Ryne halted, his gaze sweeping the group.
The Tracker's Polar Wolf crouched low, ready to pounce. The Iron Guard with sword and shield stepped forward, shielding the team. The Sorcerer fell back, preparing to cast.
The Ranger drew his twin swords into a defensive stance.
This squad—three mid-rank Superhumans and one caster—was elite among Longsand hunters. No one underestimated them.
Now indignation showed on their faces.
To them, Ryne was provoking. His sudden question and provocative tone made clear he thought nothing of them.
Ryne kept eyeing the Ranger, brow slightly furrowed.
The man still looked baffled and puzzled, but Eye of the Soul saw otherwise: his soul color shifted rapidly, clashing with his innocent facade.
Ryne had noticed earlier.
The others reacted normally, but this Ranger's soul stirred with clear hostility at the sight of him.
Ryne had feigned ignorance, continuing to butcher the panther while observing and pondering.
He was certain he'd never met this Ranger before, much less wronged him. Such strong malice could only stem from outside forces.
The Ranger's spiritual flame was ordinary—no evil god follower.
Thus, the Ranger and his backers were likely from Longsand.
Ryne wasn't one to wait for a strike. If someone harbored ill intent, he wouldn't let it slide.
"Still not talking?" Ryne asked again. Seeing irritation flicker on the Ranger's face, he shook his head and muttered, "You'll talk."
The words barely faded when he surged forward.
"Attack!" the Tracker shouted, reading Ryne's intent. He loosed the arrow. His Polar Wolf, as if reading his mind, leaped ahead.
Fweet!
The arrow became a barely visible black streak, instantly reaching Ryne. He swung to deflect it, but the arrow veered midair, dipping low to strike his chest.
Thorny Storm Armor flared, blocking it.
Crack!
Sparks flew. The arrow pierced the armor and leather breastplate but stuck fast against skin, unable to advance a centimeter, and shattered.
Ryne was mildly surprised—the Tracker was an excellent marksman.
No time to dwell—the Iron Guard charged in Charge, figure looming.
The Guard thrust his shield forward, aiming to knock Ryne down with impact force.
Standard, effective Iron Guard tactic.
But next instant, the Guard felt like he'd hit a rock. Immense counterforce shattered his shield. Several electric discharges paralyzed him.
A hand punched through the shield remnants, grabbed his breastplate, and flung him aside.
The Iron Guard offered no resistance. He crashed into the Polar Wolf; both tumbled, stunned and battered, unable to rise.
Flinging the Guard, Ryne activated Charge to dodge the Tracker's second arrow.
Dozens of Air Blades rushed to meet him, forming a barrier.
The third-level Sorcerer's spell.
Ryne ignored the slicing blades, burst through, and appeared before the Ranger.
"Morion, watch out!" the Sorcerer yelled.
The Ranger named Morion paled. Retreating deftly, he whirled his twin swords into a blade storm.
Clang! Clang!
Both swords snapped.
Morion's eyes widened in terror. He spun and fled. As a fourth-level Ranger specialized in speed with two agility elements, few mid-rank Superhumans could catch him if he ran.
However, after running just a few meters, he heard an air explosion behind him. A powerful shockwave knocked him off his feet.
Reyn picked up a sword fragment and, grabbing the Ranger by the collar, lifted him to his feet.
Seeing this, the Pathfinder and the Sorcerer stopped their attack.
"Release him," the Pathfinder said hoarsely.
Reyn didn't respond, only pressing the sword fragment harder against the Ranger's neck.
Blood immediately flowed, staining his clothes. From the pain, Morion panicked and quickly shouted:
"Quint, back off! Don't provoke Lord Reyn!"
"Now you recognize me?" Reyn sneered coldly.
"Yes, Lord Reyn," fear appeared in Morion's eyes. He felt that if he continued pretending, he would really be killed.
He just didn't understand one thing: how did Reyn figure it out?
After all, he hadn't said a word!
Hearing Morion's words, his three companions hesitated. Now they understood that Morion really knew this man. But why had he hidden it?
Reyn looked at them. These three had nothing to do with him.
"Please leave," he said.
The Pathfinder's face turned red.
As the squad leader and the strongest among them, he was obliged to protect his comrades. Now Morion was a hostage. If he just left, his reputation in Longsand would be destroyed.
The Iron Guardian and the Sorcerer hesitated.
They had personally experienced Reyn's power. He had effortlessly deflected all their attacks and captured Morion. Even if they stayed, they wouldn't be of much use.
"Captain..."
The Pathfinder didn't agonize for long. Finally, he sighed, called over the Polar Wolf, and walked away with his comrades. He chose a compromise: he didn't leave completely, but didn't stay close either. They retreated several hundred meters and stopped on a hillside, watching from afar.
Reyn didn't demand more. These three had no hearing-related elements, so the distance was sufficient.
"Why do you know me?"
Hearing Reyn's question, Morion froze for a moment.
He thought Reyn knew something, which was why he had attacked so decisively. But he asked such a strange question.
"I've seen Lord Reyn before in the Demon Extermination Squad, so..." Morion didn't finish. A blade flashed before his eyes, and two fingers on his right hand were severed. Blood gushed out. The piercing pain made him scream.
"You're lying," Reyn said impassively. "Next time it won't be a finger, but the whole arm."
He couldn't read minds, but he had the Soul Eye. A person could pretend outwardly, but their soul wouldn't lie.
Truth or lie—it was obvious at a glance.
Morion's face twisted in pain and paled. His forehead beaded with cold sweat. He trembled so violently that he couldn't utter a word, looking utterly pathetic.
It didn't move Reyn. Losing two fingers—for a Superhuman who had undergone two Soul Transformations, such pain wasn't unbearable.
The Soul Eye saw that Morion's soul was still normal, but its color had turned red—hatred had taken root in his heart.
His pathetic appearance was an act.
Reyn raised the sword fragment.
"My patience isn't infinite."
Morion shuddered and hurriedly spoke:
"Lord Reyn, please, no! I know you because someone is secretly investigating your affairs. That was my job. But I swear, I never took any actions against you!"
"Actions?" Reyn's eyes flashed. "What actions? Who's investigating me?"
Morion didn't dare hide it:
"Viscount Gallowena."
"Gallowena..." Reyn pondered. He hadn't heard that name in a long time. After that incident at Winter Thunder Lake, where he killed two assassins, Gallowena had gone quiet.
Viola had worried for a long time, but then it seemed he had abandoned his plans.
In reality, neither the fake demonic soul incident at the auction nor the assassination attempt at Winter Thunder Lake had direct evidence pointing to Gallowena. No useful clues remained either.
Otherwise, Viola could have simply complained to the Silver Star Duchess, presented the evidence, and Gallowena would have had a hard time.
Reyn snorted.
"You still haven't said what actions. Tell me everything you know. And what are your relations with Gallowena?"
As he spoke, he pressed the sword fragment slightly deeper, widening the wound.
Terrified out of his wits, Morion quickly spoke:
"I've been carrying out the viscount's orders for several years and know many of his secrets. He's long been looking for a chance to kill Lady Viola, but for the last few months she hasn't left the Silverstar District, so there was no opportunity. Last month it became known that Lady Viola founded a recording company. The viscount was furious. Lord Reyn, you must understand—if the company succeeds, the issue of inheriting the Winter Thunder County will be settled once and for all."
Reyn nodded slightly and asked calmly:
"So Gallowena decided to target me?"
"Yes," Morion smiled obsequiously. "Lord Reyn, you're close to Lady Viola, even living in the Vigo Manor. You're the inventor of the gramophone. If he could control you, there'd be a chance to get to Lady Viola."
"Control me?" Reyn asked with a sinister smirk. "And how were you planning to control me?"
Morion flinched, shoulders hunching in fear, but the movement aggravated the wound, and he trembled all over—whether from pain or fear.
After hesitating for a few seconds, he finally said:
"He wanted to attack your family. Use their lives to force Lord Reyn to obey his orders."
Reyn's eyes flashed dangerously.
Morion hurriedly added loudly:
"It was all the viscount's idea! I had nothing to do with it! I was only responsible for gathering information on you and your family!"
"Is that so?" Reyn remained calm, no anger showing on his face. "And what did you find out?"
Morion's gaze grew complicated. He didn't dare answer.
Reyn didn't press. Most likely, it was common knowledge about his family that any aristocrat with minor connections could learn.
He was more concerned about his family's safety.
"When was Gallowena planning to attack?"
"The plan was for last month," Morion answered honestly. "They were about to act. First kidnap your family in Iglmarsh, bring them to Longsand, then contact you through your brother Brisset from the Demon Extermination Squad. That way you couldn't trace us. But two days before the operation, you, Lord Reyn, suddenly vanished. The viscount had to postpone the plan."
Morion was annoyed. He didn't know where Reyn had gone. If they'd acted then, he wouldn't be in Reyn's hands today.
Reyn mentally thanked his luck—he had been at the Iron Beard Fortress at that time.
"And then?" he continued the interrogation.
"When Lord Reyn reappeared, the Great Earthquake happened in the Silverstar District. All of Longsand was patrolled by guards, even the Secret Fire Guard was mobilized. The viscount didn't dare act then," Morion replied.
Reyn stared at him intently.
"Gallowena didn't abandon the plan?"
"I don't know..." Morion shook his head and, fearing Reyn wouldn't believe him, hurriedly added: "I really don't know about further plans! I was only responsible for gathering information! The viscount has his own executors. Then Quint said a mid-rank Shadow Thunder Panther appeared in Gray Dragon Mountain. I've known him for years and couldn't refuse, so I went with them. As soon as we entered the mountains, I stopped contacting the viscount."
Reyn listened, his face impassive. The Soul Eye confirmed—Morion wasn't lying.
A long silence fell. Morion began to panic.
"Lord Reyn, I told you everything I know! The attack on your family wasn't my idea!" he pleaded. "Besides, the viscount might have abandoned the plan by now, since he couldn't find you!"
Reyn didn't believe a word.
Whether Gallowena had carried out his plan or not, he posed a huge threat.
Though Reyn didn't feel strong attachment to his current family, he knew: even if Gallowena captured them and tried to blackmail him, he couldn't submit and betray Viola.
The only thing he could do was avenge them.
Fortunately, it hadn't come to that. The threat needed to be eliminated in the bud.
As for Morion... Reyn saw no reason to let him live.
His gaze grew icy. Morion realized what was coming but didn't have time to open his mouth. The sword fragment slashed forward, severing his throat.
Morion collapsed to the ground, clutching his neck and making rasping sounds. Soon he went still.
His soul flew out of the body, adding five units of energy to Reyn.
He looked at the increased gauge. It was less than expected. Clearly, after reaching the fourth level of Mage, his soul had grown stronger, and now more energy was needed to level up.
On the hillside, Pathfinder Quint saw Morion killed and charged forward in rage.
Reyn ignored them, turned, and left.
With his current speed—Agility at the third level plus "Swift Run"—ordinary Superhumans couldn't catch him. He quickly shook off his pursuers. The red-eyed eagle in the sky stubbornly followed, but Quint himself couldn't maintain such speed. The hunter and his pet couldn't be too far apart, so after an hour even the eagle fell behind.
In half a day, Reyn left Gray Dragon Mountain and reached the borders of the Liancel family farm.