Apollo leaned back on his chair, arms folded, his brows knitting tighter as the weight of the revelation sank in.
Sir Guo is being hunted… by the Black Arts Sect?
He exhaled slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. That cursed name carried weight. The Black Arts Sect wasn't just some shady organization lurking in back alleys—they were a nightmare spoken of in hushed voices, infamous for their taboo cultivation methods and their merciless pursuit of forbidden knowledge.
He tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. The image of that old man, always cloaked and hidden under a bamboo hat, filled his mind. Sir Guo… what the hell did you get yourself into?
Apollo hadn't seen him since arriving in the city. They were supposed to meet here, but two had passed since they left, and there had been no word.
Something was wrong.
They'd entered Manida ahead of him. So where were they?
