Legend of Dragon Son-in-law

Chapter 340: Dark Arrow Wounds People_1

“How is that possible?” Hearing the news, the Saint Heir suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He turned around and grabbed the man in the vest by the collar, “Didn’t we just send our people out?”

At the banquet, the Saint Heir had announced in front of everyone his intentions to rescue Sheridan Isolde.

And it had been only a matter of minutes since his staff had gone to follow through with this task.

Even accounting for personnel movements and travel preparations, his people could have at most just stepped out of this villa.

“Yes… Our people had just gone out and were ambushed right at the villa’s entrance, their bodies not even a hundred meters from the gate…” The man in the vest turned pale, his words faltering and the muscles at the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

He had followed Skyfire for many years, completing countless missions, but none had ever been as shocking as today.

Deaths were common, how could a combat unit not suffer casualties?

But the loss of a dozen skilled hands today—each of these men was a battle-hardened warrior of Skyfire and a devout follower of the Sect—was unprecedented.

So far, they still had no idea who the mastermind behind the scenes was.

The staff died inexplicably, and there wasn’t even anyone to target for vengeance!

“Tell me again!” The Saint Heir stared intensely into the vest-wearing man’s eyes, his face twitching uncontrollably.

No sooner had he received the call from the woman than his people were completely wiped out; such a threat, such humiliation, was too much for the Saint Heir, who always saw himself as noble, to bear.

“Our people, they’re all gone…” The man in the vest took a deep breath, answering with his head lowered.

His voice carried a tone of dejection and helplessness, sprinkled with a hint of sorrow.

In the past decade, Skyfire had never faced such humiliation.

“Take me to see,” the Saint Heir said, calming down from his anger, his grip on the man’s vest collar gradually loosening.

By now, getting angry would not solve anything.

Even if he killed the man in the vest right in front of him, it wouldn’t help the greater situation.

The most important thing now was to find out who the culprit behind the scenes was, and see who was stirring up trouble.

The moment he thought this, the voice of that woman echoed in the Saint Heir’s mind.

“If it really was you, I will tear you to pieces!” he roared, flames suddenly erupting from his hand.

The man in the vest didn’t dare make a sound, promptly turned around, and, together with a few staff members, hurried to the scene of the incident with the Saint Heir.

“Gentlemen, please continue drinking, I’ve got something to take care of and will join you for a toast later.”

As they passed the dining area, the Saint Heir gave the merchants of Five-river Province a faint smile and strode out of the villa complex.

“Safe travels, Saint Heir, we can hardly wait!”

“We will wait here for the return of the Saint Heir!”

Everyone spoke one after another, smiles on their faces, their hearts filled with utmost joy.

Such an outsider, who had no conflicts of interest with them, and a figure like the Saint Heir, would unlikely remain in the inland for long.

By leveraging the Saint Heir’s power to eliminate Julius Reed and other threats, the merchants could effortlessly reap the benefits and share the remnants of Octavius’ and Stanislaus Potter’s assets.

Moreover, the conflict between Truman Ridge and the Saint Heir today led several of them to boldly imagine what the outcome would be if two tigers cannot share one mountain.

Would the Saint Heir return home in a pitiful state, or would Truman Ridge end up shattered and scattered?

Or perhaps, both would suffer losses?

Regardless of the outcome, it would be all to the advantage of those present without any harm done.

“Saint Heir, please be prepared for what you are about to see,” the vest-wearing man halted his steps at the villa gate, turning to look at the Saint Heir with a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Throughout my life, I’ve seen all the ups and downs one can see, what’s there to be afraid of? Go on, Hamza, how come after coming to the East, you’ve become so timid? In the West, you were a warrior who struck fear into the hearts of many, with the courage of a thousand men!” The Saint Heir said with scorn in his eyes, his tone dripping with condescension.

Within Skyfire, the Saint Heir was the designated successor to the Sect Hierarch, and once the Hierarch ascended to heaven, the Saint Heir would rise to take his place.

But before becoming the Sect Hierarch, the Saint Heir’s rights were not substantial; he couldn’t even make staffing arrangements within the sect.

Hamza was the Sect Hierarch’s confidant, famed for his bravery. On the battlefields of the West, he always accomplished his missions with excellence, becoming the nightmare of his adversaries.

However, Hamza’s attitude towards the Saint Heir had always been ambiguous, and even somewhat intentionally distant.

On this trip to the central plains, the Saint Heir specifically requested Hamza be brought along, partly to win him over and partly to serve as a warning.

But along the way, Hamza wasn’t receptive to the Saint Heir’s attempts at drawing him closer, and even showed some resistance, causing the Saint Heir great dissatisfaction, to the point where he considered looking for an opportunity to thoroughly deal with Hamza.

If it weren’t for the fact that Hamza was the Sect Hierarch’s confidant, he would have wished to kill Hamza outright in the far East.

“Saint Heir, it is not that I lack courage or that I am afraid of trouble. It’s just that the events of today are too bizarre. Although I consider myself well-versed in dealing with tough situations, facing the corpses of these colleagues, I still feel a chill,” Hamza was well-prepared for the Saint Heir’s derision. He was loyal to the Sect Hierarch and did not want the sect to split into many factions.

“Hmph, lead the way!” The Saint Heir shook his head and stopped talking.

He was somewhat disappointed with Hamza.

“Please!”

Hamza led the way in front, no longer speaking or interacting with the Saint Heir.

They had walked less than five meters when the Saint Heir stopped, his nose keenly sniffing the scents in the air.

He was always sensitive to these odors; it was one of his natural gifts.

“Something is amiss.”

The Saint Heir stopped, closed his eyes, and began to sense the scents swirling in the air.

Ordinary people’s sense of smell could only distinguish basic odors, like fragrance or stench.

But the Saint Heir, with his extraordinary talent, could detect the scent of unfamiliar people.

Less than five meters ahead of them, the bodies of the previously encountered Hidden Guards were on the ground, dismembered.

More than a dozen men, all killed in the same way, and it seemed they had no chance to resist at all.

One could say that from the outset, this was a massacre.

Seeing the Saint Heir’s calm demeanor, Hamza was somewhat surprised.

When he had first seen this scene, he had felt his stomach churn, and he vomited on the spot.

Yet, the Saint Heir faced these severed limbs and mutilated bodies without the slightest hint of surprise.

“Who goes there, you coward at night!”

Whoosh!

The previously closed-eyed Saint Heir suddenly opened his eyes, and two flames burst forth from his palms, shooting directly toward a tree ten meters away!

Rustle!

As the flames reached the tree, a figure instantly dashed aside.

“There’s someone!”

Hamza also realized the presence of an enemy at the same time. He immediately took out the box of hidden weapons from his back and started shooting at the shadow in the air!

Swish!

At the same time, a cold gleam cut through the air, flying straight towards Hamza!

Years of living on the edge had honed Hamza’s skills. Facing this sudden attack, he dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow!

But an arrow still pierced his arm!

“Hamza!”

The Saint Heir, looking at the fleeing figure, hesitated for a moment before quickly running to Hamza’s side.

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