— — — — — —
Hong Kong City.
On the Shek O Peninsula stood a secluded villa — the Lu family estate.
In the courtyard, Lu Yinghua practiced his stances in training clothes.
As the personal disciple of The Ruler of the Martial Realm Luo Hao, Yinghua — barely sixteen — had already reached an astonishing level of martial skill.
Even within the martial arts cult Luo Hao had founded, only a handful of elders could confidently claim to be stronger than him.
But Yinghua didn't really care. He didn't even particularly value martial arts.
The reason he trained every single day, rain or shine, wasn't about ambition or discipline — it was just habit.
Because Luo Hao had personally taught him since he was a child, Yinghua liked to joke that even if he were unconscious, his body would still get up at five in the morning to go through his drills.
Just like today.
The old Lu family butler stepped into the courtyard and called toward Yinghua, who was still moving through his forms with eyes closed and even snoring softly.
"Young Master, breakfast is ready."
"..."
"Young Master?"
The butler called again. When Yinghua still didn't respond, he muttered under his breath, barely audible: "Six-thirty breakfast is one of the Cult Leader's rules."
Whoosh!
Yinghua's eyes flashed open, glinting like steel. He clasped his hands in a salute, turned toward the east, slid to his knees, and declared solemnly: "Disciple Yinghua offers respect — may Master's wisdom and martial virtue last for all eternity."
The butler, long used to this routine, only said dryly, "Young Master, the Cult Leader hasn't left Mount Lu in years."
Still kneeling, Yinghua replied quietly, "I know."
"Then why—"
"Habit. Can't help it."
Yinghua sighed with a touch of tragic dignity, then stood, brushed the dust off his training pants, and, like a weary sage who had seen through the world, said: "Uncle Lu, the prettier the woman, the more trouble she brings."
"And the ones with the highest standards are the worst — because you never know when a casual word from her is actually a test."
The butler went silent for a moment, then asked with a hint of amusement: "So you keep up the routine just in case the Cult Leader suddenly decides to step outside, remembers you, and catches you slacking?"
"When it comes to Master, every bit of caution is worth it."
Yinghua let out another heavy sigh, then strode into the hall toward the dining room.
"Uncle Lu," he asked along the way, "any news on the new King?"
"I've placed the intelligence report on the table," the butler answered calmly.
Yinghua nodded, sat down, and began eating buns with soy milk while flipping through the documents carefully.
He read for a long time before letting out a low whistle. "This is a headache."
"What's wrong?" the butler asked while brewing tea.
Yinghua grimaced.
"We still can't pin down the new King's background. We mobilized the entire intelligence division, searched every single person named Ryo Yagami in Japan, and didn't find a single match."
"Could he be an overseas descendant?" the butler suggested.
"We looked into that too, even with our limited overseas assets. Nothing." Yinghua shook his head and muttered, "It's like he popped out of a stone."
The butler's expression turned a bit grim.
"With intelligence this incomplete, how are we supposed to report back to the Cult Leader?"
"This isn't just incomplete," Yinghua groaned. "This is career-ending!"
Just thinking of his Master made his body tremble.
A new King had appeared in the East. Luo Hao had to be informed, no question.
And in Yinghua's mind, that report had to be on her desk within fifteen days — any later and she'd take it as dereliction of duty.
And if the report didn't include Ryo's birthplace, his family tree, and exactly what martial arts he practiced, then it wouldn't just be dereliction — it would be incompetence.
Either way, it would probably cost him his life.
"Good thing Master still hasn't taken much interest in the internet," Yinghua muttered, half relieved, half bitter. "Otherwise the deadline would be even shorter."
But regardless of technology, the clock was ticking.
There were countless organizations around the world gathering intelligence on Ryo, and yet after four days, there wasn't a single lead. At this rate, fifteen days was looking impossible.
"Should we ask overseas gangs to pitch in?" the butler suggested.
"Tell them to try, though I'm not holding my breath."
Yinghua waved his hand, looking frustrated. "Hopefully they can at least dig up a clue."
Then, with a bitter laugh, he added, "Why is this new King hiding so carefully? Is he just bored, or is he plotting something huge?"
"A conspiracy?" The butler chuckled. "Surely not. There's no way he could've predicted becoming a god-slayer. No one plans that far ahead — it's not like there was some grand scheme to kill Master."
But the moment he said it, both men fell silent.
"…Actually," he admitted after a beat, "that might not be impossible."
Yinghua flexed his fingers, his gaze sharpening.
"Even the so-called righteous sects of China have hated our Cult for over a century. It wouldn't be insane for them to cooperate with Japan and raise a god-slayer specifically to take Master down."
"So you think the new King might actually be an assassin they've trained?" the butler asked under his breath.
"Unlikely," Yinghua admitted, "but unlikely doesn't mean impossible."
He sighed, flipped to the last page of the report, and narrowed his eyes.
"After killing Verethragna and Melqart, he met with Marquis Voban in Rome — and instead of stopping him, he let Voban kill two gods. That's… suspicious."
Yinghua tapped the table thoughtfully.
A few days ago, Ryo had fought gods head-on, but the moment Voban appeared, he backed off.
No way that was coincidence.
He probably struck a deal — maybe even traded away a god on purpose to let Voban have his kill.
And what could be worth that price?
Everything in the report pointed to the same conclusion: Ryo and Voban are working together — and they might be plotting to assassinate Luo Hao.
"The chances are looking higher and higher," the butler muttered darkly.
After all, Ryo had done nothing but suspicious things ever since he appeared.
"If his next move involves Japan or China—maybe the whole East," the butler said slowly, "then it's almost certain he's plotting something."
Yinghua nodded grimly.
Just then, a young man in a martial uniform rushed in, bowed, and reported: "News from our agents in Europe! The new King has boarded a flight headed straight for Jiujiang Airport!"
Yinghua shot to his feet, face dark.
"Just as Uncle Lu predicted!"
The thought that Ryo might actually intend to kill Luo Hao and take her place made Yinghua pace back and forth before slapping his thigh.
"I'm writing to Master immediately, laying everything out!"
"Young Master," the butler said gravely, "the more dangerous the situation, the more careful you must be about where you stand."
Yinghua's pupils narrowed. After a moment, he nodded firmly.
"Thank you, Uncle Lu. I'll write the letter, then head to Mount Lu myself and do everything I can to intercept the new King!"
The butler's expression softened into approval as he nodded back.
---
Meanwhile, in Rome.
At 10 PM local time, Ryo strolled onto the government-arranged private jet with Athena and Liliana at his side.
.
.
.