Chapter 125: Is this where my son was buried?

When Ethan left his luxurious mansion, a determined look hardened his face.

He passed by the maids on his way out. Five in total, each one handpicked by Elena herself from the most beautiful young women in Goldenveil.

They received a salary of ten gold coins a year, enough to place them among the city’s highest-paid citizens.

For some reason, the former empress had even verified they were still pure before hiring them, something that filled the young women with anxiety.

Beautiful as they were, none came close to women like Evelyn, Alice, or Elena. But the fact that Elena had specifically checked their purity gave them a sliver of hope.

Their talent wasn’t bad either. All five possessed Rank C talents, which meant they were guaranteed to reach the second stage, with a slim chance of reaching the third.

The five had been chatting idly by the fountain when they noticed Ethan approaching. In unison, they bowed respectfully, cheeks flushing a soft pink.

Their black maid dresses with white skirts were cut deep, and as they leaned forward, the necklines gaped wide, exposing generous expanses of pale, soft cleavage.

The full weight of their breasts shifted with gravity, round and heavy, pressing together into deep valleys of succulent flesh.

The supple mounds bulged against the straining fabric, threatening to spill free from the tight confines of their uniforms.

"My lord, do you desire anything?" The most mature among them, a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, asked expectantly.

Ethan gave them a faint smile and nodded. "Go inside and stay with my wives. They’re in the arena. I’ll be back soon."

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded letting his gaze linger a moment longer on those plump, barely contained necklines.

But right now, he was anxious.

A second powerful pulse of aura coursed through his body, and he quickened his pace.

Whoever owned this aura wasn’t trying to hide, and they weren’t merely probing. This was a deliberate, open display of power.

The maids exchanged puzzled glances as they watched their lord’s back recede into the distance.

After a moment, they just shrugged and turned to leave.

After passing through the mansion’s gate, Ethan stopped and got his bearings.

For some strange reason, his eyes instinctively locked onto the Goldenveil cemetery, and he made his way toward it.

Doran had sensed the disturbance as well, and seeing Ethan head toward the cemetery, the guard captain rushed to meet him with ten guards at his back.

"My lord, what should we do? Should we prepare to fight?" Doran’s voice was tight.

Ethan didn’t answer.

He stopped in front of a grave. One of the newest, only a few months old.

"Is this where my son was buried?"

A chill shot down Ethan’s spine like ice water.

He spun around just in time to see one of his guards, face white with terror, lash out with his sword toward the hooded figure standing right beside them.

A slight flick of two fingers, and a sharp metallic snap cut through the air. The steel blade cracked and shattered in the figure’s grip.

Fragments of broken steel tumbled to the ground with sharp, ringing clinks, and the guard stumbled back, his arm still vibrating from the impact.

Every other guard, including Doran, raised their swords in the same breath, blades pointing at the newcomer’s neck.

They had just watched this man snap a sword in two with a single flick of his fingers!

How on earth was that possible?

"Enough! Lower your swords!" Ethan roared.

It took a full second for the guards to process the order. How could they drop their guard in front of such a terrifying enemy?

"Doran, take the guards and withdraw. Leave me alone with our esteemed guest."

Doran didn’t hesitate. He could see the tension carved into Ethan’s face, and he could feel the newcomer’s aura.

This man was almost at the fourth stage. Just one step away.

When the guards withdrew, the figure reached up and pulled back his hood.

Beneath it was the face of a middle-aged man with firm, noble features. Short-cropped black hair framed a pair of blue eyes.

"I’m sorry to visit you like this, Lord Ethan Goldenveil. I hope you’ll forgive me." To Ethan’s surprise, the powerful specialist spoke cordially and bowed with humility. "I wanted to do things properly, but I was in a hurry."

"I am Theron, captain of the guard of the City of the Howling Fire." He rose from his bow and looked toward the grave. "The young man buried here is my son, isn’t he?"

"Yes." Ethan nodded, steadying his rapidly beating heart. "The beast that killed him was slain a few months ago, in case you’re interested in revenge."

"I seek nothing as petty as revenge against a beast."

Theron shook his head and knelt before his son’s grave.

He closed his eyes, pressing his palm flat against the earth, reaching down with his senses to feel the corpse’s aura.

It was, indeed, his son’s. And beside the body lay the sword he had once given him.

Theron closed his eyes in silent prayer.

Ethan said nothing. He simply stood beside the man in silence.

After a few moments, Theron finally rose, brushing the dirt from his knees.

"Thank you for giving my son a proper burial, Lord Ethan. And I’m sorry for interrupting your morning like this. I was just scanning the area."

"Not at all, Captain Theron. It’s a pleasure to have you here." Ethan offered a gentle smile, his posture already relaxed. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No..." Theron shook his head slowly. "I’ll be on my way. I just came to visit my son’s grave."

His blue eyes scanned Goldenveil with idle curiosity for a moment longer before he let out a quiet sigh.

What a curious little place...

He had many questions, but noticing the lingering tension on Ethan’s face, he kept them to himself.

"Would you like me to handle the small army outside your walls?" Theron asked casually.