One moment he stood thirty paces away; the next he materialized directly in front of their table, scattering the teacups on the table.

Both men recoiled, their eyes widening in terror at his sudden appearance.

“Hi, gentlemen,” Ethan said pleasantly, as if they were old friends meeting for tea. “It seems like you share a common ancestor with… rats? Because you have a few matching habits.”

“I-I…” the one with the crystal stammered, his eyes showing fear.

“I, you, him,” Ethan interrupted, waving dismissively. “Irrelevant. Now. Give me the crystal.”

The men exchanged frightened glances before the holder extended his trembling hand, offering the crystal.

Ethan’s status vision identified them as mere Mid-Iron rank—hardly worth the effort of killing. With casual disdain, he took the crystal and crushed it between his fingers, turning it into powder.

Before either man could speak, Ethan’s hands moved with blinding speed. Twin slaps connected with their faces, the sound like thunderclaps in the quiet street.

Both men crashed to the ground, blood and teeth spraying from their mouths. Ethan held back on those slaps. Just strong enough to shatter half their teeth but not enough to kill.

“I advise you,” Ethan said calmly, brushing crystal dust from his hands, “don’t do this again. This was only a small punishment. I’m feeling quite generous, considering you’re neighbors with someone I’m close to.” He crouched down to their level, voice lowering. “Quit these kinds of jobs and focus on your own lives.”

One man spat blood, already swelling face contorted with fear. “W-We were forced. I’m sorry!”

Ethan’s expression hardened. “You were not forced to do anything. You could have simply acted like you didn’t see anything, but no.” He stood, towering over their huddled forms. “You’re greedy, for whatever reward Han Wei promised.”

The men cowered, expecting further violence.

Instead, Ethan’s voice softened to something almost sympathetic. “Look at you. Mid-Iron rank in your—what, thirties?” He assessed them clinically. “Working as informants for bronze-ranks because you couldn’t make it on your own. Telling yourselves you have no choice when really, you just lack courage.”

He glanced around the street, where passersby walked past, pretending not to notice the confrontation.

“Everyone here has choices. Every day. That woman there—” he nodded toward an elderly woman hurrying past with a basket, “—chooses to work instead of begging, despite her age. That child—” a young boy sweeping a shopfront, “—chooses to help his family instead of stealing.”

Ethan’s eyes returned to the bloodied men. “You chose the easy path. Selling information. Betraying neighbors. Serving those who would never see you as equals.”

He reached into his pouch, extracting two peak Iron-rank cores. With disregard, he tossed one to each man.

“Here’s your last chance. These will boost your cultivation if you use them right. Become strong enough not to need masters, or remain weak enough to deserve them. Your choice.”

The men stared at the cores in disbelief, then back at Ethan.

“Why?” one managed through broken teeth.

“Because I’m feeling generous, even to rats,” He smiled

He turned without waiting for a response, continuing toward Tiana’s building. Behind him, the men exchanged glances before examining the cores in their bloodied palms.

“He’s right… you know,” the first said, running his tongue over the gaps where teeth had been moments before.

The other nodded, wincing as his swollen cheek throbbed. “I know. Funny how someone half our age taught us something so basic.” He chuckled, blood still leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Only took us a few missing teeth and swollen faces to realize it.”

“Haha!”

They laughed together, the sound equal parts pain and genuine mirth—two men suddenly seeing the absurdity of their lives through the clarity that only comes from having your face rearranged.

Ahead, Ethan approached Tiana’s building. Rather than bothering with the front entrance and inevitable questions, he glanced up at the window he knew belonged to her apartment.

He crouched slightly, then launched himself upward. His jump carried him three stories high, his fingers catching the edge of a third-floor balcony.

Without pausing, he used the momentum to pull himself up and leap again, landing silently on the narrow ledge outside Tiana’s window.

Inside the apartment, Tiana lay sprawled across her unmade bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The normally meticulous researcher hadn’t bothered to leave that bed for the past two days except for some necessities.

Why bother? What was the point?

News of the orphanage fire had shattered something inside her. Not just the tragedy itself, but the horrible suspicion that it wasn’t random. That Ethan might have been hiding there. That he might have died in those flames, along with all those innocent children.

She’d tried to reach District Three, desperate to confirm her fears, but the guards had blocked her at every turn. “Too dangerous with the monster attacks,” they’d said, unmoved by her pleas.

So she’d retreated to her apartment, her brilliant mind cycling through grief and guilt and rage until exhaustion claimed her, only to begin again when she woke.

Knock.

The sound barely registered through her fog of despair.

Knock-knock.

Still she didn’t move, assuming it was her imagination or perhaps her neighbour’s cat scratching at the walls again.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

This time the sound was unmistakable—and coming from the window, not the door.

Tiana frowned, pushing herself up from the bed. “A bird on my window? At this height?”

She padded across the room in wrinkled clothes, hair sticking out at odd angles from two days without brushing.

Reaching the window, she squinted through the glass, seeing nothing but the empty evening sky.

“Strange, I could have sworn—”

Suddenly a face popped up from below the windowsill, pressed against the glass with wide, manic eyes.

“BAH!” Ethan shouted, his voice muffled through the pane.

“ARRRGH!” Tiana shrieked, stumbling backward so violently she tripped over a stack of research books and went sprawling across the floor.

Her flailing arm caught a precarious tower of scrolls, sending them cascading across the room like dominoes. One knocked over an ink pot, which splashed across her desk before dripping steadily onto the carpet.

From outside, Ethan’s face transformed from mischievous grin to horrified concern as he watched the chain reaction of disaster unfold through the window.

Tiana scrambled to her feet, heart pounding as she recognized the face at her window.

“ETHAN?!” she shouted, rushing back to unlatch the window with trembling hands. “You’re ALIVE?!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep