Chapter 398 - Joy Street

Half an hour later, in the most upscale district of Florence, on a street known as Joy Street.

This place was a haven for indulgence, so its liveliness peaked in the evening. Finely crafted carriages were a common sight, and some even bore the family crests of noble houses. Wealthy merchants, carefree scions of aristocratic families, and even married individuals seeking thrills frequented the area.

Of course, entertainment was only part of the allure. As needs evolved, Joy Street had transformed into a venue for business negotiations, networking, and social gatherings among the younger generation. Young nobles, especially those backed by the vast wealth and influence of their families, found it ideal for their escapades.

When the crowd grew, those who upheld strict moral codes would inevitably find themselves out of place.

A four-storey building dominated the center of Joy Street. On its top floor, the air of the most luxurious private suite carried a faint yet refined aroma of incense. The floor was lined with a moderately thick, soft fur rug, forming a large, light-brown carpet.

The walls were adorned with golden foil-like stickers arranged in intricate floral patterns that climbed up to the corners. They were only partially obscured by elegant white curtains.

In the middle of the suite, a group of young men and women were drinking together. The men were handsome while the women were stunning. Their attire and demeanor exuded a subtle noble grace. However, one tall and imposing man was unmistakably the center of attention.

He had a cold and aloof expression and seldom spoke more than five words at a time. Yet, the noble men and women eagerly circled him, their conversations brimming with flattery, hints, and attempts to curry favor.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating his semi-long golden hair, making it glisten brilliantly. His strikingly handsome, deeply chiseled, and almost predatory face radiated a wild charm. Combined with his tall, powerful frame and a domineering aura, he resembled a lion king at rest.

This was Soss, a Dark Gold Hunter of the Hunters' Association, a skilled warrior groomed from a young age by the Empire's royal family. He wielded physique-based arcane energy and possessed extraordinary stamina. His mastery of fist techniques was also unparalleled. Few Dark Gold Hunters could endure more than five moves against him in close combat.

Moreover, Soss had an unparalleled defense. He had once withstood simultaneous full-force attacks from three Savage Beast-level dark creatures. Though he had been gravely injured afterward, the feat had exemplified his incredible physical strength, which owed much to the arcane energy he cultivated.

However, what truly set him apart was a secretive, incomplete fist technique passed down by the royal family. Known as the Mad Lion Fist, half of the technique had been lost to time. Even so, the fragment that remained earned Soss the title of the Lion King and qualified him as a contender for the prestigious title of Shadow Hunter. It was clear that half of his prowess stemmed from this unique fist technique.

If Cassius were to see the Mad Lion Fist in action, he would quickly find it familiar. Indeed, the technique shared roots with the Three-Eyed Mad Lion Sect of the Northern Covert Martial Arts community. However, it was natural for fragments of the technique to be lost or leaked over centuries of transmission.

The Mad Lion Fist was considered a second-tier Covert Martial Arts within the realm of Covert Martial Arts, and since its crucial Three-Eye Secret Technique was missing, it amounted to little more than basic forms. It might even fall short compared to the complete third-tier Covert Martial Arts.

That said, such evaluations came from within the Covert Martial Arts community. Outsiders, of course, coveted it as a treasure. The Lion King, Soss, had used this fist technique to become a Dark Gold hunter. And his title, Lion King, was also derived from this technique.

If Duomo, the core disciple of the Three-Eyed Mad Lion Sect, whom Cassius encountered during his third time-travel, had heard this nickname, he would undoubtedly erupt in fury.

The title of

Lion King

was not granted casually. Duomo's master, Maro, was known as the Evil Lion, while his martial uncle, Mi An, was the Demon Lion. These titles had been hard-earned within the Covert Martial Arts community. Moreover, the Lion King title was reserved for the sect master of each generation, bestowed only after defeating all peers in contention.

Yet Soss, with his incomplete Mad Lion Fist, dared to assume such a title. Even an ordinary core disciple of the sect would outclass him. If the current Three-Eyed Mad Lion Sect learned of this, they might even mobilize their full force to reclaim their honor.

Such a scenario, however, was highly unlikely. The Covert Martial Arts community, though occasionally interacting with other supernatural forces, was largely shrouded in the mists of history. They were separated from the modern age by an unbridgeable chasm.

Knock, knock, knock... knock, knock, knock...

The suite was echoing with laughter, but a knock at the door interrupted the revelry. The door creaked open, and a middle-aged man stepped inside.

Moments later, Soss stood in a corner of a corridor adorned with oil-painted landscapes with his lofty figure back to the middle-aged man, gazing out the window while sipping some fine wine from a crystal glass. The man bowed slightly, recounting the events of the day.

"Oh? Half a year has passed, and that old man has finally used up his slot..."

Soss took a sip of his wine as his gaze turned contemplative. "Is it his disciple? What's their status and Hunter ranking? How about their strength?"

"It should be his disciple..." The middle-aged man recalled his recent observations. Blood Axe Herb appeared to be teaching a Hunter named White Aster the Axe technique. After a brief moment to gather his thoughts, he continued, "He's a Hunter who recently joined the Hunters' Association, ranked Black Copper level, a mind-based illusionist..."

"Illusionist?"

Soss turned as a peculiar expression crossed his face. "That old man, a master of the Blood Axe, took in a mental arcane energy disciple? Does he intend to turn a frail illusionist into an expert in close-quarters cold weapon combat? Blood Axe Herb must have truly lost his wits over the years. Ha!"

Soss's tone dripped with disdain. He had assumed Herb would choose a formidable Dark Gold Hunter to rival him or collaborate with the council to sabotage his royal-backed position. If the council had two Dark Gold Hunters vying for the Shadow Hunter slot, it would have been troublesome. But a Black Copper-level novice?

A mental arcane energy illusionist like Herb, no less. This was the area Soss least feared. His mastery of the Mad Lion Fist had endowed him with willpower far beyond ordinary individuals. Even illusionists of the same rank would find it challenging to trap him in an illusionary space for long.

As for a Black Copper-level illusionist? They would likely suffer immediate backlash and collapse.

The middle-aged man standing nearby opened his mouth as if to speak but ultimately chose to remain silent, refraining from correcting his master. After all, that illusionist's physique was anything but frail. He seemingly had a powerful build, yet even such physical prowess remained within the limits of an ordinary human. For illusionists, the true measure of strength lay in the mastery of mental arcane energy, not physical might.

In fact, a physically weaker illusionist often proved to be more formidable. This was because they had focused entirely on honing their mental abilities, leaving no time or energy to cultivate their bodies.

By the window, a gentle breeze brushed past as Soss contemplated for a moment before speaking.

"That old man waited until now to use his slot, and even then, chose a disciple at the Black Copper level. It seems he's resigned himself to fate and no longer wants to compete for the Shadow Hunter title. Instead, he's likely aiming for the generous resources that can be exchanged for the honorary badge. If that's the case, then that Black Copper illusionist is indeed Blood Axe Herb's disciple. Hah, is he conceding the fight to protect his disciple and reducing the risks involved? If Solomon or Claire get to know about this, they might even let you off the hook."

He paused with a cold and cruel smile forming on his lips. "But as for me..."

Soss's voice turned sharp with a trace of malice. "Offending the royal family back then isn't something that can be so easily forgiven. The price must be paid severely, old man."

Soss locked his piercing gaze on the middle-aged man, exuding an oppressive aura. "Get someone to take care of that illusionist. Watch closely. Strike as soon as he leaves the headquarters.

"Oh, and make sure the assassin brings back his head. Pack it neatly in a box and deliver it to that old man. Let him see his disciple's final expression before death."

"Yes," the middle-aged man replied without hesitation, striding quickly toward the stairs.

The corridor fell silent, leaving only Soss behind. He drained his glass of wine in one gulp and turned back toward the opulent private suite. The orders he had just issued seemed to barely register in his mind.

In Soss's view, the two opponents truly worthy of his attention were Thorn Solomon and Siren Claire.

***

At the same time, in Florence's District Two, within the headquarters of the Hongli Council, a young man clad entirely in black shoes, pants, and shirt was training inside a secluded private room. His figure seemed to be integrated with the darkness, as he gave off an aura of deep, mysterious eeriness.

Thorny vines snaked through the shadows, spreading across the walls with a faint rustle. These vines eventually covered the entire space, their surfaces bristling with venomous barbs. Toxic black smoke spilled from the leaves, corroding the air itself with a faint, sinister hiss.

Knock, knock, knock

...

A soft rap at the door broke the silence. Solomon opened his eyes.

Ten minutes later, he had returned to his meditative state. Solomon didn't spare the information about Blood Axe Herb that had just been relayed to him a second thought. Such trivial matters were better left to his subordinates. His current priority was to adjust his condition and prepare for the inevitable clash with his two long-time adversaries, Claire and Soss.

***

In the top-floor commander's office of the Dark Hunter Organization's headquarters, a deep, magnetic voice echoed with authority.

"Claire, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I got it," Claire responded in an exaggerated tone of exasperation. "You've told me twice, Uncle. My ears are going numb. I'm supposed to protect that kid, White Aster, so we don't dishearten the neutral faction or the retired veteran Hunters in the organization..."

Claire lounged on the sofa without a shred of decorum, her casual demeanor in stark contrast to her usual image as a refined and dignified beauty. She was unabashedly bold, with a relaxed and carefree posture.

With her legs crossed, her flawless white skin seemed to glow under the light. Despite her unrefined behavior, the enchanting curve of her lips and the seductive allure of her eyes gave her an irresistible charm. Her well-proportioned figure exuded a natural magnetism, drawing the attention of others effortlessly.

It was a passive ability, much like the legendary songs of sirens that lured sailors to their doom.

"Take this seriously for once. Don't act as carefree as you usually do. Remember, your Uncle Herb once saved your father's life..." The commander reminded her in a steady tone, carrying a natural air of authority and persuasion.

"Yes, yes, I understand. I'm leaving now."

Clearly uncomfortable in the solemn atmosphere of the office, Claire fidgeted in her seat. It was as though the very air were prickling her skin. She shifted restlessly, unable to find a position that suited her.

"Get out of here, then. Honestly, I don't know how your mother managed to raise you with such a lazy personality. If you were one of my subordinates..." The commander's reprimand was cut short as the door slammed shut behind her.

Perhaps only Claire could get away with such audacity in the entire Dark Hunter Organization.

As she descended from the top floor to the ground level, Claire's striking figure caught the eyes of everyone she passed. The headquarters personnel couldn't help but steal glances, their gazes filled with admiration and even infatuation. For some, their hearts pounded as if struck by a sudden and overwhelming crush.

Claire quickened her pace while maintaining her cold and flawless exterior. Internally, however, she was cursing under her breath. Her awakening as a Siren had bestowed her with immense mental arcane energy but also left her plagued by unwanted attention. The passive nature of her allure was becoming increasingly intolerable, and the countless lecherous stares she endured only pushed her further down a rebellious path—one she jokingly referred to as her girl crush phase.

Her mother had nearly been driven to despair over it, but Claire remained resolute. The strong forged their own destinies, choosing the lives they wished to lead. As long as she abided by the Dark Hunter organization's rules, no one could dictate her choices. This was the privilege of powerful freedom, regardless of gender.

***

The hours passed, and the afternoon sun began its descent.

Cassius sat shirtless in his apartment, focusing intently on the synergy between his second sacred mark and the Southern Dipper Fist Technique. He could see signs of integration between the Death's Fang Force and Reverberating Force. They were more noticeable now than before.

As he concentrated, Cassius reached a conclusion. The sacred mark was the result of life energy condensing when his body's cells reached a state of saturation. It had no inherent attributes and acted as a pure and neutral strength node.

This neutrality allowed it to indiscriminately enhance any ability, like a power amplifier. When Cassius utilized his three forms of arcane energy, the sacred mark consumed a portion of its stored life energy to provide an additional boost.

Though his two variations of the Southern Dipper Fist Techniques had distinct differences, they shared a common origin. Thus, when they were unleashed, the sacred mark's amplification caused a subtle attraction between the two forces, hinting at deeper potential synergies.

However, the effect was faint with only two sacred marks. More marks would be needed to trigger significant changes.

Cassius reflected on the past ten days as he exhaled. His rapid physical development, leaping from a novice foundation to his current strength, carried inherent risks. Without the discipline of his Qi to stabilize his strength, there was a constant danger of collapse.

Thus, he had limited his ventures into the World of Calamity to just two or three short visits. Additionally, the dark creatures of the Ash City had grown cautious after their earlier losses, no longer roaming the streets in large groups as they once had.

As a result, Cassius hadn't been able to gather much life vibration energy through hunting.

Last night, he had entered the World of Calamity again, encountering Ghost-Man for the second time. Ghost-Man had arranged to meet Cassius outside Florence tonight to deliver valuable items from the Black Rain Manor.

"It's about time," Cassius murmured as he glanced at the clock. "Four-thirty. If I leave by carriage now, I should be there by six."

Rising to his feet, he slipped on a jacket, only to realize that White Aster's old clothes were far too small for his current build. His bones crackled as his body shrank back to a slender frame, standing at roughly 1.75 meters. The jacket fitted him perfectly.

The door to his apartment opened and shut as Cassius stepped out, ready to depart.

A pair of eyes followed his movements from the shadows, and a figure slipped silently after him.