As Veronica and Hutton continued down the isolated corridor of Drake 9, the dim light of the sconces casting long shadows on the walls, Veronica suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as she spotted a familiar figure standing a short distance ahead.
Franklin.
The older man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his presence commanding and cold as always. His sharp eyes bore into his daughter as she froze in place, trembling slightly.
"Veronica," Franklin said, his voice calm yet laced with authority, "your job here is done. You can go back now."
Hutton’s gaze flicked between Veronica and Franklin, his expression impassive as he took in the tension between the two.
Veronica hesitated, guilt and regret flooding her features. Her lips quivered as she took a shaky step forward. "Why… why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "This is wrong, Father. You know it is!"
Her teary eyes searched his face for any sign of remorse, but Franklin’s expression hardened instead. His gaze turned cold, and a sharp glint of anger flashed in his eyes as he narrowed them at his daughter.
"You dare question me?" he began, his tone low but filled with restrained fury.
Before Franklin could say more, Hutton stepped forward, placing a firm yet gentle hand on Veronica’s shoulder.
"Hey," Hutton said softly, his voice steady and calm, "it’s alright."
Veronica flinched at his touch, her emotions spiraling further. The unexpected kindness in his voice only deepened her guilt. She bit her lip, unable to meet his eyes as tears began to spill down her cheeks.
"I—" she stammered, but the weight of her emotions and the situation was too much. She shook her head, stepping away from both men. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking.
Franklin didn’t say a word, his eyes narrowing further as he watched his daughter crumble under the pressure.
Hutton’s expression remained unreadable as he kept his gaze on Veronica, watching her with an almost detached curiosity.
Eventually, Veronica nodded to herself, as if forcing her resolve. "I’ll… I’ll go back now," she said quietly, her voice devoid of its earlier strength. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her head bowed, her figure trembling as she disappeared down the corridor.
Once she was gone, the silence between Hutton and Franklin was heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Hutton slowly withdrew his hand from where it had rested on Veronica’s shoulder, his eyes now locked onto Franklin’s.
"So," Hutton said casually, breaking the silence, "are we going to pretend this isn’t as shady as it looks?"
Franklin’s lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "That depends. Are you going to play along or make this difficult?"
Hutton’s smirk didn’t reach his eyes as he crossed his arms, leaning slightly to the side. "Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?"
But Franklin suddenly did a strange grin right after Hutton leaned slightly to the side as he began preparing to voice whatever twisted thought lingered in his mind. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, Hutton straightened and cut him off with a calm yet firm tone.
"Don’t bother, Franklin," Hutton said, his voice steady, echoing faintly in the corridor. "I already know about the talismans you’ve placed in the walls here. A pretty clever setup, I’ll admit, but predictable for someone like you."
Franklin’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as he straightened.
"And," Hutton continued, his gaze sharp as steel, "why don’t we skip the theatrics and get your lackeys out of hiding?"
Franklin’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his calm demeanor masking whatever thoughts raced through his mind.
Hutton took a step forward, his voice carrying an edge of authority. "Come on, I know they’re here. You can come out now."
There was a moment of tense silence before the shadows stirred around them. One by one, figures stepped out of their hiding spots—lurking in the recessed corners of the corridor and behind decorative panels. Among them was Sean, standing at the forefront, his face set in a smug expression as he folded his arms.
The group of enforcers surrounded Hutton, forming a loose but threatening circle. Franklin’s grin returned as he surveyed the scene, confidence radiating off him.
"You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that," Franklin said with a low chuckle. "But tell me, Hutton, what exactly do you think you can do now? You’re all alone. There’s no way you can take on all of us or even dream of escaping."
For a moment, Hutton stood silently, his eyes scanning the room. His relaxed posture and faint smirk seemed to irritate Franklin further, but Hutton’s expression didn’t waver.
Then, he spoke with quiet confidence. "Who said I was alone?"
The air grew thick with tension as Franklin’s grin froze, confusion flickering across his face. Suddenly, there was a shift in the atmosphere—a sharp, almost imperceptible ripple.
Before anyone could react, Bob appeared beside Hutton, seemingly out of nowhere. His hazelnut hair gleamed faintly under the corridor lights, and his expression was one of cold determination.
Franklin’s eyes widened in shock, his calm façade breaking for the first time. "Impossible," he hissed under his breath.
The enforcers, including Sean, visibly tensed at Bob’s sudden arrival. The weight of his presence was palpable, an unspoken warning that things were about to take a drastic turn.
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Hutton glanced at Bob and offered a faint smirk. "Took you long enough."
Bob’s gaze didn’t leave Franklin and his group as he replied, his tone calm yet commanding, "Figured I’d give you a head start. Looks like you had things under control."
Franklin’s shock quickly morphed into anger as he stepped forward, his voice rising. "Do you think one more man changes anything, Hutton? You’re still outnumbered!"
Hutton met Franklin’s glare head-on, his smirk widening. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t bet on those odds if I were you."
The tension in the room reached a boiling point, the air charged with anticipation as both sides prepared for what was about to unfold. Franklin’s confidence had taken a hit, but his determination remained steadfast.
And as for Hutton and Bob, their calm exteriors betrayed none of the intensity simmering beneath the surface. They were ready.
The corridor of Drake 9 became a battlefield as Hutton and Bob moved with unmatched speed and precision. Franklin’s lackeys, though numerous and well-trained, were no match for the sheer power and technique of the two Core Formation cultivators.
Hutton moved like a tempest, his strikes precise and devastating. A single sweep of his Heavenly Palm sent three opponents crashing into the walls, their talismans and weapons scattering uselessly. Bob, on the other hand, was a blur of motion, his fists like iron hammers that shattered the defenses of anyone who dared come close.
"Is this the best you’ve got?" Hutton taunted, his smirk barely faltering as he sidestepped an attack and retaliated with a sharp kick that sent another lackey sprawling.
Franklin, standing back, watched in growing frustration as his enforcers were systematically dismantled. His confident smirk was gone, replaced with a deep scowl as the last of his men fell to the floor, groaning in pain.
Breathing heavily, Franklin’s fists clenched at his sides. He glanced between Hutton and Bob, the pair now standing side by side with not a single scratch on them.
"Looks like your plan’s falling apart," Bob said coolly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
Franklin’s eyes darted around, searching desperately for a way out, his mind racing. But before he could come up with an escape, a decrepit feminine voice echoed through the corridor, stopping everyone in their tracks.
"Well, well, Franklin," the voice rasped, dripping with mockery and malice. "It seems you’ve bitten off more than you can chew."
Hutton and Bob froze, their senses immediately heightened as they felt an ominous shift in the atmosphere. From the shadows, two figures stepped forward, their presence commanding and otherworldly.
The first was a middle-aged woman draped in tattered robes that billowed around her despite the still air. Her aura was strange and unsettling, as though reality itself warped slightly in her presence. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of madness and calculation, her thin lips curling into a twisted smile.
The second figure was even more shocking—a boy who appeared no older than fifteen. His youthful face was unnervingly calm, but his aura was an embodiment of death itself. The air around him grew cold, and a faint mist began to creep along the floor as he stepped forward, his lifeless eyes fixed on Hutton and Bob.
The oppressive weight of their presence made Hutton and Bob stiffen instinctively. Both of them exchanged a brief glance, silently acknowledging the danger they now faced.
’Nascent soul Cultivators’
Franklin’s scowl transformed into a triumphant grin as he straightened, his confidence flooding back. "Ah, you’ve finally arrived," he said, addressing the newcomers with a tone of respect and relief.
Turning back to Hutton, Franklin’s grin widened, his voice laced with smugness. "Well, Hutton," he said, spreading his arms theatrically, "do you still have a trick up your sleeve? Because it looks like you’ll need one now."
Hutton’s jaw tightened, his smirk fading as his eyes locked onto the boy and the woman. He could feel the overwhelming power radiating from them, each a threat far greater than anything they had faced tonight.
Bob’s fists clenched at his sides, his hazelnut hair disheveled but his resolve unwavering. "This just got a whole lot more complicated," he muttered under his breath.
Hutton exhaled slowly, his voice calm but tense. "Stay sharp. They’re not ordinary cultivators."
The woman chuckled darkly, her voice sending chills down their spines. "Oh, don’t worry. You’ll find out just how extraordinary we are soon enough."
And with that, the tension in the corridor thickened, the faint sound of creaking talismans and the oppressive silence heralding the next deadly clash.