Chapter 601: The Confrontation
The little girl walked toward Ethan just as he set the empty bowl back on the table.
"Haha..."
Her smile twisted into something cruel, her eyes narrowing like a cornered wildcat’s.
BANG!
Before she could finish her laugh—or even say a word—Ethan’s fist smashed into her face. The blow landed with a thunderous crash, half of her features collapsing inward as her small body was hurled across the room. She slammed into the half-wall of the semi-open kitchen, the tiles shattering into shards that rained down around her.
"Ah..."
The three customers who had just stepped inside froze in shock. They had been about to take seats, but now stood rooted to the spot, staring at the sight of Ethan striking a little girl. They were regulars here, familiar with the shop, and instinct urged them to intervene. But the sheer force of that punch made them hesitate, a chill climbing up their spines.
Ethan brushed the dust from his hands and stood, letting out a satisfied belch. "That was disgusting," he muttered, eyeing the girl sprawled on the floor. "And you made such a massive portion of it too."
"You... you weren’t poisoned?"
Before the horrified eyes of the three bystanders, the little girl’s mangled face rippled and restored itself. Her sunken features re-formed, her body pushing upright as if nothing had happened.
The burly man behind the counter suddenly vaulted over the half-wall, a ladle clutched in his hand. Hot oil sloshed from it as he flung it straight at Ethan.
"Get back!" Ethan barked. He stepped aside and drove his shoulder into the three customers, shoving them through the doorway and out of danger. With a flick of his arms, a burst of force rippled outward, knocking the oil and even the heavy iron pot away before they could touch him.
The bearded cook seized the girl and dragged her toward the kitchen’s back door.
"Panther Form... Wild Charge."
Whoosh.
Ethan’s body blurred, shooting forward like a bullet. In the blink of an eye, he was blocking their escape.
"Bear Form... Strike."
SMACK!
His palm came down on the bearded man’s shoulder.
CRACK!
Bone shattered. The man collapsed instantly, his shoulder twisted grotesquely, his body driven to his knees with such force that cracks spiderwebbed across the concrete floor. The sound alone made it clear his kneecaps were finished.
Holding the man down, Ethan’s gaze flicked to the corner of the kitchen—and his heart clenched.
There, lying lifeless, was another man who looked exactly like the cook pinned beneath him. Beside him lay a young girl, her face slack in death. The true owners of the noodle shop.
The ones Ethan had struck down were impostors, their appearances shaped by some trick of disguise. But why here? Why go after him? And why try to poison him the instant he walked through the door?
From the moment he stepped inside, Ethan had suspected something was wrong. Every move he made afterward had been deliberate. When that revolting plate of fried noodles was set down, Yaya’s quiet warning confirmed his suspicion: the food was laced with poison.
But Yaya had also reminded him that the Tree of Life within his body rendered him immune. So Ethan had eaten every bite, not because he trusted them, but because hunger had gnawed at him too long to resist.
Even the soup laced with toxins couldn’t slip past his Soul Sense.
"Who are you really?" Ethan asked coldly, staring down at the impostors writhing on the floor.
"Hehe..." The little girl’s eerie laugh returned, her jaw tensing. At the same time, the bearded man clenched his own teeth.
"Still trying that trick?" Ethan growled.
He seized both their faces, fingers clamping hard around their jaws.
CRACK. CRACK.
Their joints snapped. Their mouths fell open, tongues lolling grotesquely as they could no longer close them.
"Good thing I moved fast," Ethan muttered, his voice low. "Or you would’ve killed yourselves again."
Ethan let out a quiet breath. That had been too close. If not for his encounter on that remote island, he might not have recognized the suicide method when they clenched their jaws.
These two were without a doubt connected to the Serpent Islanders. Their rigid rule of dying rather than being captured showed just how ruthless they were, not only toward others but even toward themselves.
Now, with their attempt thwarted, the pair who had looked so composed only moments ago suddenly appeared shaken. Death, it seemed, didn’t frighten them. What truly terrified them was the thought of being taken alive.
Ethan studied them, considering. His first instinct was to use Soul Reading—but that meant driving a finger into someone’s brain. He grimaced. Disgusting. There had to be a better way.
He pulled out his phone, freshly charged, and hesitated for a moment before dialing a number.
"Hello..." A woman’s voice, tired and low, answered.
"It’s me," Ethan said carefully.
"I know." The voice on the other end belonged to Amber.
"I’m at the noodle shop," Ethan explained. "There’s been an incident. People are dead, and I’ve got two Serpent Islander ability-users restrained. Send a team to handle them. They’re connected to the group that was meeting with Kiara. Make sure to interrogate them—but don’t let them swallow anything. They’ve got poison hidden in their teeth. And whatever you find out, I want to know."
As he spoke, the wail of police sirens grew louder, drawing closer to the shop.
"Okay," Amber replied lightly, almost playfully.
Beep, beep, beep.
She had hung up.
Ethan frowned at the phone. ’That woman... I beat her half to death before, and she’s not even angry? I thought she’d be itching to fight me again.’
Shaking his head, he slipped the phone away and pulled a small notebook from his jacket. His lips curved faintly as his eyes fell on the text stamped on the cover. Ah... old times.
He held the notebook up in his palm for the approaching responders to see.
"Ninth Division, M Special Operations Unit," he announced. "Special case in progress. Keep order here. There are two targets inside under control. Someone will be here shortly to take custody."
The disturbance had drawn a full special forces response. The team’s captain glanced at the badge in Ethan’s notebook and immediately stiffened. He gave a sharp wave, and all his men lowered their weapons.
"Excuse me, sir—who should we expect?" the captain asked as he returned the notebook.
Ethan hesitated. "You’ve heard of the Noble Eight Lineages, right?"
"Yes," the man said. "I’m from the House of Zane."
"Oh, that makes it easier. Amber Zane will send someone."
Ethan raised his eyebrows, taking a closer look at the captain.
"Oh, that tomboy," the man muttered under his breath, before saying more formally, "If you have other matters, you may leave. We’ll take over from here."
Ethan didn’t argue. The captain was sharp enough to see he had no intention of staying.
"Be careful, though," Ethan added as he turned away. "Those two inside aren’t weak."
Outside, people had gathered, whispering and pointing as he passed. He ignored them, cutting down a side street and slipping into a narrow alley. A moment later, the single-soldier combat mech unfolded around him, plates locking into place, and his figure shimmered out of sight.
He rose steadily, vanishing into the sky until he entered the invisible Shatterstar mech waiting above the city.
Inside, Ethan pulled a hard drive from his jacket, its metal casing cold against his fingers. He had grabbed it during the fight in the noodle shop.
"Shatterstar," he said. "Analyze this drive. See if you can recover anything from it."
He released his grip, and the hard drive drifted upward, caught in the mech’s systems.