CHAPTER 223: CALLING IN A FAVOR

The Green Clover restaurant headquarters was unusually quiet.

Kenneth stood at the center of Hutton’s office turned makeshift command center. Maps, notes, and scattered surveillance reports filled the tables. Veronica typed on a laptop, her fingers trembling from exhaustion, while Everlyn stood near the window, arms folded, eyes alert.

They were rebuilding the Hidden Eye Agency from scratch —

a mission that felt like climbing out of a grave.

But nothing prepared them for what happened next.

The television behind them flickered.

A breaking news banner flashed across the screen.

BREAKING NEWS: FUGITIVE HUTTON MAXWELL CAPTURED BY ELITE DORNE FAMILY FORCES.

Kenneth froze mid-step. His coffee cup slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

Veronica gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Everlyn’s fists clenched slowly yet became so hard her nails drew blood.

On the screen, blurry footage showed black-suited cultivators dragging Hutton, barely conscious, into a reinforced convoy.

Among them...

Aurelian Dorne himself.

Kenneth whispered, voice cracking,

"No... no, no, no. This can’t... this can’t be real."

Veronica collapsed onto a chair, shaking.

"They caught him. They actually caught him... and Aurelian Dorne was there—this is... this is world-ending."

Everlyn gritted her teeth.

"What are we going to do now..."

Kenneth ran both hands through his hair, pacing like a caged animal.

"Hutton... why didn’t you stay hidden!? Why now?!"

But before anyone could answer—

BOOM.

From their monitors, they saw that the front doors of Green Clover blew open.

Wind rattled every window as a suffocating aura washed through the building—dense, sharp, and ancient.

Three figures walked inside.

Black robes. Red trim.

Each one carrying a pressure strong enough to bend wooden beams as everyone that was seated at that floor were forcefully being sent out.

Seeing this, Kenneth with the others quickly ran down to that floor to confront those people. But as soon as they got there, Kenneth staggered back.

"W–World Class cultivators...? Inside Green Clover?"

Veronica’s voice trembled,

"Who... who are they?"

The leader of the group smirked slightly, eyes glowing faintly gold.

"We’re here for Hutton Maxwell’s affairs," he said calmly. "All businesses, assets, and connections he holds must be inspected by order of the Dorne Family."

Everlyn swore sharply under her breath.

Kenneth felt his heart hammering painfully, but he stepped forward—

he had to try.

"You have no jurisdiction here," he said, voice cracking. "This is Cornerstone City. Green Clover is a private enterprise—"

The cultivator’s aura tightened around Kenneth’s throat, choking off his words.

"We have jurisdiction," the man said, "because Hutton Maxwell is no longer under your city’s laws."

Veronica stood, hand trembling on the table.

"What is that supposed to mean...?"

"It means," the cultivator answered, "he is now under the Alliance’s custody."

Kenneth’s knees nearly buckled.

Everlyn’s eyes widened in horror.

Veronica whispered, visibly shaken

"So he’s... already that deep in?"

The cultivators didn’t respond.

They didn’t need to.

The message was already clear:

Hutton wasn’t just captured.

He was devoured by something larger than the entire country.

---

Meanwhile, in the ever bustling city called Star City....

Vivian sat on the edge of the luxurious bed that is in a presidential suite of her dad’s hotel, her hands trembling as she stared at the holographic broadcast projected across the room.

Hutton unconscious.

Dragged by Dorne enforcers.

Aurelian Dorne watching with cold eyes.

Her breath hitched.

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t even form words.

Powell, her father, stood behind her with a heavy sigh.

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Vivian... you need to stop watching."

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to the image.

Powell’s voice softened, though sadness weighed every word.

"I know you care for him. I know he’s helped both you and me... more than once. But this is beyond anything we can influence."

Vivian finally responded, voice cracking:

"Dad... they’re treating him like an animal..."

Powell tightened his jaw.

"That’s because to the Dorne Family... he is."

Vivian snapped her head toward him.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"It means," Powell said quietly, "that the moment a World Class family lays hands on someone... that person is already gone."

Vivian shook her head, tears spilling.

"No. No, I don’t accept that. Hutton is... Hutton is smarter than this. Stronger. He always finds a way—"

"Not this time," Powell whispered. "The ones who took him... are the kind of people who make entire governments kneel."

Vivian looked back at the screen as new footage played —

Hutton being transported into a reinforced aircraft shaped like a temple.

Her heart felt like it was tearing open.

Powell gently pulled her into a hug.

"Vivian... you can’t do anything for him now. Please... don’t throw yourself into a death trap."

Vivian clenched her fists.

But deep inside...

Part of her knew he was right.

Yet another part...

burned to find a way.

---

But just as Vivian was desperately trying to figure out a way she could help Hutton, there was a small mansion located at the outskirts of Star City.

This small, quiet mansion was wrapped in thick fog — the outskirts weren’t densely populated, and the silence made the air feel colder.

Julian sat on the couch, staring at the TV in disbelief, hands shaking.

"No... Hutton... This can’t be..."

Boma stood before the screen like a statue, eyes narrowed, arms folded, his massive presence filling the room.

The footage repeated:

Hutton being bound.

Dorne cultivators restraining him.

Aurelian overseeing everything.

Julian’s voice cracked.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now? Hutton is... he’s gone, isn’t he?"

Boma didn’t answer.

Julian swallowed.

"Sir B-Boma?"

Still no response.

Then finally...

Boma took a slow breath.

"I had hoped," he said quietly, "that I would never have to do this."

Julian blinked, confused.

Boma walked toward an old wooden cabinet in the corner — one Julian had never seen him open before. He reached behind it, pressing something hidden.

A click rang out.

The back of the cabinet slid open, revealing a metal safe.

Julian’s eyes widened.

"Boma... what is that?"

Boma didn’t look back.

"It’s a favor," he said, voice solemn. "One that I have held onto for fourteen years. A last resort."

He typed a code. The safe hissed open.

Inside was a single black jade tablet — glowing with faint cyan inscriptions.

Julian’s jaw dropped.

"A... Soulbound Jade Seal...?"

Boma finally turned to him, expression grim.

"This seal belongs to someone powerful enough to challenge the World Class Families."

Julian’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"You... you mean—"

"Yes," Boma said softly. "I’m calling in that favor."

Julian swallowed hard, adrenaline shooting through him.

"Boma... if you call that person... you’re starting a war."

Boma nodded.

"I know."

He lifted the jade tablet, the runes lighting up as if recognizing an old bond.

"And for Hutton," he said, "I am willing to start one."

The tablet flared, sending a pulse through the room —

a pulse strong enough to shatter the nearby window.

A signal had been sent.

To someone dangerous.

Someone ancient.

Someone who owed Boma a life.

Julian stared at him, trembling.

"Who... who did you just call?"

Boma didn’t answer.

But his expression said everything.

Someone the World Class Families were terrified of.

And just as Boma was potentially gonna start a war, Darkness pulsed like liquid behind Hutton’s eyelids at this moment.

Hutton’s consciousness drifted somewhere between dream and death, between memory and nothingness — until a cold splash of reality stabbed through his senses.

His eyes snapped open.

A sharp, metallic scent hit him first.

Then the sting on his wrists.

Then the crushing pressure on his spine.

He tried to move.

He couldn’t.

His arms were pinned tight.

His ankles locked.

His torso immobilized.

Straps — thick ones — ran across his chest and limbs, glowing faintly with runic inscriptions that hummed every time he breathed.

Slowly, Hutton lifted his gaze.

A single spotlight shone down on him, harsh and white, drowning everything else in shadow.

The room was huge — he could feel it in the echo of his breath — but the darkness hid its walls.

Then he heard it.

Whispers.

Layers of them.

Low.

Sinister.

Indistinguishable.

Shadows shifted beyond the light, forming the silhouettes of dozens of people circling him.

He couldn’t make out a single face.

But their eyes...

Faint glimmers of red, gold, and icy blue stared back through the dark.

The air thickened, heavy with cultivation pressure so strong it made Hutton’s skin prickle and his bones vibrate.

A voice finally broke through the whispering chorus.

Deep.

Ancient.

Cold enough to frost the breath in Hutton’s throat.

"Awake, are we?"

Hutton clenched his jaw, trying to steady his breath.

Another voice answered, this one sharp and venomous:

"So this is the reincarnated anomaly."

A ripple of murmurs followed.

Another shadow leaned forward, the edge of his robe briefly catching the light:

"You killed a son of the Dorne family."

Hutton felt his pulse spike. His heart hammered like a war drum inside his ribs.

His vision adjusted slightly, letting him see vague shapes of thrones... banners... and sigils etched into the distant stone.

He was in a hall.

A grand one.

Not a prison.

A tribunal.

A place meant for judgment.

A place meant for execution.

Footsteps echoed faintly — a slow, unhurried stroll — and every shadow fell silent.

Hutton’s fingers curled into fists.

He recognized that presence.

It was the same aura that eclipsed the sky when he was taken.

The same aura that felt like a mountain pressing onto his soul.

Aurelian Dorne stepped forward — not fully visible, just an outline in the darkness.

But his voice was unmistakable.

"You will answer for your crimes, Hutton Maxwell."

Hutton met the silhouette’s gaze, even though he couldn’t see it.

"Crimes...?"

The restraints glowed brighter as if reacting to his rising qi.

Aurelian’s voice hardened to steel.

"Your crimes from this life...

and the crimes from the life before it."

The hall fell silent.

Every shadow leaned closer.

Hutton’s breath caught.

They knew.

They knew everything.

Aurelian spoke again —

slower, colder, and far more dangerous:

"Let the questioning begin."

And then—

THUD.

The doors behind the hall slammed open with a force that made the ground tremble.

A new presence entered.

One Hutton recognized instantly —

one whose qi flared with a violent, storm-like intensity.

The shadows began to murmur in shock.

Aurelian turned.

Hutton’s eyes widened.

Because the person stepping into the hall...

wasn’t supposed to even know he was here.