章 118: Ruthless Traitor?
It was not that Oliver was looking at the man's aged face, but at what he had in his hands.
In his right hand was Alphonso, who was being dragged by his neck, and in his left hand was Amber, who was being dragged along by her hair.
Oliver's heart sank, his mind racing as he took in their brutalized forms. Oliver's pupils shook slightly as his heart raced faster and faster with every passing second, looking at their state.
They were riddled with deep wounds all over their bodies. Their hands and legs were covered in purple bruises, and Alphonso's face was almost ruined with deep gashes.
Alphonso was unconscious while Amber was letting out pitiful sobs, being dragged along by the man who held her by her hair tightly.
The man, looking at Oliver's face, grinned as he stretched his hand, pulling Amber's hair more tightly, making her cry out loud.
The man's grin widened, reveling in her pain, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He seemed to be enjoying her cries as he didn't loosen his grip in the slightest.
"How's it? What do you feel? Are you angry?" the old man raised his head and asked.
Oliver remained calm on the surface, but his heart was in turmoil, raging with intense emotions.
"Tch, tch… not a sliver of change?" the short man said, "Are all of you lot from Mystic Purge Clan born without a heart?"
Oliver did not say anything; he knew better than to ask the man to stop. The short man would only do it more and worse the more he tried to ask or threaten him, so he did not say anything and maintained a poker face.
"Here is your friend screaming out her lungs, and yet you look so heartless. Not a change in expression? I say this: you all from the Mystic Purge Clan do not care about anything other than power? Quite the demons you are yourselves, yet calling yourselves exorcists? What a joke!"
The man laughed as he mocked the clan. Oliver could feel that this man did not care about the clans at all and bore particular hatred towards his clan.
"Here this old man was expecting to see great expressions on your face using your friends here, but it seems I made a mistake… even their children are just as insane as them, huh." The man clicked his tongue.
Oliver maintained his calm eyes as he looked at Amber crying more and more while the old man kept adjusting his grip on her hair, torturing her more and more.
He noticed how she was having difficulty raising her arms, suspecting that he had broken them or paralyzed her.
She tried to adjust her position to lessen the pain somehow, but the old man didn't give her any leeway.
Oliver's eyes turned deadly when he saw the smile on the old man's face. However, the old man had yet to notice this change.
"So? Did I take her with me for nothing then? Is she nothing more than a tool for you, heir of Mystic Purge Clan?" the old man questioned with a bold smile and wide eyes.
Oliver maintained an expressionless face as he replied in a calm tone, "Indeed, she's nothing but a resource. Her life or death does not affect me or my plans. Kill her if you want."
Amber's sobs halted, her eyes widening in disbelief at his cold declaration. The smile on the old man's face widened as Amber, who was weakly struggling in his grasp, slowly looked his way.
He avoided her gaze as if she didn't matter or exist and kept his focus on the old man.
Amber's eyes had a look of absolute betrayal in them as she looked at the guy whom she once considered a friend.
She saw how he was not even bothered to meet her gaze, signifying her worth in his eyes.
A mix of despair and rage washed over her, her spirit breaking further with each passing second. A look of despair and hatred enveloped her as she looked at him before putting her head down, mumbling in a hushed tone.
"Bastard…"
However, she kept the tone to herself, not letting anyone hear her. Her head low as she didn't bother anymore.
"Impressive, bravo… such ruthlessness and decisiveness at this age. I can not imagine how you will turn out to be in the future."
Oliver did not speak; he had said those harsh words intentionally. He knew if he showed even a moment's worth of weakness, the clever old man would definitely use the two of them as bait to threaten him.
He had told him to kill Amber if he wanted because he wanted to make the old man completely lose interest in her. After all, if he was not going to be intimidated by hostages, then there was not really much of a point for the old man in killing the two.
The short-heighted old man must have already interrogated the two about their identities, and both of them being the heirs of the two major clans definitely put him under pressure.
It would not be much advantageous for him to kill the two heirs when he could have his sect or whoever his superior was exchange their lives for ransom and the lives of their captured comrades.
Plus, if he were to really kill them, then he could only wait for his death being chased by the forces of the two major clans.
They would not let him rest at all and definitely capture him even if he ran to the end of the world.
What would wait for him then would be endless torture or a painful exorcism.
So, the man had not much of an incentive to take their lives. Oliver did not mind playing his character.
The old man shivered as he muttered to himself. It was then his gaze traveled to the woman in black robes kneeling with her head touching the ground.
He shook his head, "This bitch had always been too arrogant, always looking down on others, and see what she has come to?"
The old man clicked his tongue before adding, "However, she had some skills, at least enough to not be defeated by a Rank-1 exorcist at all. For her to be reduced to this state…"
His gaze hardened, suspicion evident as he studied Oliver's composed demeanor. His eyes turned sinister as he gazed at the calm Oliver and asked, "What did you do to her, boy?"
Oliver seemed unfazed by the dense killing intent that emerged from the old man towards him.
Instead, he spoke something else, completely unrelated to anything.
"You seem to have some history with the Mystic Purge Clan."
The old man's mocking expression crumpled when he heard his words before the grin on his face disappeared.
Seeing this, Oliver further said, "Did the exorcists of my clan beat your old bones to death?"
The old man's eyes contained a ferocious glint when he heard this.
But before he could say anything, Oliver further added, as if saying to himself.
"Doubtful. Had you encountered an official clan member, with your measly strength, you would not have escaped to live."
At this moment, the old man's eyes were bloodshot as he heard Oliver's provocative sentences.
"Then this could only mean that you were defeated by a trainee, an unofficial member, one of the weakest in the clan." Oliver finally concluded and glanced at the old man, only to see the latter shaking in anger with red, angry eyes.
"This condescending tone… with that expressionless face, you are indeed the heir of the Mystic Purge Clan. Indeed, long ago, I was humiliated by one of your kin. But today, I will pay back the humiliation tenfold!"
The old man threw Amber and Alphonso with force, sending them crashing to the sides, which made Oliver heave a sigh of relief secretly.
He had managed to distract the old man completely from the two.
Now they were face-to-face. He could tell that the old man was stronger than the woman but was very cautious; he was hiding his aura as much as he could.
"Today, I will cut off your head, take it out, and sacrifice your blood to demons. Only then will my revenge be considered complete."
The old man said in a hoarse voice as he drew out a thin and sharp sword from his storage bracelet.
Oliver became alert as he felt a sense of danger from the old man, but upon closer look, he found out that the old man had a few openings in his stance.
Yet a heavy, inexplicable sense of foreboding settled in his chest. He could easily exploit those openings if they clashed, but for some reason, his chest grew heavy.
'So then what is this sense of crisis?'
He could not help but feel suspicious about the confidence the old man had when facing him with his level of sword skills.
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