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Chapter_297
Felicity’s sharp eyes betrayed her training. As a graduate of the police academy, she could read people like an open book, and right now, her instincts were screaming that something wasn’t right. She studied Mr. Snyder Sr., whose silence spoke volumes.
A silent battle waged within him. Should he reveal the truth? Could he trust her with the knowledge?
In the end, he chose to keep his secrets tightly locked away. Felicity might hold a powerful position, but her immaturity—both in her character and judgment—meant she wasn’t ready for the truth. The Green Bamboo Association had always been a facade, a cover for something much darker. If the secret of their true power and history came to light, it would destroy everything.
Kingsley Apothecary stood before them, its doors bolted shut, a thick layer of cobwebs decorating the sign like a forgotten relic of the past. Finn scowled. “Was that old man fooling us?”
Nash shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” The old man’s words had seemed sincere. This place had to hold some significance.
Suddenly, the low purr of a car engine broke the silence. A white Maserati pulled up beside them, its sleek frame gleaming under the streetlights. The driver, a woman in her late twenties, emerged from the car. Her beauty was undeniable—curvaceous and alluring, the kind of woman whose presence commanded attention.
Finn lowered his sunglasses, and a grin spread across his face. He felt his nostrils flare with sudden warmth, blood rushing to his face. “Were you two at the Young Gardens just now?” the woman asked, her voice calm, almost too calm.
With a smile that he hoped was charming, Finn nodded. “That’s right. The guard told us to come here!”
“Get in.” The woman’s command was simple and direct.
Without missing a beat, Finn opened the door for Nash, and both men slid into the car. However, the woman’s next words froze him in place. “Get your ss into the backseat.”
Stunned, Finn blinked, then tried to regain his composure. “Woman… you do not want to challenge a stage six great-grandmaster!”
He slid into the front passenger seat despite her demand.
Nash raised an eyebrow at Finn, who had no shame. It was a wonder he ever got anything done with his arrogance. But then, Nash turned his attention back to the woman. There was something about her, something dangerous that made him uneasy.
The woman’s cold gaze met his briefly. Without a word, she drove, her focus unwavering on the road ahead.
And then, with a sudden, swift motion—Finn was kicked out of the car. He landed with a grunt on the ground, his pride shattered, before he scrambled back into the backseat, sulking.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at a grand mansion, its sheer opulence striking against the night sky. Inside, the woman grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and tossed them to the duo, her movements practiced and swift.
Without saying a word, she ascended the stairs and entered a bedroom on the second floor.
Finn, still nursing his bruised ego, let out a frustrated sigh. “Nash… don’t you think she’s ridiculously skilled?”
Nash nodded thoughtfully. “She seems to only be in her late twenties, but she’s already achieved the Profound Reality Realm.”
Finn, clearly impressed despite himself, grumbled. “I’ve trained since I was sixteen, became a stage-five great-grandmaster in twelve years, and stage-six in another four. But she… she’s in her late twenties and already at her peak. It doesn’t make sense.”
Nash’s mind raced, analyzing the situation. “There’s something wrong with her elixir-of-life field. She either damaged it through dark practices or consumed so much elixir medication that it poisoned her life force.”
Finn perked up, finally feeling some sense of reassurance. “That’s reassuring to hear.” He tried to mask his lingering doubt with confidence. “I knew it. There’s no way a once-in-a-century prodigy like me would lose to a woman.”
Nash turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. “You don’t stand a chance against her.”
Before Finn could respond, the woman descended the stairs, helping an elderly woman down with a gentle, yet firm hand. The elderly woman was frail, her face a map of age, her eyes cloudy with time.
The woman settled the old woman onto the couch before turning her attention to Nash.
The elderly woman squinted at him, her voice raspy and slow, but deliberate. “Are you Wolfgang Young’s descendant?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of history. Nash felt his pulse quicken. This was no coincidence. Everything had led to this moment, and now, the truth was about to unfold.