Just as the tavern owner tries to say sothing more, Henwell turns his gaze toward the door.
“Not coming in for a chat?”
No sooner are the words out than the tavern doors swing open, and several figures in black cloaks step inside.
Henwell smiles warmly. “So there are old acquaintances after all! Supervisor Leom, I didn’t expect you to co in person.”
He then nods politely to another man. “Instructor Archie, long ti no see.”
At Henwell’s ntion, the two pull back their cloaks, revealing themselves as mbers of the Veil Organization.
One is Leom—the Skin Puppeteer Master who paid fifty gold coins to acquire Henwell.
The other is Archie, the instructor responsible for training Henwell at the Forge Furnace base.
Leom sighs. “You know, buying you was the best deal I ever made. But sending you to the Bloodhorn Arena as a gladiator, that was my biggest investnt mistake.”
Scarface Archie crosses his arms, smirking coldly. “Heh… What did I say back then? He was a promising seedling. But you all rushed him, sending him to be a gladiator! Look at him now. His achievents prove how right I was to stand my ground.”
Leom chuckles. “Regardless, his success is partly thanks to us.”
Henwell nods gently. “That’s true. If you hadn’t bought back then, I might’ve been killed by those bandits.”
Leom sighs with regret. “It’s a pity you took down that bandit. Otherwise, we could’ve traced your origins. Soone as formidable as you surely isn’t from an ordinary family.”
Henwell had been guarding against exactly that.
The Veil Organization’s reach is vast. When he killed the bandit leader nicknad Nailhead, he feared soone might trace back his past.
Leom’s curiosity breaks the silence. “There’s one thing I’ve always wanted to know—where exactly are you from? Or, are you even born on this continent? Honestly, many in the organization are curious about your origins. If you weren’t already so accomplished and hard to divine, the organization would’ve paid a hefty price to uncover your background through divination.”
Henwell doesn’t answer directly. Instead, he asks, “I’ve already been bought out of arena and effectively left the organization. Are you chasing now because of a bounty? Isn’t that a bit reckless? After all, both of you aren’t exactly small players in the organization. If you die here, wouldn’t that be a huge loss for them?”
Scarface Archie clenches his fist. “Number One! Looks like smooth sailing all the way has made you forget. It’s us who made you who you are!”
Before the words finish, Henwell vanishes and suddenly appears right in front of Scarface Archie.
Archie reacts quickly, swinging his blood-red hand like a battle axe toward Henwell’s shoulder.
Henwell ducks aside, then counters with an elbow strike that crashes into Archie’s chest.
With the sound of bones breaking, Henwell grabs Archie’s hand and slams it down in front of him.
Scarface Archie lies in the middle of cracked floorboards, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
Henwell looks down at him. “I never got here by smooth sailing. I walked over mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Also, Instructor, you broke through too late. You’ve only been at dawn class for a short ti! I’ve already killed more than one Grand Knight stronger than you! So, Instructor, you’re old news. This isn’t your era anymore!”
Whether it’s because Henwell’s words or the heavy injury, Scarface Archie coughs up more blood.
Henwell ignores him and turns to Leom. “Supervisor, since you’re not making a move yet, I guess you’re not planning to skin alive?”
Leom narrows his eyes, smiling. “Of course not! If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. We want have business with you. The organization needs to rebuild a base, and we hope to find a good spot inside your Peace Haven. I don’t think you’d refuse the organization’s request, right?”
”Don’t worry, the organization isn’t so broke gang. Whatever extraordinary materials, potions, or talents you need, we’ll provide them. Also, one thing I must correct, you’ve never truly left the organization. The fifty gold coins I paid for you back then? That deal is valid past, present, and future.”
”You’re smart. You’ve investigated the organization and know its power. As long as you cooperate, we’ll be equals. Your future achievents will surely surpass ours.”
”You said it well just now. It’s your generation’s ti. The organization needs young leaders like you. With your talent, Peace Haven is too small. The organization will help you build a vast empire.”
Henwell doesn’t answer directly but counters with a question. “By the way, there’s sothing I want to confirm. Those Fury Spirits that ambushed a few days ago, was that your doing?”
Leom nods. “Yes. We wanted to see just how strong you’ve beco. We’re quite satisfied with the results.”
Henwell eyes the four black-cloaked figures beside Leom. “So they were the ones who summoned the Fury Spirits to attack?”
Leom replies, “Exactly. Now you know how many tricks we have up our sleeves. If we wanted to, you wouldn’t even make it out of the grassland…”
Before he can finish, Henwell vanishes again.
This ti, the group is on guard. Two spellcasters quickly raise protective barriers.
A slender wand materializes in Leom’s hand.
But they still underestimate Henwell’s power.
Igniting his Blood Will, a faint golden glow surrounds him, making him look like a living fla.
In an instant, he shatters the magical shields and appears right before the black-cloaked assailants.
Henwell swings his leg, hooking one’s ankle. The joint snaps, and the opponent is flung sideways through the air by the force.
Then Henwell throws a punch—his fist glowing blood-gold—piercing through the opponent’s magical defenses and slamming solidly into his chest.
The man’s upper body bursts apart like an overinflated balloon, scattering flesh and bone.
Henwell dodges a thrown dagger, then kicks the opponent flying.
With a swift step, he appears behind another cloaked figure, delivering a brutal kick to the back of the knee, forcing him to his knees.
He extends his hands clad in tal gloves, left pressing on the shoulder, right gripping the face.
With a brutal twist, he rips the man’s head clean off.
Only then does the first fallen cloaked figure’s bloodied flesh drop to the ground.
Henwell slams the severed head, still attached to a piece of spine, into the charging last cloaked man.
Drawing his twin swords, Henwell spins around just as Leom and the cloaked figure who dodged the head strike freeze in place.
Henwell’s blades press firmly against their chins.
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