Final Lord

Chapter 258 Viscount Hank Returns
Before the blue light of the teleportation array had completely dissipated, Viscount Hank's gilded riding boots slammed heavily onto the stone pavement of the shackled collar.

Viscount Hank's face was as cold and stern as if carved by a knife. Beneath his high cheekbones were a pair of narrow, amber eyes, the depths of which seemed to burn with an inextinguishable fire of ambition.

His nose was high and straight, with a slightly hooked tip, like a sharp scimitar, exuding a sinister and oppressive aura. When his thin lips were pressed tightly together, the corners of his mouth would unconsciously turn downwards, forming a harsh curve.

His black hair was meticulously combed back and tied up with a dark red thorn-patterned headband, inlaid with several small obsidian stones that gleamed coldly in the firelight. A few strands of silver hair were faintly visible at his temples.

His attire was luxurious yet understated; beneath a mink cloak was a deep purple, form-fitting tuxedo, its collar and cuffs embroidered with intricate, dark gold vine patterns, each line seemingly writhing as if alive. A silver-grey snakeskin belt cinched his waist, from which hung a small ram's horn flute, its body gleaming with an ominous, decaying green luster. On the ring finger of his left hand was a black iron ring, its face engraved with a large serpent with nine heads.

Judging by appearance alone, Hank is undoubtedly a top-tier handsome man. His sharp features, weathered by war, are enough to make him a favorite among the noble ladies of the capital.

But when he should have been selling himself, he chose to work hard, and through sheer grit, he became the most powerful among the border nobles. He was a man detached from base desires, with no lingering interest in beauty, only a thirst for advancement.

Behind him, three hundred heavily armored knights surged out of the teleportation array like a black iron torrent. The sparks flying from the collision of horseshoes and bluestone illuminated the bewildered sheep face of his personal guard, Salang.

“My lord, why must we march through the night?” Salang stepped forward, stroking the bronze shepherd’s bell. His wool was still damp with the night dew. “My brother Sutton can easily crush that den of rats in Gru territory.”

“It’s not that easy.” Hank shook his head. “Lincoln’s death was suspicious. Knowing Kate Gru as I do, he’s a complete coward, a typical shrewd but foolish second-generation aristocrat, and absolutely incapable of killing Lincoln.”

The night wind carried the stench of the city, and Viscount Hank's sable cloak fluttered in the breeze. He gazed toward the night sky in the direction of the Gru territory, where ominous, leaden-gray clouds were churning.

"It must have been Wee Gru who killed Lincoln, and she's the one I'm going to deal with. A golden phoenix has flown out of the grass nest."

That little girl spent six years training in the capital, and then she returned at that exact time. Even with her status and position, she was still willing to risk her life for Kate—I never expected that. Old Gru tricked me.”

"Are you worried about the Crimson Flame Sword Saint?" Salang asked. "Wei Yi Gru is just one of the Crimson Flame Sword Saint's many disciples. The Sword Saint shouldn't lack this student, right?"

"That's what I thought too, until I saw how Chi Yan stood up for her in the main hall. The courtiers were outraged, and the king ordered the rebellion to be quelled. In that situation, any smart person would choose to protect themselves."

Chi Yan has been in the capital for so many years and is highly regarded by His Majesty; it's impossible that he doesn't know this.

Yet, even under those circumstances, he dared to stand up and advise His Majesty. His regard for Vey Gru exceeded my expectations.

Hank's face was gloomy.

“I have already offended the Crimson Flame Sword Saint, so I must eliminate him completely. I absolutely cannot let Wei Yi Gru meet the Crimson Flame Sword Saint. If she has some evidence against me, then we'll be in trouble.”

During this time, I have been setting up surveillance along all the roads leading to the capital, and I stop Wei Yi Gru as soon as she appears.

But she was smarter than I thought; she actually managed to hide for so long without going to the capital. I guess she had already guessed my precautions.

So, taking advantage of the Demon Tide outbreak, I wanted to force her and Kate Gru to the border fortress. Once they were in my hands, I had a million ways to kill them openly and legitimately.

But they surprised me again; they dared to betray their country! What audacity, what fierce determination! This is absolutely not something the cowardly Kate could do; it must have been Vee Gru's idea. I rarely respect women, but she's an exception. Vee Gru is no slouch; she's a formidable adversary.

The more this is the case, the less she can live.

Salang swayed his heavy body and grinned, "My lord, you are very thoughtful. Unlike us, all we know is fighting and killing."

My lord, please rest assured, that woman, no matter how powerful, is only at the second level of the Extraordinary Realm. My younger brother, Sutton, is a genius who reached the fourth level of the Extraordinary Realm at a young age and is deeply loved by the Mother of Abundance.

"Maybe when we get to Gru territory, we'll see Sutton has Wei-Yi Gru locked in a cage, a feast laid out for us, hahaha."

Salang's rough laughter still echoed in the night sky when Viscount Hank's ram's horn flute, hanging from his waist, suddenly shattered with a sharp, piercing sound. The sound was particularly jarring in the silent night, like a death knell tolling by fate.

Viscount Hank's pupils suddenly contracted, and his rough fingers gripped the cracked ram's horn flute tightly.

By the moonlight, he could clearly see the spiderweb-like cracks spreading across the flute. This Horcrux, connected to Sutton's life, was now crumbling inch by inch in his palm. The cold night wind swirled the fragments of the flute, which fell through his fingers like paper money offered to the dead.

"Sutton... is dead." Hank's voice was colder than the icy night wind.

Salang's rough laughter stopped abruptly, and his wrinkled sheep face froze instantly.

"No...this is impossible!" Salang's hooves pounded the stone slabs on the ground, his bulging muscles bulging out a ferocious outline in the moonlight.

He trembled as he picked up the broken ram's horn flute from Hank's hand, the murky ram's eyes reflecting the decaying green cracks spreading across the flute.

His blood-related brother is now left with only this last trace in the world.

"Who killed my brother! He was the hope for the rise of us half-goat people. Who was it?!"

Salang suddenly sprang to his feet, his deformed ram horns shattering the bronze lamppost beside the teleportation array. Splattered oil ignited his wool, but he remained oblivious, frantically tearing at the patriarch's necklace around his neck. The silver chain, strung with ferns, cut deep into his neck, drawing blood that mingled with his scalding tears, splashing onto the bluestone slabs.

"I'll tear their throats apart!" Salang's roar shattered the stained glass windows along the way, and his hooves dug deep furrows in the ground. "Whether they're disciples of the Sword Saint or whatever, they'll all be buried with my brother."

Viscount Hank took the whip from his waist and lashed it across Salang's neck. The whip suddenly tightened, causing Salang to stagger and kneel. Three men in black robes emerged from the shadows, their hands pressing against Salang's bulging veins.

“Calm down, old pal.” Hank’s voice was as gentle as if soothing a raging beast, but his fingertips were constantly stroking the Hydra ring.

His calm demeanor concealed a deep anger and a hint of unease, like a flame burning inside a block of ice.

(End of this chapter)