Chapter 34: The Ashcroft Directive

While Rey was trapped in his harrowing death loop, elsewhere in the city, a chillingly quiet hospital room set the stage for another dark revelation.

Inside the pathology lab, the doctor in charge stood hunched over cold corpses—bodies of thugs and Jacob, the notorious Raven Blade. Under normal circumstances, this would have been routine work.

But today, it wasn’t.

Earlier, an old man clad in a sharp butler uniform had visited him. With a calm voice and cold eyes, he placed

five million Dracins

on the table—and a warning.

“If anything leaks, doctor... you won't live to see your next breath.”

Now, trembling under invisible pressure, the doctor resumed the autopsy.

The results were astonishing.

All 26 thugs

had been killed with ruthless precision. The wounds were clean, uniform, and expertly placed. This was the work of a

professional assassin

—not the chaos one expected from street brawls.

But Jacob… was different.

His wounds were messy, erratic—amateur slashes laced with

low-grade poison

. Yet his death blow told another story altogether. His skull had been shattered by a single, direct strike—likely a punch. His face had been flattened into the ground with such force that his spine had snapped at the neck.

It was the signature of someone at least

Peak Acolyte

, maybe even

Low Disciple rank

.

"Gruesome... whoever this ‘Raven Blade’ is, they're far from ordinary," the doctor murmured, typing the final notes into his report.

He exited the morgue, files in hand, and returned to his cabin—only to find

the butler already waiting

, sipping tea.

The man set down the porcelain cup. “Took you long enough.”

“My deepest apologies, sir. Here is the full report,” the doctor said, handing over the documents with a forced smile.

The butler,

Marcus

, adjusted his monocle and flipped through the pages. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“So... three distinct signatures. A professional killer, a dagger-wielding trainee, and a low-tier martial artist who crushed Jacob’s skull.”

“The plot thickens.”

“Yes, sir. Also—this was recovered near the rear fence, where there was a hole—likely their escape route,” the doctor added, retrieving a sealed bag from his drawer. Inside was a fragment of torn black cloth.

Marcus held it to the light.

“A cotton-metal weave. Lightweight, durable. From a coat. Possibly custom.”

The doctor blinked in astonishment. “You deduced all that from a scrap…? Sir, you're truly brilliant.”

Marcus’s smile vanished. “Flattery is filth. What is it you

actually

want?”

“I… the money, sir. As you promised.”

“Ah yes, your reward.”

He snapped his fingers.

A shadow moved behind the doctor. In the blink of an eye,

a gloved hand twisted the man’s head 180 degrees

. The corpse dropped, eyes wide in frozen shock.

“The Master was right,” Marcus muttered, dusting his sleeves. “Greed truly is humanity’s greatest weakness.”

He turned, exiting the room where

ten black-clad operatives

knelt in wait.

“Orders, Sir Marcus?” the one in front asked.

“Torch the floor. Make it look like an accident. As we’ve done before.”

He vanished.

Within fifteen minutes,

the entire wing was engulfed in flames

. By the time firefighters arrived, it was too late. The bodies, the doctor, and all evidence had been reduced to ash. The official report read:

“Electrical fire. All deceased. No survivors.”

Back at the Ashcroft estate…

A mansion adorned with gold-veined marble and priceless art stood like a fortress of prestige. Inside, Marcus knelt before an opulent chamber, panting heavily.

Age is catching up with me,

he thought bitterly,

My strength and stamina—both fading.

The double doors opened.

A room of aristocratic excess awaited—

Lavois furnishings

, silk drapes from the Eastern Isles, and a dozen servants attending to a single man at the center.

The man reclined in a rocking chair, cigar in hand.

The Patriarch of the Ashcroft Family.

Second Duke of the Neptarion Empire.

A man known only as

Lord Ashcroft

.

Marcus dropped to one knee. “My Lord, I’ve returned. The report is complete.”

Lord Ashcroft lazily set down his cigar and glanced over the papers. He read silently, then tossed them onto a table without a word.

“Any leads on this ‘Raven Blade’?”

“No, sir. But I believe this was orchestrated by a rival house. Only someone of noble standing could field martial artists of this caliber.”

Ashcroft’s brow twitched. “And the boy’s family?”

Marcus hesitated.

“We’ve been monitoring the DragonStorm family closely, but… the boy,

Rey

, has been behaving strangely. He disappeared from all known surveillance. Then he reappeared—but his

facial structure, physique, and aura were entirely different.

We scanned his movements—no record of a switch. It's as if he changed entirely.”

Ashcroft’s smile dropped.

He raised a single hand—and Marcus began to

levitate, body twisting in agony

under immense invisible pressure.

“You

dare

delay such vital intelligence?” Ashcroft growled. “Do you have any idea what would happen if this spirals out of control?”

“I-I swear, my lord… I will correct this!” Marcus gasped, bones creaking under the crushing force. Blood trickled from his nose.

The room fell silent. The servants quaked but stood still. Running would mean instant death.

Then the grip released.

WHUMP.

Marcus crashed to the floor, coughing violently.

This... this is the power of a Peak Disciple,

Marcus thought, pressing his head to the ground.

Even I, a Peak Martial Artist, am nothing before the patriarch of the Ashcrofts… under the Vladius Family’s banner.

Ashcroft stood and turned his back.

“Double the surveillance. Eliminate all previous agents.”

Marcus rose, bowed again, and snapped his fingers.

Instantly, four elite enforcers materialized from the shadows.

“Begin immediate lockdown on the DragonStorms. No slip-ups this time.”

The operatives nodded—and vanished.

And behind them…

the bodies of the previous agents fell to the floor

, their throats slit before they even realized they'd failed.

Back at his home

, Rey lay unaware of the storm closing in around him.

A power far greater than he had ever imagined was beginning to take interest.

The mystery of Rey…

Would not remain hidden much longer.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note:

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