Chapter 90 | Being Followed
Dexter’s strength had grown tremendously after improving his bloodline to Ancient Grade and also advancing to Gold Organs, the second stage of the Eternal Endurance Buddha Scripture.
Though he had not tested his limits yet, he estimated that his raw physical power was comparable to a 9th-tier superhuman, perhaps even peak knight tier.
Yet Tessa said she couldn’t sense him much.
She shouldn’t have been able to sense him at all. The Ancient Grade Chaos Flame Demon bloodline made sure of that.
Being part demon, one advantage was concealment. He gained the ability to conceal his energy waves from leaking out, yet Tessa said she couldn’t sense him much, meaning her strength had definitely surpassed Ultra rank.
Dexter kept his expression neutral.
An ultra-rank hero at her age should have been impossible. She looked no older than sixteen.
Reaching superhuman status took years of training, and advancing to ultra-human required even more talent, resources, and dedication. Most ultra-rank heroes were at least in their forties or fifties.
Yet the evidence was difficult to ignore.
Dexter filed the thought away.
"Where is your dad?" he asked, changing the subject.
Tessa straightened. "He went out for an errand. He should be back tonight."
Dexter nodded. "Greet him for me when he returns." He had never seen her dad, but he knew she wasn’t lying about him.
"Alright," she said with a small smile.
Dexter turned to leave, then remembered something.
"The old woman who sits in front of our building," he said. "Was she one of the people who placed the bet?"
Tessa’s smile became wry.
"Old lady Lucy? Yes."
"What did she bet?"
"Against you. Everyone did. I was the only one who bet that you wouldn’t run."
Dexter was silent for a moment before laughing.
"Then I suppose I should thank you for defending my honor, lady Tessa."
Tessa waved a hand.
"No need. I already got my reward. I can buy many things with 5000 dollars."
Dexter chuckled.
Several customers had entered the bakery during their conversation, and the staff was attending to them.
"I’ll see you later," he said.
"Come back soon."
Dexter pushed open the door and stepped into the afternoon air. The scent of fresh pastries faded behind him, replaced by the familiar smells of the neighborhood. Adjusting the bags in his arms, he started walking.
After about fifteen meters, he stopped.
Nothing had changed. The street remained quiet, with a few stray dogs wandering near a distant lamppost.
Yet something felt wrong.
It wasn’t a sound or a sight. It was a faint pressure at the edge of his awareness—the unsettling feeling of being watched.
And it was moving.
Someone was following him.
Whoever it was moved without sound or presence, blending into the surroundings so perfectly that they seemed part of the air itself.
Dexter continued walking, pretending not to notice.
A thief?
Unlikely.
Thieves were not this skilled, nor did they carry this subtle sense of danger. Well, not if you’re Batman’s parents.
Dexter turned into a narrow alley between two buildings. The afternoon sun barely reached inside, leaving the passage cool and shadowed.
There, he stopped.
Setting the bags against the wall, he slipped into the deepest shadow and waited.
Five seconds, ten seconds. Twenty.
But nothing.
No footsteps. No movement.
Frowning, Dexter unsheathed his blade as he focused hard, pouring mana into his eyes and activating his enhanced hearing talent; he extended his senses, stretching them to the max.
Even then, he couldn’t find a trace of the person.
Either the person was hiding without using energy, or their concealment was beyond his ability to detect.
He calmed his nerves and sheathed back his blade.
"You can come out now. I already know you’re following me."
Silence.
No response.
A thread of doubt crept into his mind.
He had barely slept in days due to the pain of sharing his wife’s pain, so he resorted to cultivation.
Maybe it was the exhaustion from that, and he was imagining it.
Maybe the pressure was lingering tension from the dungeon.
Exhaling slowly, he turned toward the bags.
However, it was at that moment that l the air shifted.
There was no flash of light or burst of energy.
One moment the space ahead was empty.
The next, it wasn’t.
A woman stepped out of nowhere as though emerging through an invisible curtain.
She wore a dark cloak that covered her from neck to ankle.
The fabric seemed to absorb light, making her appear almost like a living shadow. Her hood hid most of her face, though Dexter caught a glimpse of dark, practical clothing beneath.
She stood three meters away from Dexter, observing him as she said nothing.
The pressure Dexter had sensed since leaving the bakery exploded in intensity.
It wasn’t killing intent or harmful intent. It was just a curious interest.
Dexter’s mind rapidly spun—an Ultra human.
At the very least, maybe even stronger.
An ultra-human expert had been following him.
The woman smiled, an amused expression on her face.
"Relax," she said calmly. "I’m not here to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I could have killed you the moment you left the Hero Association."
Dexter didn’t lower his guard immediately, but her words sank in.
Since the Hero Association.
She had followed him through the streets, the black market, the shopping district, his neighborhood, and even the bakery. Yet he had never sensed her.
She was right. If she had intended to kill him, he would already be dead.
After a moment, Dexter pocketed the Type 3 hidden weapons.
The Flame Demon transformation retreated into its sealed state, no longer on the verge of exploding. He took a slow breath and forced himself to relax.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The woman lowered her hood, revealing long violet hair and matching violet eyes. She looked about his age, but with softer skin and a pretty figure.
"You don’t know who I am?" she asked.
Dexter studied her face. It seemed familiar.
Then he remembered. He slapped his palm and smiled.
"You’re that old man’s wife," he said. "The one I saw on the hotel balcony."
"Eh—!?"
The lady was greatly stunned, and she actually choked on her own spit.