Chapter 912: Husband Returns
The instant Sir Gideon’s eyes flickered, Ethan felt the shift.
It was subtle, a tightening at the corners, a flash of calculation where hesitation had been. Ethan opened his mouth to warn Markham, but the old man’s expression had already hardened into something cold and resolute.
"Zenith Palm!"
The roar split the air before Ethan could react.
Sir Gideon’s arm rose sharply and then came crashing down. A deafening boom followed, the sky above them twisting as if an invisible giant had reached down to knead the clouds. From that distortion, a massive phantom hand emerged, descending with terrifying inevitability.
Inside every mech, alarms shrieked at once.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
Markham had stepped out of his armor, with fury still blazing across his face. "You old, despicable..."
He did not finish.
The descending hand radiated overwhelming pressure, far beyond anything the hilltop rabble had displayed earlier. The golden dragon soul behind Markham flickered violently as the force bore down on him. Without his mech’s protection, his body buckled. One knee slammed into the ground. The dragon phantom trembled, its outline destabilizing.
Blood burst from Markham’s mouth.
The phantom hand continued its relentless descent, carrying a suffocating weight that pressed on every chest present. Even the air felt heavy, as if breathing required permission.
Everyone felt the crushing dread, everyone except Blackie.
The black qilin stood still, unmoved, his energy utterly calm. He did not even lift his head, and made no effort to resist. It was as if the immense pressure simply did not exist for him.
Sir Gideon noticed.
His eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening into something more focused. He channeled additional power into the strike, subtly adjusting its trajectory so that the brunt of the force aimed directly at Blackie.
The phantom hand plummeted. Seconds remained before it would crush them all into the mountain.
Right then, a quiet voice cut through the suffocating tension.
"Sigh. I just arrived and I’m already cleaning up a mess. I hope she won’t be angry."
Metal shifted with a soft series of clicks and hisses as Ethan stepped forward. His armor dissolved back into liquid form, retracting from his body.
Sir Gideon’s eyes widened.
Ethan bent his knees and then exploded upward, launching himself like a missile. He met the descending phantom hand head on.
He threw a single punch.
There was no earth-shaking explosion or blinding flash, just a soft pop. Like a bubble bursting between two fingers.
The enormous hand shattered instantly. The once fearsome Zenith Palm disintegrated into wisps of dissipating energy, scattering into the wind as if it had never existed.
Sir Gideon staggered backward, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"You..."
The word died on his tongue.
"Master, we need to run!" a frantic voice whispered urgently beside him. "I recognize him. That’s Ethan."
"Ethan?" Sir Gideon frowned, the name tugging at a memory.
"The one who reformed the Ninth Division," His junior brother added quickly.
Sir Gideon’s face drained of color. "That monster? Isn’t he tied to that Silverwood girl? Then we..."
He did not finish.
That Zenith Palm had been his strongest technique. He had poured his full strength into it. Yet this young man had shattered it with a casual punch, as if swatting aside dust.
Silencing him now was impossible. Retreating back into the Silverwood territory was equally impossible. His Zenith Cult had barely a hundred disciples remaining. Even if they attacked together, it would be suicide. There was only one option.
Run.
After running, two paths remained. They could hide in obscurity, burying the remnants of Zenith Cult in some forgotten corner of the world. Or they could join the Divine Sea Temple and survive by bowing their heads.
Sir Gideon wanted neither.
To live nameless and small offended his pride. To kneel to the Temple felt like spiritual death.
"Master, if we don’t move now, Zenith Cult’s last embers will be extinguished here!" his junior urged, grabbing his sleeve.
Sir Gideon’s gaze slowly steadied. The panic ebbed, replaced by a weary clarity.
"This is my fault," he said hoarsely. "Greed clouded my judgment. But becoming the Temple’s dog? Never. I will go to Lady Silverwood and beg for..."
He did not finish as a blur streaked past him.
For a heartbeat, his blood ran cold. Had Ethan decided to slaughter them all after all? He had spoken earlier about cleaning house.
But the blur did not strike the gathered disciples.
Instead, a scream tore through the air.
"AAAH!"
Ethan stopped beside Sir Gideon, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as if they were comrades. In his hand, however, he held Sir Gideon’s junior brother aloft by the throat.
"Don’t..." Sir Gideon spun around, as his eyes widened.
"Don’t?" Ethan turned slightly, a grin spreading across his face. "You want me to let him finish what he started with this?"
He tilted the captured man just enough for Sir Gideon to see the dagger clenched in his junior brother’s hand.
The smile on Ethan’s face was mocking, almost playful, yet something colder lurked beneath it, a glint that made even seasoned powerhouses uneasy.
"Master, he was about to stab you from behind!" several disciples shouted from the rear, their voices overlapping.
Sir Gideon stared at the purple-faced man dangling in Ethan’s grip. He pried the dagger free and his eyes widened.
"Severance Blade? How do you have this? The Temple confiscated it!"
Realization struck like lightning.
Sir Gideon ripped open his junior brother’s spatial pouch and dumped its contents onto the ground. Among the scattered items lay a familiar token.
The Zenith Cult Master’s Token.
"You..." Sir Gideon’s hands trembled. "You colluded with the Temple. You triggered our protective formation from within. That’s why none of us could retreat!"
His face flushed a violent red as fury and betrayal twisted his features. He shook so violently that blood surged up his throat and sprayed from his mouth.
Ethan stepped aside neatly.
"Careful, old man," he said with a grimace. "Spitting blood everywhere is revolting."
Sir Gideon sagged, supported by his stunned disciples. The weight of the truth seemed to crush him far more effectively than Ethan ever could.
Ethan glanced at him briefly, then lost interest.
"Let’s go," he said.
Still holding the traitor by the throat, he strode toward the iron chains marking the territory entrance. The Zenith Cult disciples instinctively parted to create a path.
Sir Gideon made no move to stop him.
In the end, the old man had chosen not to bow to the Temple. That was enough for Ethan. Had he decided otherwise, Ethan would have crushed him without hesitation. But the man’s weakness lay in his ears, he was too easily swayed by whispers. Such a person would never stand at the peak.
Whether Zenith Cult stayed or left was no longer Ethan’s concern.
Evelyn and Maria helped Markham to his feet, steadying him as he wiped the blood from his mouth. Together, they followed Ethan into the Silverwood territory.
---
Within the hidden territory, at the heart of the Silverwood estate, unease hung thick in the air.
"Lyla, I’ve had a bad feeling for days," Amber said quietly. "Like something is about to happen."
"You too?" Lyla exhaled slowly. "So have I."
Before they could say more, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
"Bad news, Matriarch, bad news!"
Lyla yanked the door open. "The Divine Sea Temple?" she demanded, gripping the teenage girl outside by the shoulders.
"N-No. I just brought food to the forbidden ground for Rainie and she..."
Lyla was already gone before the girl finished.
Amber followed without hesitation as they raced toward the back mountain, where the forbidden ground lay hidden.
Ever since Lyla and Rainie had returned, they had taken over that frozen cave, once a place of punishment where Lyla herself had been imprisoned. Somehow, the frigid environment amplified Rainie’s growth speed to an astonishing degree. The weakest among the three had begun pulling ahead at an alarming pace.
Lyla and Amber had trained since childhood.
Rainie had only begun Energy practice a little over a year ago, after their time beneath the sea. And yet she was catching up.
They burst into the frozen cave.
Rainie lay sprawled across the ice. A dark pool of blood had frozen solid beside her.
They rushed to her side and carried her out immediately. Even they could not endure that cold for long.
Outside, Rainie’s eyelids fluttered open, her lips pale and tinged blue.
"Rainie, what happened?" Lyla’s voice shook.
"I’m fine," Rainie murmured weakly, forcing a smile. "Just a minor energy deviation. If you hadn’t come, I might’ve turned into a popsicle."
Amber and Lyla both exhaled in relief.
"But how?" Lyla asked, rubbing warmth back into Rainie’s hands. "That cave suppresses energy deviation. You should have been safe."
"I don’t know. I suddenly felt... uneasy. And I was at a critical point. I couldn’t stop."
"Uneasy?" Amber’s eyes widened.
"You too?" Rainie looked at her sharply.
"Not just me," Amber said, glancing at Lyla. "Both of us."
The three women exchanged looks, dread pooling in their chests.
"Bad men are hard to kill," Amber said lightly, though her eyes betrayed the worry she tried to conceal. "Stop overthinking."
Rainie started to speak again, but her words were drowned out.
A voice thundered across the entire Silverwood territory.
"Lyla. Amber. Rainie. I’m back! Come greet your husband!"
The tone was brash, irreverent and brimming with excitement, causing the bustling training grounds to fall silent in an instant.
Every Energy user froze.
Those three names were not ordinary. Eight months ago, when the Divine Sea Temple had attempted to crush the US supernatural world, it had been Lyla, Amber, and Rainie who stood at the forefront. Their combined technique, three becoming one, had unleashed a strike so powerful it severely wounded a high-ranking Temple expert.
Without them, the US would have fallen.
And now some man had shouted their names with shameless familiarity, demanding that they greet their husband.
Young Energy users bristled with outrage, fists clenching as they turned toward the entrance, eager to see who dared such insolence.
Three streaks of light shot into the sky and halted midair.
"The Matriarch!"
"This will be good. That man is dead."
"How dare he insult my goddess..."
"Your goddess?"
"Our goddess," the young man corrected hurriedly.
Then someone pointed. Gasps rippled through the crowd, and hearts cracked in unison.
---
The moment the voice reached them, Lyla, Amber, and Rainie froze. One heartbeat of stunned silence followed , then tears filled their eyes.
They would recognize that voice anywhere.
Ethan.
After a year and a half, he had finally returned.
Rainie, weak only moments before, found strength from somewhere deep within. She stood, supported by Lyla and Amber, and the three of them launched into the sky, racing down the mountain with tears streaming freely.
In the distance, a figure stood atop a black qilin, holding someone by the throat like a captured chicken.
The qilin was midnight black, striding through the air step by deliberate step, radiating arrogant grandeur.
Rainie saw him clearly and faltered midair, her energy stuttering.
Lyla and Amber caught her, steadying her as they hovered at the edge of the combat arena.
Ethan’s playful grin froze when he saw Rainie’s pallor.
"Blackie, faster."
Blackie, however, was too busy admiring the stunned expressions below. He snorted, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. "Our entrance is perfect. Look at those fools staring."
Ethan’s face darkened.
He stomped sharply. The impact sent Blackie lurching forward with a startled grunt, nearly pitching him headfirst.
A crack split the air as Ethan vanished from the qilin’s back and reappeared before the three women. Without even glancing down, he released the traitor, letting him plummet from hundreds of meters above.
"Rainie, you..."
Worry replaced the bravado in his eyes.
Amber folded her arms. "Maybe you should have practiced controlling energy deviation too," she said lightly.
Rainie blushed. "I’m really fine."
Ethan heard the pointed undertone and understood immediately. He had caused them to worry.
Slowly, he turned to Lyla.
She stared back at him, biting her lip, tears trembling but stubbornly held in place.