Hutton’s breath hitched as he stared at the man before him, the name "Hughes" lingering in the air like a ghost of his past. His surroundings—the dim corridor, the shocked faces of his allies—blurred for a moment as memories he had long buried surfaced like a tidal wave.
In his mind, he was no longer Hutton Maxwell, a reincarnated cultivator standing in a worn-out building in Houston. He was Taylor Grayson, a captain leading his regiment during the chaos of World War Three.
The scene shifted to a battlefield. Explosions rocked the earth, and the sky was veiled in ash and smoke. Amid the carnage, Taylor stood side by side with Hughes, a lieutenant from another regiment. Hughes had always been a steady presence, a man of unwavering loyalty and courage. They had fought shoulder to shoulder, their camaraderie forged in the crucible of war.
"Taylor!" Hughes shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire, his voice filled with urgency. "We’re pinned down on the east flank! I’ll take my men and cover you. Get your regiment to safety!"
Taylor had hesitated for a brief moment, knowing the risks Hughes was taking. But there was no time for argument. He nodded firmly, gripping Hughes’ shoulder. "Stay alive, Hughes. I’ll see you on the other side."
Hughes had grinned, his usual confidence shining through even in the direst of moments. "You owe me a drink after this, Captain."
But that drink had never come.
The memory shifted again, this time to a devastating betrayal. Taylor’s regiment had been tragically ambushed in what should have been a safe zone. The trap had been meticulously planned, their forces wiped out mercilessly. And at the center of it all was Timothy—the trusted subordinate Taylor had once treated like a brother. Timothy, now standing with their enemies, a cold smirk on his face as he gave the order that sealed their fates.
"Hughes! Fall back!" Taylor had shouted, desperation lacing his voice. But Hughes had been too far away, his position overrun by the enemy. Taylor had seen it all—the moment Hughes and his men were slaughtered, their final stand a testament to their unwavering loyalty.
And then, darkness.
Back in the present, Hutton blinked rapidly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The memory faded, but the pain remained. He had never been able to say goodbye to Hughes, never had the chance to apologize for failing to protect him. And yet, here he was, standing before him—or at least, someone who bore his face and presence.
"Hughes…" Hutton repeated, his voice barely audible, tinged with a mix of sorrow and disbelief. His composure returned quickly, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Was this truly Hughes? Was it someone else who oddly has the same facial structure? Or had fate played some cruel twist, bringing his old friend back into his life in this unfamiliar world?
Before he could say another word, Hughes—or the man before him—suddenly spoke in a chilling and unfamiliar tone to Hutton. "This is the end of the road for you"
The air grew heavy with tension as Hutton’s gaze hardened, masking the flicker of emotion that had surfaced moments ago. Bob, noticing his strange demeanor, took a step closer and asked cautiously, "Hutton, is something wrong?"
Hutton blinked, his expression shifting back to its usual calm resolve. "Nothing’s wrong," he replied evenly, though the faint tremor in his voice hinted otherwise. He turned his attention back to Hughes, the smirk on the man’s face only fueling the fire in his chest.
With a deep breath, Hutton squared his shoulders and addressed Hughes directly. "Let’s see if this is truly the end of the road for me."
The smirk on Hughes’ face widened into a grin. "Bold words. Let’s see if you can back them up."
Without warning, both Hutton and Bob launched themselves forward with blistering speed, their movements blurring as they closed the gap between themselves and the three figures. The corridor echoed with the sound of clashing blows as the two forces collided like thunder meeting lightning.
Hutton’s strikes were precise and devastating, his every move carrying the weight of his cultivation and combat experience. His fists crackled with raw energy as he aimed a barrage of blows at Hughes, who dodged and parried with a skill that spoke volumes of his own power. Sparks flew as their auras clashed, the sheer pressure of their battle threatening to tear the corridor apart.
Meanwhile, Bob faced off against one of Hughes’ accomplices—a towering woman with a cold, detached expression. Her movements were fluid and deadly, her attacks laced with sharp, cutting energy. But Bob met her ferocity head-on, his battle-hardened instincts and brute strength allowing him to hold his ground.
The third figure, a lean man with sharp eyes and a sinister grin, watched the chaos unfold with eerie calm before stepping in to assist Hughes.
Veronica, standing further back, clenched her fists as she watched the battle rage on. Her keen senses told her all she needed to know—these three were above her in cultivation, their power leagues beyond her current abilities. As much as she wanted to join the fight, she knew she would only be a liability.
Turning her attention to Kenneth, Jake, Everlyn, and Lily, she made her decision. "I’ll stay back and guard you all," she declared, her tone resolute.
Kenneth nodded, his fingers still on the tracking device, though his expression was tense as he glanced toward the ongoing clash. Jake, still recovering from his earlier ordeal, clenched his fists in frustration, unable to do anything but watch. Everlyn and Lily huddled close together, their eyes wide with fear as the sounds of battle echoed through the corridor.
Veronica positioned herself between them and the fight, her senses on high alert for any possible ambushes. Though the urge to charge in and help Hutton and Bob gnawed at her, she forced herself to stay put. Her mission was clear—protect the others and ensure their safety.
As the battle raged on, the walls of the corridor trembled, cracks forming in the worn-out structure. The outcome of the clash was uncertain, but one thing was clear—Hutton and Bob were up against enemies who would not go down easily. And somewhere in the chaos, the truth about Hughes—and the reason for his sudden appearance in such a place—remained a mystery that Hutton was determined to uncover.
The corridor trembled with the aftershocks of every clash, the sheer power from Hutton, Bob, and the trio tearing through the air like thunder. Hutton’s fists collided with Hughes in a flurry of strikes, each one aiming to find an opening in the man’s seemingly impenetrable defense. Bob, meanwhile, was locked in a fierce duel with the towering woman, his strength and precision barely keeping up with her relentless assaults. The lean man aiding Hughes darted in and out of combat, taking every opportunity to exploit Hutton’s blind spots.
As another bout of blows left the corridor filled with dust and rubble, Hutton stepped back, his breathing steady but his brow furrowed in thought. He glanced at Bob, who was still trading heavy hits with his opponent, and then at Hughes, who seemed almost gleeful in his resistance.
"This isn’t going anywhere," Hutton muttered under his breath. He clenched his fists, and a faint, dangerous glow began to emit from his palms. It was a move he had discovered while in isolation with a Bob and spent countless nights practicing—a technique he hadn’t perfected yet but knew could turn the tide of this battle.
"Time to end this," he said to himself as he gathered his energy. His aura surged, filling the air with a palpable pressure that caused even Hughes to falter momentarily.
With a sudden burst of speed, Hutton lunged forward. His movements became almost ethereal, as though he was gliding through space. In an instant, he unleashed his technique—Celestial Rift. A blinding arc of energy shot forth from his palm, slicing through the air with devastating precision. The lean man aiding Hughes barely had time to react before the attack struck him head-on, sending him crashing into the wall with a deafening explosion. He slumped to the ground, defeated.
Hughes, caught in the aftershock of the move, stumbled backward, dazed. Hutton didn’t waste the opportunity. With a swift, calculated strike to a pressure point, he rendered Hughes unconscious, his body collapsing to the floor.
Meanwhile, Bob let out a roar as he unleashed his own special move—Crushing Tide. A wave of energy surged from his fists, overwhelming his opponent. The towering woman’s defenses crumbled under the relentless force, and with one final blow, Bob sent her sprawling across the corridor, unconscious.
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The dust settled, leaving Hutton and Bob standing victorious amidst the wreckage. Hutton glanced down at Hughes’ unconscious form, his expression unreadable. "Bob," he said calmly, "can you store him for me? There are… things I need to ask him."
Bob nodded without hesitation. "Got it." With a wave of his hand, he activated a spatial artifact, causing Hughes’ body to vanish into a storage dimension.
Hutton straightened and turned to the others, his voice carrying a commanding tone. "Let’s move. It’s time to meet their bosses."
The group fell into formation, their resolve unshaken despite the intense battle they had just endured. As they moved deeper into the building, the air grew heavier with tension. Whatever awaited them ahead, Hutton knew one thing for certain—he would get the answers he sought, no matter the cost.