Chapter 529 - 6: Wild Wizard
Uncle Scar heard the shouting outside the door and his body tensed instinctively.
He shot a quick glance at the boy sitting cross-legged on the bed, his eyes holding a questioning look.
The boy met his gaze and gave a slight nod, his face still devoid of expression.
But that simple nod seemed to fill Uncle Scar with confidence.
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and hurried to the iron door, calling out in a loud voice,
"Coming, coming! Viper Boss, what brings you here in person!"
as he forcefully twisted the deadbolt.
The moment the door cracked open, a stench of cheap tobacco and sweat wafted in.
Immediately after, a burly, bald man who nearly blocked the entire doorway squeezed in sideways.
He wore a tight leather vest, revealing muscular, knotted arms covered in old scars. His eyes, like those of a true viper, darted around the dim room.
Behind him, two wiry henchmen filed in. Their gazes were wary and sinister as they took up positions to his left and right, implicitly blocking the exit.
The last to enter was a young man who seemed utterly out of place in the filthy surroundings.
He looked to be in his early twenties, dressed in a well-tailored, fine-quality dark blue coat with intricate silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs. On his feet were a pair of gleaming, polished boots.
His face had the pale complexion of a pampered life. His brow was slightly furrowed, and he held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, making no secret of his disgust for the foul air. His arrogant gaze swept across the room as if he were looking at a pile of trash.
"Scarface, not bad," Old Viper grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by cheap tobacco. He slapped a hand on Uncle Scar's shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. "Got your hands on some good 'merchandise' and didn't even give a heads-up? Treating your old brother like a stranger, are you?"
The slap left half of Uncle Scar's body numb, and his heart sank.
He endured the pain in his shoulder and forced a smile. "Oh, Viper Boss, how can you say that! Even if I had all the nerve in the world, I'd never dare keep something good from you. I just... I just haven't had the chance yet!"
As he spoke, he flicked his eyes toward the wooden plank bed in the center of the room.
But one look was all it took for the strained smile on Uncle Scar's face to freeze. The color drained from his cheeks in a flash, leaving behind only a deathly, ashen pallor.
The bed was empty.
The boy in the black shirt, who had been sitting cross-legged just moments ago, was gone.
It was as if he had evaporated into thin air, leaving not even an indentation on the bedding.
"Where's the merchandise?"
Noticing Uncle Scar's gaze shift, Old Viper's voice turned cold. He took a step forward, his burly frame casting a shadow that completely enveloped the shorter Uncle Scar.
His two henchmen behind him also shifted half a step forward without a sound, their expressions growing even more hostile.
Uncle Scar's mouth went dry, his throat feeling as if it had been scraped with sandpaper. He couldn't get a single word out.
"I'm talking to you, Scarface." Old Viper's voice dropped lower, becoming even more dangerous. He raised his large, calloused, and scarred hand and patted Uncle Scar's cheek, not too hard, not too soft, creating a sharp "SLAP, SLAP" sound. "The merchandise. Where is it? Don't tell me you're messing with me."
Just then, the young man behind Old Viper seemed to run out of patience.
"Grove," he called out, his voice laced with obvious disgust. "How long are you going to take? My patience is limited. The materials my mentor requires aren't like that piecemeal junk from before. You can't afford any delays."
Hearing this, the ferocity on Grove's face vanished instantly. He turned to the young man with utmost respect, even giving a slight bow. "Yes, yes, Sir Carlos. It'll be done right away. I'll take care of it now. I absolutely won't delay your business."
He turned his head back, and when he looked at Uncle Scar again, the viciousness in his eyes had intensified.
"You hear that, Scarface?!" Grove grabbed Uncle Scar by the collar, lifting him until his toes barely touched the ground. Spittle flew, nearly hitting Uncle Scar's face. "I don't have time to mess around with you! The merchandise, out with it! Now! Or else..."
He clenched his other hand into a fist, the knuckles cracking loudly. The threat was unmistakable.
At the same time, he shot a look over his shoulder.
His two wiry henchmen understood immediately and moved like hounds, closing in on Ron inside the room.
Uncle Scar was being choked, his face turning a deep crimson, but his mind was racing.
'I'm in deep trouble.'
'There's no way I leaked the news. I was trying to keep the boy—this "merchandise"—under wraps. Why would I ever reveal his existence?'
'It must have been Old Viper's own spies who noticed something was off.'
'The key thing is, there was no deal between me and Old Viper for this "merchandise." He just smelled something good and came to snatch it by force!'
'Now the "merchandise" is gone. Should I tell the truth?'
'Tell them he's not some commodity to be bought and sold, but an unpredictable and terrifyingly powerful being who just vanished into thin air?'
'With Grove's violent and suspicious nature, he'd never believe such a bizarre story. He'd just assume I, Uncle Scar, took the merchandise for myself or hid it somewhere.'
'If that happens, I can only imagine what would become of me and Ron. Being beaten to death would be getting off easy.'
'Besides, that powerful being is inscrutable, his power bottomless.'
'What if I give him up under pressure, and then he reappears and finds out I sold him out? Our fate then...'
Uncle Scar recalled the terrifying moment when his soul had nearly left his body, and he couldn't help but shudder.
'If I don't talk, I won't get past this immediate crisis. I'll suffer right now.'
'If I talk, Old Viper won't believe me, and I'll still suffer.'
'Even if Old Viper does believe me, there's no guarantee that mysterious being would spare us.'
'I'm caught between a rock and a hard place!'
Just as Uncle Scar was about to suffocate, and just as Ron was cornered by the two thugs, trembling like a leaf in the wind...
"I am here."
A calm voice echoed through the room without any warning.
Everyone whipped their heads around.
There, beside the previously empty wooden plank bed, stood a boy in a black shirt. No one knew when he had appeared.
It was as if he had been there all along, simply unseen by anyone.
The boy's sudden appearance made the atmosphere in the room freeze.
Carlos's arrogant eyes sharpened, and he unconsciously lowered the handkerchief from his face.
First, he was wary. Then, that wariness was replaced by a burning light in his eyes.
"Grove!" Carlos's voice was slightly raised with excitement as he pointed at the boy by the bed. "Seize him! Immediately!"
Although Grove was also startled by the boy's abrupt appearance and felt there was something inexplicably strange about him, the command from Sir Carlos overrode his sliver of unease.
He released the nearly suffocated Uncle Scar, cracked his thick neck, and, with his two henchmen, slowly closed in on the boy in a triangular formation.
"Kid, be smart. Don't move, unless you want to get hurt!" Grove growled, tentatively reaching out to grab the boy's shoulder.
He was a veteran street brawler. The grab looked casual, but it was calculated to cut off any potential escape routes.
However, the expected feeling of grabbing something solid never came.
His hand, along with half his forearm, passed through the boy's shoulder without any resistance, as if he had grabbed nothing but a projection of light and shadow.
The brutish muscles on Grove's face stiffened, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes.
He let out a low snarl, changing his grab into a fist, and threw a vicious straight punch at the boy's chest!
The punch was heavy and powerful, enough to shatter an ordinary person's ribs.
Once again, his fist passed right through. He'd put so much force into it that he stumbled forward.
"Damn it, I'm seeing things!" Grove was both shocked and enraged. His two henchmen looked bewildered, but at their boss's signal, they simultaneously pulled out hidden short batons and attacked from the left and right, aiming for the boy's head and abdomen.
The batons whistled through the air but, just like the punch, passed through him as if he were a phantom. They crossed paths without resistance, not even stirring a single strand of the boy's hair.
The boy remained where he stood, calmly watching their futile attacks, his eyes showing no flicker of emotion.
"Haha! HAHAHA!"
Just then, Carlos let out an irrepressible laugh that sounded particularly jarring in the silent room.
The greed in his eyes was practically overflowing. He strode forward, ignoring the bewildered Grove and his men, and stared intently at the boy as if admiring a priceless treasure.
"Advanced Nightmare Transformation! Near-perfect physical incorporeality! It really is... I knew I wasn't wrong!" Carlos's voice trembled with excitement. "I've struck gold, really struck gold this time! My mentor will be ecstatic! A subject with this level of Nightmare Transformation is the perfect research material! It's worth a thousand times more than those shoddy limbs and organs!"
Hearing this, the boy tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling upon the greedily staring Carlos. He asked calmly,
"You're not afraid of me?"
Carlos was taken aback for a moment, then, as if he had heard the most ridiculous thing, a contemptuous sneer appeared on his face. "Afraid of you? Who do you think you are? Some brat from a rich family who ran away from home, or maybe was exiled to this sewer after getting into trouble?"
"I don't care who you were before. The moment you ended up in this district, right in front of me, it means you've been abandoned. Your family, your background—they're all worthless here. Now, you're just a rare piece of 'merchandise'."
"Abandoned..." the boy repeated the word. He slowly raised his right hand and gave a casual, gentle wave toward Grove and his two henchmen, who were still flailing their arms uselessly, trying to touch him.
"Ugh!"
"What—!"
Grove and his two men felt an irresistible force slam into their chests.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Three dull impacts sounded in succession, accompanied by the cracking of bones and pained grunts.
Grove's burly body slammed hard against the opposite wall, shaking dust loose from it.
The two wiry henchmen crashed into a pile of junk in the corner and a cold stone table, respectively, unable to get back up.
Uncle Scar and Ron watched, dumbfounded. Their awe deepened, and they felt a wave of relief that they hadn't betrayed this powerful being.
As for Carlos, after a brief moment of shock, he showed no fear. Instead, the burning light in his eyes grew even more intense!
"A Wild Wizard! And one using illegal Casting!" Carlos's voice cracked with excitement. He stared at the boy as if looking at a walking gold mine. "Advanced Nightmare Transformation combined with the talent of a Wizard! A perfect combination! My mentor will go crazy for this!"
He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and barked at the boy,
"Kneel! Give up and stop resisting! Come back with me, and I might let you live as a valuable test subject! Otherwise, just wait for death!"