic erupted. Some were already dead, others vomiting uncontrollably, others pinned beneath fallen rock.

When the final two reached the remains of the laboratory, one immediately collapsed and retched. Blood, rotting corpses, exposed bones, organs, and a strange shimmering crystal-like object—everything reeked of death.

It was as if someone had known visitors were coming and erased everything before they arrived.

"Damn it—urgh—this is disgusting! Move! If you don't want to be buried alive, we need proof we at least tried! Valgean will crush us if we return empty-handed!"

—FWOOOM!

A steel beam dropped from the ceiling. One man dove aside just in time. His partner—still vomiting on the ground—was flattened instantly. Left as nothing but human stew.

"Shit! I have to get out—!"

He searched wildly; everything was destroyed. No samples. No equipment. Nothing.

Until he saw it.

A glint of red.

A metal syringe dripping blood.

He'd never seen anything like it. Instinct took over—he grabbed it and fled, desperate to escape burial or becoming paste like his partner.

---

Valgean's fists had turned pitch black—inky, dense, unnatural. The grass behind him was shaved clean, sliced apart. Deep gouges scarred the earth.

He cracked his knuckles again, glancing at Tristan, who was examining something.

"Is it just me, or have aura-users gotten pathetically weak?"

Tristan replied while studying one of the silver weapons,

"Not at all. Their strength was real. Their speed, their aura manipulation—expanding range and lethality—that takes years of training. Their technique was impressive. But—"

He froze.

Because ahead of them lay devastation. A circular patch of land stripped bare. No grass. No soil. Nothing.

Only two legs stood upright in the center.

Just legs.

No torso.

No arms.

Nothing above the thighs.

Everything else had been erased from existence.

The destruction behind them was total.

Valgean absorbed the sight, jaw tight but silent. Slowly, the black faded from his fists.

High above, the last surviving member from the cave nearly reached the exit—but luck abandoned him. The ceiling collapsed fully, burying him. Only his arm stuck out of the rubble.

Valgean bent down and retrieved the bloody syringe from the dead man's hand. He studied it with caution. A strange vial of blood inside—he didn't dare try anything with it. He simply handed it to Tristan.

Tristan examined it with bewilderment.

"It looks like a sewing vial my grandmother used—only this one has a hollow channel in the center, like it pushes the contents outward."

Sunrise washed over the battlefield, illuminating the carnage beneath the ridge. Blood everywhere. Bodies nowhere near intact. The cave entrance sealed—except for that single dangling hand.

Every follower was dead.

Every member of the Exodus Club slaughtered.

Yet the morning light revealed something else—something Valgean hadn't noticed in the dark.

Drops of blood.

Faint.

Trailing.

Leading somewhere.

Tristan noticed Valgean staring and followed his gaze.

The droplets weren't random.

They formed a path.

A trail.

Heading north.

Toward the northern districts of the Royal Capital.

Valgean said in a cold tone:" A rat snuck in from here!" He smiled faintly.

Tristan with a sudden chuckle" Ramon!"

Valgean replied:" Not him you Idiot!"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.