Chapter 38: Black-Clad Bodyguard

Chapter 38: Black-Clad Bodyguard

Lyman was completely lost.

He had followed Sylen into Fergus's villa, expecting to see a tear-jerking sibling reunion—the sister embracing her brother and crying, "You've finally come, I've waited so long," and the brother holding his sister and sobbing, "I'll never let you suffer again," with moving background music playing (Lyman wouldn't mind humming the soundtrack himself), leading to a happy ending.

But then... wait, what? This wasn't what he expected at all!

"She's not your sister?" Lyman's face scrunched up in confusion.

Sylen shook his head. Lady Pearl's body type was similar to his sister's, but her appearance was completely different, and she looked several years younger.

The hope that had just sparked in him was crushed in an instant. He felt like he'd fallen into an endless abyss, too drained to even respond.

Lady Pearl was frozen for a moment before it hit her—a stranger had barged into her space!

She was about to scream, but Sylen lunged forward and clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Don't shout! I'm a friend of Mare's!"

He fumbled around and pulled out a pearl earring, waving it in front of Lady Pearl's eyes. "Mare gave me this token!"

The mermaid's eyes widened, and she gave a slight nod. Sylen felt her tense up, then relax a little, so he released his hand.

Lady Pearl pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her breathing. She took the earring and clutched it tightly.

"Mare... she never sold this..." she murmured.

Sylen finally calmed down too, realizing Mare had never said Lady Pearl was his sister—he'd just assumed it.

Xiaoqi chimed in from the side: "Even though she's not your sister, that doesn't change our plan. Let's just stick to it!"

Sylen agreed silently. He introduced himself to Lady Pearl: "My name is Sylen. Mare sent me to find you. Tonight we're raiding this place and killing Fergus!"

"Ah!" Lady Pearl gasped and quickly covered her mouth.

Sylen didn't get why she reacted like that. Shouldn't she be thrilled that someone came to rescue her? Unless she was worried he couldn't take on Fergus and his black-clad bodyguard?

"No, you can't kill Lord Fergus!" Lady Pearl shook her head violently, her long, silky hair whipping around as she shook her head.

"Why not?" Sylen asked, puzzled.

"If he dies, all his property—including the slaves—will go to his distant nephew. That man is very, very evil. He makes people into food." Lady Pearl shuddered.

Sylen clenched his fists, furious, but he kept his voice calm: "Don't be afraid. We won't let you end up with bad people. Once Fergus is dead, you'll be free!"

"...Free?" Lady Pearl repeated the word blankly, like she didn't understand what it meant.

Sylen wondered if her human language skills weren't good enough to understand him. So he switched to the mermaid language: "The transport station will get you out of the city."

Lady Pearl blinked, then said sadly: "We'll just get caught by someone else and end up as slaves anyway. And other masters might be even worse, so... wouldn't it be better to just stay with Lord Fergus..."

Sylen said earnestly: "You can go back to the sea—go home!"

Lady Pearl winced and said: "I was born on land. I've never even seen the sea."

Sylen opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He'd assumed everyone wanted to go home like he did, but he never imagined some people didn't even have a home to go back to...

Lady Pearl looked at Mare's earring and said: "I gave Mare this earring as traveling money when she escaped. But I..."

Sylen tried to reassure her: "Don't be scared! Someone will protect you! I'll protect you!"

Lady Pearl looked terrified, like just the thought of leaving the villa scared her.

"I'm not leaving. I'd just slow you down. I'm fine here. At least I have food and clothes, and nobody hits me. The outside world... isn't any better."

She took off her sapphire-and-silver necklace and her gold bangles, and shoved them, along with the pearl mask and earrings, into Sylen's arms.

"Take these and go! The master will be back soon. You can still get out of here. I'll make sure the butler keeps quiet."

Sylen didn't know whether to take them or not, staring at her in confusion.

Lady Pearl grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. The more he resisted, the more determined she got.

"At least I have to rescue my sister!" Sylen shouted. "Her name is Irina Moon-Tide. She'll definitely come with me!"

Lady Pearl's beautiful, jewel-like eyes went wide.

"Then you definitely can't touch Lord Fergus!" she said. "Please, go now! Once the master gets back, you won't be able to leave!"

Sylen gritted his teeth and chopped Lady Pearl on the neck. Her eyes rolled back and she went limp.

Just as she was about to hit the rocks, Sylen caught her and gently laid her down.

Looking at Lady Pearl's face, Sylen felt a dark, restless feeling churning in his chest. He used to think saving his people was just about breaking their chains. Now he realized that wasn't nearly enough...

"Sylen!" Xiaoqi's voice snapped him out of it. "Now we need to figure out how to handle Fergus!"

Sylen pulled himself together, took the Message Conch out of the Divine Casket, and whispered, "Mare?"

"Sylen! Did you see Pearl?" Mare's voice came through the conch, clear as if she were right next to him.

"I saw her. She wouldn't cooperate, so I knocked her out. I'll pretend to be Lady Pearl and find a chance to kill Fergus."

He heard Mare suck in a pained breath.

"I should've known." She let out a bitter laugh. "Forget her for now. We're all set on our end. When you need us, just say the code word 'fox.'"

Sylen stripped off his clothes, put on Lady Pearl's, wore all her jewelry, and clipped the conch to his chest like an ornament. He silently apologized to Lady Pearl, then hid her behind a big fake reef. Unless someone walked around to the front of the rock, they'd never see her lying there.

He'd barely finished when the butler came back.

When the butler saw only Lady Pearl by the pool, he was shocked and angry: "Did you let Mare get away again?!"

He said "again"? So he knew about Mare's last escape too? But he kept it from Fergus? Right—Lady Pearl said she'd make the butler keep quiet. They must have been in on it together.

Sylen had a sudden idea and said: "Mare's too pitiful. The master would never go easy on her. As long as you don't tell him, he'll never know she was brought back."

The butler fumed: "Half the servants saw the Slave Hunter show up! How am I supposed to keep them all quiet?"

"Easy. Just say the Slave Hunter grabbed the wrong person. As for him, this should be enough to send him packing."

Sylen slid the gold bangle off his wrist. "One for the Slave Hunter, one for you. That should be enough, right?"

The butler weighed the bangle in his hand, greed flashing in his eyes: "If the master finds out the truth, you take all the blame!"

Sylen smiled: "Don't worry. With me here, the master won't find out a thing."

After all, by tomorrow night he'd be dead—he wouldn't be finding out anything!

The steward pocketed the gold bracelet. Even though no one was around, he still looked furtive and guilty, like a thief with a guilty conscience. "The master will be here soon. Hurry up and get yourself ready!"

He led Sylen to a sitting room in a separate wing and called for two slaves to help the lady get ready. The two slaves—a boy and a girl—looked to be only about ten years old. The young girl slave deftly swept up Lady Pearl's long hair, while the boy knelt to slip golden-threaded slippers onto her feet.

Sylen wasn't used to being waited on. It made him deeply uncomfortable, and he could only sit there stiffly.

Just as his hair was done, Sylen heard a carriage pull up outside the villa, along with the servants' exaggerated fussing and greetings.

Sylen took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said another silent prayer before gripping the dressing table and getting to his feet. The two young slaves obediently followed behind him, lifting the hem of his gown.

The two kids looked strikingly alike, and Sylen figured they must be twins. Thinking about how he still hadn't found his sister, the young man couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment.

"Tell me, where's Irina?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

The two kids exchanged glances, clearly confused.

"Madam, there's no one named Irina in this house."

Sylen was taken aback, wondering if he'd gotten it wrong. But Lady Pearl clearly knew about Irina.

"She's the slave girl bought about half a year ago—Irina Moonshade," he said.

The young girl slave hesitated. "Uh, the master bought several slaves half a year ago. I don't know which one is Irina. They all got renamed the moment they arrived."

Sylen got it. Lady Pearl must have known the slaves' original names. Damn, he should've asked about his sister before knocking her out.

In the dazzling banquet hall, the long table was piled with an array of exquisite dishes that made Sylen's head spin. He'd thought Old Gulehan was extravagant, but compared to Fergus, he was small potatoes.

"Hmph, any one of these dishes alone could probably cover a regular person's food costs for a month," Xiaoqi said bitterly.

Sylen sat down at one end of the long table. Before long, Fergus swept into the dining room.

He had a neatly trimmed beard and a big sapphire pin on his cravat. If you didn't know what he was really like, you'd take him for a refined, elegant gentleman.

Sylen got up to greet him, planning to play the attendant and find a chance to strike. But the moment he took a step, he froze.

A pitch-black figure trailed behind Fergus.

It was that black-clad bodyguard!

Did Fergus really keep him at his side even during meals? Surely he didn't have the guy watching him sleep too?

Fergus casually waved at "Lady Pearl" to sit and took his own seat at the far end of the table. The black-clad man stood silently behind his chair, with a clear view of the entire banquet hall. He could see every move anyone made.

Sylen smiled and sat down, but he was gripping the tablecloth tight.

He and Fergus were at opposite ends of the table—how was he supposed to kill him? If he went straight for him, the black-clad bodyguard would probably get in the way. So he'd have to take care of that guy first.

The servants around them were also a problem. The two young slaves had left, replaced by several well-dressed ones waiting on the meal. The steward was there too, pouring wine for his master before stepping aside. He shot a few annoyed looks at the black-clad bodyguard and hip-checked him out of the way.

Fergus raised his glass from across the table. "What's wrong, my beautiful pearl? You seem a bit down today. Not happy to see me?"

Sylen forced himself to take a sip of wine. "Ah, a slave hunter came by today with a runaway slave. I thought it was Mare, but it turned out to be just someone who looked like her."

At the mention of Mare, Fergus's face darkened.

"That ungrateful wretch!" He slammed his hand on the table, and the slaves all flinched and trembled. "I took pity on her and bought her, and she still dared to run! When I catch her, I'll sell her to a brothel! No—at her age, even a brothel wouldn't take her. Hmph, I'll just send her to the slave market to breed until she drops dead!"

Sylen was horrified, itching to run Fergus through with a sword right then and there. He swallowed his rage and forced a stiff smile. "Master, please don't be angry..."

Fergus's expression suddenly softened. "Of course, my beautiful pearl. I'm only angry because of Mare, not at any of you. As long as you do what I say, why would I ever be angry with you?"

"Yes, Master."

Fergus raised his voice to address all the slaves. "Mare was an idiot. She turned her back on all this gold and silver, all this fine food, to go wandering and hiding outside. Tell me, can those 'free folk' out there ever enjoy things like this? They wake up every day worrying about how to get by, scared they'll be killed by bandits. Aren't your lives a hundred times more comfortable than theirs?"

"...Yes, Master."

"Don't follow Mare's example. You'll end up broke, or get snatched up by some other cruel master, and then it'll be too late for regrets!"

"...Yes, Master..."

Fergus smiled faintly, pushed aside his barely touched food, and said to the steward, "Give this to the staff." Then he added to the slaves, "Those free folk outside will never taste food like this in their whole lives. You're really lucky to have a kind master like me."

"Master, you're so generous!" the steward fawned.

Sylen clenched his jaw silently.

So that's how Fergus controls everyone! he thought.

If Fergus abused his slaves like other slave owners did, everyone would see him for the cold-blooded demon he was and rise up against him.

But he didn't do that. He was "kind" to his slaves, making them think he was benevolent and generous, unlike other masters. He told them the outside world was scarier, that other masters were crueler, so they'd never dare leave him.

He coated arsenic in honey and fed it to them. He dressed his slaves in gold and silver to bind them with gilded chains. He showered them with pearls and jewels, but really, he was just decorating his own furniture, adding shine to himself.

Other slave owners killed the body, but Fergus wanted to crush the spirit itself!

Fergus said, "The one they caught isn't Mare, but if the flower's good quality, we can still buy her."

Sylen subtly touched the shell at his chest and said, "Oh dear, I had the steward send him away. I heard slave hunters are as sly as 'foxes' and do shady business on the side. I was scared."

He'd cleverly dropped the code word "fox" agreed upon with the transport station. Once they heard it, they'd launch a surprise attack on the villa as planned.

The two went back to their meal. Fergus made idle chitchat about business, and Sylen murmured along, careful not to say too much and blow his cover.

About ten minutes later, a sudden racket erupted outside the villa. The night sky lit up with a column of fire shooting into the clouds.

Fergus slammed the table and shot to his feet, furious. "What the hell's going on?!"

Soon a servant came running in: "Master, a group is attacking! They've got horses and weapons—whether they're bandits or..."

"How the hell could there be bandits in Silvermist Fortress?!"

The servant stammered, "Oh, and the leader—half his face is all burned..."

Fergus's brows shot up, and he laughed in fury. "So it's that bastard Winter! No need to worry—that man can't cause much trouble. At best, he's scraped together a bunch of rabble!"

The Fergus and Winter families had once been rivals, locked in bitter business competition. Fergus had gone to great lengths to wipe out their family, but he hadn't finished the job, leaving one threat behind.

After the Winter family fell, Fergus cornered the timber trade in Silvermist Fortress. The last surviving man of the Winter family refused to give up, pestering Fergus now and then—like a buzzing fly, a cockroach that wouldn't die!

Sylen faked terror. "Master, I'm scared! Quick, call your bodyguard..."

Fergus hesitated. If the black-clad bodyguard went out, that rabble would be toast, but he didn't want to send him. What if someone got into the villa? Could he count on the servants around him to hold them off? It didn't matter how many servants died, but he himself couldn't get hurt.

"No need for the bodyguard over something this small." He turned to the steward. "Send someone to get help from the city guard. Open the armory and send out all the household men—reward them by how many they kill. Take some men to guard the grounds and stop them from setting fires."

The steward said "Yes, sir" and withdrew respectfully.

Fergus had lost all appetite for his meal. He shoved the plates and cups aside, tore off his napkin, and shot to his feet. The Black-Clad Bodyguard shadowed his every step. Sylen hurried after them, trying to muscle his way to Fergus's side, but the Black-Clad Bodyguard stood in his way like a wall. Despite his unimpressive, even frail, build, he blocked Sylen completely.

Fergus made his way up to the main rooftop. From here, the entire villa and its surroundings were laid out before them. The villa was nestled in the quietest hill district of the city, surrounded by magnificent manors and estates. Those estate owners only looked after their own interests—as long as the fire didn't reach their property, they wouldn't lift a finger to help. If anything, they'd be secretly gloating at a neighbor's misfortune.

Sylen looked down. In the pitch darkness, dozens of torches flickered and swayed beyond the perimeter wall, with shouts and battle cries carried on the wind. Burning arrows arced across the night sky like meteors. The transport station obviously didn't have this many men—they must have each brought multiple torches to put on a show of force.

"That bastard Winter couldn't possibly round up this many men," Fergus said, gazing at the flames below. "It's definitely a bluff. As long as we hang on, they'll retreat on their own!"

Now, only Sylen, Fergus, and the Black-Clad Bodyguard remained on the rooftop, which made it the perfect moment to strike!

He moved quietly to a position directly behind Fergus, the Apostle Card already in hand. In a single breath, he could pull out the Dwarven Longsword—the Black-Clad Bodyguard wouldn't even have time to react...

"B-bad news!" The steward stumbled onto the rooftop, his hair disheveled and face covered in soot, as if he'd come straight out of a fire. "The mistress... she's fainted... wait—?"

He stared in horror at his master, the Black-Clad Bodyguard, and "Lady Pearl," his voice trembling as he said: "How are there two mistresses?"

In the blink of an eye, the Black-Clad Bodyguard struck. A slender sword appeared in his hand, thrusting at Sylen like a viper's fang.

Sylen whipped the Dwarven Longsword out of the Divine Casket. The blades clashed in midair, metal ringing and sparks flying.

Fergus realized "Lady Pearl" was an impostor and made a desperate scramble for the rooftop entrance.

Sylen deflected the Black-Clad Bodyguard's sword and turned to chase after him. Suddenly, an immense force grabbed him from behind, yanking him backward!

He flipped through the air several times, then rolled across the ground after landing. Had he not plunged his sword into the ground in time, he would have flipped right off the rooftop.

"Sylen, it's the wind pressure!" Xiaoqi circled above his head, shouting.

Though he didn't fully understand how it worked, Sylen remembered Xiaoqi mentioning that wind pressure was strong enough to blow a person away.

In that split second, Fergus had already escaped. Sylen gritted his teeth, turning his burning glare upon the Black-Clad Bodyguard.

Take out this one first, then go after Fergus!

He leaped up and charged at the Black-Clad Bodyguard, only to be sent flying backward once more by the massive wind pressure.

The instant his body left the ground, a hooked claw attached to a chain whipped out from Sylen's sleeve, latching onto the Black-Clad Bodyguard.

It was a weapon he'd taken off the dead Slave Hunter.

The hook dug deep into the Black-Clad Bodyguard's calf. He cried out in surprise and dropped to one knee. Sylen pulled the chain taut, dragging him closer. Seeing that he could no longer use wind pressure to keep distance between them, the man in black twisted his wrist and sucked all the air away from Sylen.

Suddenly, Sylen couldn't breathe. His eyeballs felt like they'd burst from their sockets, and every vein in his body screamed with explosive pain. Meanwhile, his "Indestructible Body" kicked into overdrive, his flesh repairing itself at maximum capacity!

Every inch of flesh was being destroyed; every inch was being restored. Through the agonizing pain, Sylen charged forward, chain in hand, roaring as he swung his sword. The blade swept toward the Black-Clad Bodyguard like a cascade of silver water.

The Black-Clad Bodyguard was stunned. What was this impostor of Lady Pearl? Was he immortal?!

He gritted his teeth, tore the hook from his calf, and flexed his fingers, condensing the gale into wind blades to meet the reckless charge of the youth.

The two engaged in a bloody dance of gale and swordlight. No music—the crisp clash of metal served as accompaniment. No audience—the splattering blood bore witness.

Sylen didn't fear injury, but the Black-Clad Bodyguard's combat experience gave him the edge. He parried Sylen's longsword with one strike while manipulating the wind blades. The gale slashed toward the youth's neck—he twisted aside, but that was exactly what the Black-Clad Bodyguard had anticipated.

A flash of swordlight—the youth's sword-arm flew into the air.

Sylen screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees on the rooftop, clutching his bloody stump. He'd lost his weapon and his arm. Even if he could regenerate the wound, it would take time—and that was more than enough time for the Black-Clad Bodyguard to kill him ten times over!

The Black-Clad Bodyguard raised his slender sword, bringing it down toward Sylen's head.

The next moment, a searing pain exploded in his back, as if someone had driven a blade between his bones.

Sylen looked up, a victorious smile spreading across his blood-stained lips.

Embedded in the Black-Clad Bodyguard's back was a severed arm—and at the stump, metal glinted.

"That's impossible..." the Black-Clad Bodyguard whispered.

"Before today's operation, I cut off my own arm in advance, buried a blade inside it, and reattached it," Sylen said. "The arm you severed returns to me on its own. And you just happened to be standing between us..."

So the blade hidden in the severed arm struck the Black-Clad Bodyguard squarely in the back.

How could this youth conceive such a mad plan? In his eyes, was even his own body merely a tool for battle?

The Black-Clad Bodyguard collapsed to his knees, his slender sword clattering to the ground. Sylen circled behind him, pulled out the severed arm, bit down on the blade to extract it, then reattached the arm to his own body.

He picked up the Black-Clad Bodyguard's slender sword and thrust it at his opponent's neck. The Black-Clad Bodyguard, fighting like a cornered beast, tried to dodge—but Sylen grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground.

The youth raised the sword high, its edge reflecting the sparks of fire surrounding the villa.

"No!"

A shrill cry made Sylen freeze.

Lady Pearl—the real one—stumbled up to the rooftop. She still wore the old clothes Sylen had given her, her hair disheveled, her face smeared with soot.

"No, Sylen!" Lady Pearl cried again.

The Black-Clad Bodyguard's body jolted, staring in disbelief at the youth pinning him down.

Sylen frowned: "Even if you beg for mercy, I won't spare this lackey of Fergus!"

Lady Pearl burst into tears, leaving two pale streaks down her cheeks.

"She's Irina!" she sobbed. "She's your sister!"