Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 234

Chapter 234: Capital Crisis [2] (NEW!)
More explosions erupted in the distance, one after another, each one more louder than the other, thunderous roars that shattered windows and sent tremors through the ground.

Ace stared at the soul orb for a breath longer, its glow reflecting faintly in his eyes. Perhaps it was valuable. Perhaps even priceless.

But what use was treasure to the dead?

With a sharp breath, he turned and ran, leaving the orb behind as dust and ash swirled in the air around him.

The streets were in chaos.

Smoke rose in thick plumes from collapsing buildings. Shattered glass littered the stone roads, crunching beneath Ace’s feet as he sprinted past overturned carts and burning stalls.

A child cried somewhere, shrill, broken, the kind of cry that ripped straight through the chest.

“Mama! Mama—!”

Ace turned his head and saw a toddler sitting in the middle of the street, sobbing and covered in soot. No one stopped to take care.

Or that they couldn’t. The crowd surged past, parents dragging children, husbands pulling wives, some tripping, others bleeding, all desperate to survive.

“Ming’er! Come back—!” a woman screamed, her hands reaching out as a second explosion lit the sky behind her.

Her voice cracked into a wail as the child disappeared into the smoke.

Fathers shouted, voices raw and panicked.

Guards tried to form lines but were quickly swallowed by the tide of terrified civilians. No one seemed to be in control. No one even knew who or what they were running from anymore.

Ace’s eyes scanned everything, broken rooftops, crushed lanterns, collapsed pagodas. Even the capital’s protective formations had collapsed.

“If even the capital city looks like this…” he muttered grimly, dodging another falling beam, “what hope does this kingdom have?”

Just then, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

“By the order of His Majesty, cease your resistance and bow immediately to the authority!”

Ace paused mid-stride.

To his left, a group of soldiers clashed in a narrow alley flanked by crumbling walls and overturned stalls. Curious, he veered toward the commotion.

And then he saw them.

Milson.

And his men.

The young commander stood with defiance blazing in his eyes, his cloak torn and stained with blood, yet his stance proud unshaken.

Across from him stood an old man in gilded armor, laughing with open scorn. His hair was white, but his voice was thunderous.

“Milson Lionheart,” the old man mocked, his lips curling into a sneer, “is this the extent of the Lionheart family’s ability? What a disappointment! Hahaha! Fight back you fool.”

Milson stepped forward, blade in hand, defiant. “Unlike your family, we don’t backstab the King from the shadows. If you’re so proud, then face me yourself, coward! Just you and me, one and one!”

The old man’s eyes narrowed. He raised a hand, halting his knights before they could surge forward.

“You’re brave, boy. I’ll grant you that,” he said coldly. “But did your father never warn you to be wary of old men in professions where men die young?”

Suddenly—”Exactly,” came a voice from behind Ace.

He froze.

He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching.

His pulse spiked. Whoever it was had gotten far too close without him even noticing.

Ace spun around, instinctively falling into a defensive stance.

Standing just a few feet away was a young man, relaxed and grinning, as if the world wasn’t falling apart around them.

“You’re still green, my boy,” the youth said, voice smooth and slick, like oil on glass.

“…Xiao Ling?” Ace asked, frowning in confusion.

He recognized the face. Xiao Ling, he had once been hailed as the most talented cultivator of the Xiao family. Ace remembered him well… before his own banishment. How could he not know, Xiao Ling, his face was plastered everywhere, slogans like the new face of the Xiao Family.

The irony, everyone thought he died along with Xiao Wuzi.

The youth laughed softly and shook his head. “No, no. Not Xiao Ling. Come now… surely you remember me. I’m Yu Zhong. Just like you, the body is not mine, but the soul is.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the name.

Yu Zhong, the shadow behind many unseen events. A man whose hands had once tried to seize Ace’s fate… and failed.

“I’m not here for you this time,” Yu Zhong continued smoothly, raising both hands in mock surrender. “I’ve learned my lesson, Son of Fate. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Back on the battlefield below, Milson stood his ground, glaring at the old man across from him.

His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, the Lionheart crest on his chestplate catching the fading light like a silent vow.

The old man approached slowly, sword raised casually over his shoulder, exuding the calm menace of a seasoned predator.

Then, he stopped, just short of a particular spot on the ground.

“What’s the matter, young man?” he asked with a dry chuckle. “Did I fail to step into your little trap?”

Milson’s expression hardened. He had, in fact, laid a formation right at the center of the field, a last-ditch effort. If the duel turned hopeless, he’d activate it and, with luck, take the old bastard down with him.

But the old man had seen through it. He stood just one step away, tauntingly close, yet infuriatingly safe.

With a frustrated breath, Milson tightened his grip and stepped forward anyway. He wasn’t done yet.

“Old man,” Milson called out, his voice steady despite the tension. “Let’s settle this—one on one.”

The old man chuckled, casually resting his sword on his shoulder. “Sorry, boy. You’re just not worth my time. I’ve got more pressing matters…”

He turned, his gaze locking directly onto Ace. “…like these two busybodies.”

Yu Zhong let out a hearty laugh. “Looks like he caught you.”

“He said two,” Ace muttered, rising slowly to his feet, eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Ace?” Milson’s voice rang with surprise. “I thought you were dead!”

Yu Zhong smirked. “That’s a bit rash, don’t you think? Cursing the man who just might be here to save your life. You have fools for an ally huh.”