CHAPTER 204: THE HIDDEN WITNESSES

The earth still trembled faintly, long after the light had faded.

A low hum coursed through the air like the aftermath of a thunderstorm, distorting the fog around Blinding Town’s outskirts into swirling ribbons of white.

Two figures moved quietly through the mist — cloaked, careful, and alert.

Timothy crouched low, one hand pressed to the damp earth. The ground was still warm, radiating faint pulses of energy that climbed up his arm like static.

He glanced at Hughes beside him. "You felt that too, right?"

Hughes nodded slowly, eyes sharp behind his hood. "Hard not to. That wasn’t a normal tremor. Whatever that blast was—it came from the heart of the fog."

They both turned toward the distant hillside, where the faint glow of collapsing stone still shimmered beneath the haze.

That was where the explosion had come from.

Timothy narrowed his eyes, squinting past the drifting layers of fog until he caught sight of faint silhouettes—three of them.

"Wait..." he whispered. "Look there."

Through the shifting veil, three figures stood at the base of the destroyed cave. One had his arms crossed, face stern and unreadable. The other was pacing back and forth, visibly agitated. The third, leaner and calmer, seemed to be analyzing the remnants of the collapsed entrance, a faint gleam of light glowing in his palm.

Bob.

Boma.

Julian.

Timothy’s breath hitched.

Hughes leaned closer. "You recognize them?"

Timothy hesitated for a long moment before whispering, "Yeah. Don’t you?" His voice carried a tremor that wasn’t just from the cold. "That’s... Hutton’s crew."

Hughes turned sharply. "The fugitives?"

Timothy nodded. His heart was pounding. "It has to be. Look at them—they’re not hiding, they’re guarding. Whatever’s in that cave... it’s important."

The two crouched deeper into the brush as another small quake rumbled beneath them. Dust and broken rock rolled down from the hillside. The air around the ruins shimmered faintly, as though an unseen force was still leaking from within the broken cave.

A faint, melodic hum echoed through the trees — the same resonance they had felt minutes ago when the sky had glowed blue.

Hughes clenched his jaw. "Tim, maybe we should leave. This isn’t something we can—"

But Timothy didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on Bob, who suddenly raised his head sharply, scanning the treeline.

"Shit," Timothy whispered. "He’s sensing something."

The two instantly froze. Not even a breath escaped.

Bob’s gaze swept the mist, piercing, deliberate. For a second, it felt as if his eyes had met Timothy’s through the fog. Then, after a tense pause, he looked away, muttering something to Boma.

Hughes exhaled slowly, relief washing over him. "That was close."

"Too close," Timothy murmured, but his tone was oddly distant. He was still staring at the fallen cave, his mind racing.

A faint light flickered again from within the rubble — deep, rhythmic, alive.

"Do you feel that?" he asked quietly.

Hughes frowned. "Feel what?"

"The... pulse. It’s like something’s still breathing in there."

Hughes listened. Beneath the silence of the night, beneath the faint wind whispering through the fog, there was something — a dull thrum, like the heartbeat of the earth itself.

The sound sent chills crawling up their spines.

"Whatever’s in there," Hughes muttered, "I don’t think it’s human anymore."

Timothy didn’t reply. His eyes darkened with something between fear and guilt.

He knew that energy.

He had felt it once before — back when he worked under Hutton, when he had seen him crashout up close for the first time.

That same radiance. That same overwhelming, destructive pressure.

It couldn’t be anyone else.

"Hutton..." Timothy whispered, his throat dry. "You’re here."

A sudden gust swept through the trees, cold and sharp. The fog thickened, curling like smoke.

Both men turned instinctively, sensing movement — faint footsteps, deliberate, approaching from behind them through the mist.

Hughes’s hand went straight to his concealed weapon. "Someone’s coming."

But before they could move, a quiet voice drifted through the fog — smooth, controlled, and unsettlingly calm.

"Curious little mice," the voice said. "Always peeking into burrows that aren’t theirs."

Timothy froze. Hughes slowly turned, eyes wide.

Through the mist, a silhouette emerged — tall, cloaked, his presence oppressive yet composed. His aura pressed down on the air like gravity itself, bending the mist around him.

The World Class cultivator had returned.

He wasn’t looking at Bob or the cave this time.

He was looking straight at them.

And when he smiled, it wasn’t out of warmth. It was the kind of smile that said he had known they were there all along.

"Since you’ve already come this far," he said softly, his eyes gleaming under the fog, "why don’t we... discuss what you’ve seen?"

The fog swallowed the three figures whole.

And then — silence.

Meanwhile, the fog had yet to settle around Bob and the others.

It hung low across the hills like a restless spirit, rippling faintly as if the earth beneath it still remembered the shock that had shaken the World Vein.

Bob stood near the fallen entrance, his expression grave. His eyes, sharp and trained, never left the cracked ground before the cave. The air around it hummed with unstable energy — faint, but enough to keep his instincts on edge.

Julian was silent beside him, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between the fallen stones and the fading sigil still burning faintly above the clouds.

Boma paced back and forth, fists clenched tight. "It’s been almost an hour," he muttered. "She went in there alone... what if something—"

Bob’s hand rose slightly, silencing him. "She’s fine," he said quietly. "If something had gone wrong, we’d know. The Vein itself would’ve collapsed by now."

Julian tilted his head, listening. "Still... that energy we felt earlier — it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even human. Whatever Hutton did inside that cave... it’s changed him."

The words hung in the cold air like a weight.

No one replied.

Then, suddenly — a faint sound echoed from within the collapsed entrance.

A stone rolled down. Then another.

The three men turned sharply. Bob took a cautious step forward, his Qi flaring subtly around him. The mist parted.

And from within the smoke and dust — a silhouette emerged.

Everlyn.

Her clothes were torn and dusted with ash, but her expression was calm. In her arms — limp, pale, and faintly glowing with an otherworldly light — was Hutton Maxwell.

Even unconscious, his presence was overwhelming. Faint veins of golden light traced across his skin like cracks in porcelain, pulsing with slow, rhythmic beats — the echo of the God Crystals still active within him.

Everlyn staggered slightly under his weight, but her grip was steady. She lowered him gently onto the ground.

"He’s alive," she said, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "But something inside him has awakened. The Vein tried to reject him... and he forced it open."

Boma dropped to one knee beside Hutton immediately. "Hutton..." he whispered, his expression twisting between awe and fear. "What the hell did you do in there?"

Julian crouched nearby, his analytical eyes scanning Hutton’s body. "His energy signature... it’s unstable. There’s something else resonating with his core. It’s not just the God Crystal anymore."

Everlyn nodded faintly. "He’s crossed a line mortals aren’t meant to cross."

Bob’s gaze flickered to her. "Then we need to move him. The longer we stay here, the worse this place will attract attention."

But before Everlyn could respond—

The wind shifted.

The mist thickened around them, curling unnaturally. From all directions came the faint sound of movement — soft, synchronized footsteps.

Bob turned instantly, his hand already on his weapon. "Seems like my instincts were right, we’re not alone."

Figures began to materialize through the fog — dozens of them, dressed in sleek black combat garb, faces hidden behind silver masks. They moved with precision, forming a silent perimeter around the group.

Boma’s eyes widened. "How the hell did they sneak up on us?"

Julian’s voice dropped to a whisper. "These aren’t normal assassins. Their Qi is refined — disciplined."

The fog parted once more.

And from between the masked fighters, a single young man stepped forward.

He couldn’t have been older than his early twenties — youthful, composed, with sharp, unreadable eyes. His black hair was neatly combed back, his attire immaculate — a stark contrast to the battlefield atmosphere.

Every step he took seemed to command the mist to move aside for him.

The air changed around him — calm, yet suffocating. Power radiated from him not through force, but presence.

Everlyn’s eyes narrowed instantly. She recognized the weight of that aura — refined, trained, and bred from lineage. A World Class Family heir.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her tone steady but cold.

The young man stopped a few paces away, his gaze sliding briefly over Bob, Boma, and Julian before resting on Hutton’s unconscious body.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate — almost disarmingly polite.

"So it’s true," he said softly. "The God Crystal’s resonance led us here."

He looked up at Everlyn, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve done well hiding him, Madam Mayor. But the storm you fear has already arrived."

Everlyn’s hands tightened at her side. "And who exactly are you to decide that?"

The young man tilted his head slightly, as if amused.

"Names are irrelevant to those who won’t live long enough to remember them."

The black-clothed fighters shifted subtly, hands ready on their weapons.

Boma took a defensive stance instantly. "Try us, pretty boy."

But before anyone could move — the young man raised a hand.

The air stilled.

Not just the mist — everything. The wind, the rustle of leaves, even the faint hum of the cave’s energy froze in place, suspended in eerie silence.

Bob’s eyes widened. "Spatial lockdown—!?"

Everlyn’s instincts screamed danger. "Everyone, brace yourselves—!"

The young man’s eyes flickered with faint silver light as he smiled faintly.

"Let’s see if the fugitives of Cornerstone are worth the attention you’ve earned."

He lowered his hand.

And the world erupted.

A blinding wave of energy surged outward from his body, shattering the fog like glass and flattening the ground in a perfect circle around him. The masked fighters drew their blades in unison, their movements seamless — like one entity acting under a single mind.

Bob reacted instantly, his Qi flaring as he lunged forward to block the first incoming strike. Boma’s roar followed, his aura blazing like a furnace as he met two attackers head-on.

Julian vanished from sight, his form flickering like shadow through mist, reappearing behind the enemy lines.

But even amidst the chaos — the young man stood still, calm, unshaken, his gaze fixed on Hutton’s body.

"You’ve held my family’s treasure long enough," he murmured. "It’s time it came home."

As he raised his hand, the God Crystal within Hutton’s chest pulsed violently in response — glowing as if recognizing its master.

Everlyn’s eyes widened in horror. "No..."

The glow intensified — bright, blinding, divine.

And in that instant — the young man smiled faintly and whispered:

"Give me back my Fragment of the Old Star."

The light exploded, swallowing the entire hill in pure radiance.