"Um..." Ippe cleared his throat. "99th...?"
His tone curled up at the end as though he were hoping Theron would find that impressive out of ignorance. Either that, or he seemed unsure of his own ranking. Maybe even both.
From Theron’s perspective, if they really were descendants of the Galethunders, they should be as hated by the Heavens as he was. Just that alone should have made their Tribulations much harder.
The fact that, even with that advantage, their best rank was just 99th... was quite pathetic, actually.
Theron wouldn’t be surprised if the Bell Clan didn’t even have a person on the ranking at all.
He also had no idea what Raan’s rank was, but he knew enough to know the latter was far stronger than Ippe—and he had crushed him in a far weaker state.
"Alright, alright. I get it," Ippe sighed. "I wanted to—"
Ippe coughed up a mouthful of blood, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as Theron’s palm slammed into his chest. His ribs would have shattered completely if not for his inner armor, but that didn’t stop his inner organs from rolling around as though being tossed in a raging cyclone.
Shock colored Ippe’s features. He hadn’t even finished his words yet. He had seen Theron fight before, so he knew how decisive the latter was. But he still didn’t expect him to be so decisive.
Most lowered their guards when they saw such a simpleton in front of them, but Theron did nothing of the sort.
Ippe’s head spun as the back of his skull slammed into a tree. Somehow, Theron had used so much power and didn’t knock it down.
A violent aura kicked up, a flicker of lightning following as a middle-aged man appeared a small distance away. But by this point, Ippe’s life was completely in Theron’s control.
Sensing the state of his body, Theron felt that he was about 80% or so recovered. That was good enough for him to continue on his journey, but if he was correct, this man wasn’t a simple one.
That meant the middle-aged man, not Ippe.
This was troublesome. Theron knew that, given how many people were moving due to his minor movements, there would certainly be some he wasn’t aware of acting based on them as well.
However, if he was correct, the Harmon Clan had made their move even before he was taken by the Mandate Guild. Given how Ippe spoke about family, it was very possible that he had pegged Theron from the moment he saw him fight Monet—let alone Raan afterward.
In that case, the Harmon Clan was actually a step ahead of everyone. They just acted a little too late, only to get lucky that Theron managed to find a way to escape all on his own.
"There’s no need for this," the middle-aged man said slowly. "Like young Ippe said, we are family."
Theron felt an agitation growing in his head.
The first time Ippe had said it, he ignored it. The second time Ippe said it, he felt a twinge that he just as quickly suppressed. Hearing it a third time—and in a situation where his adrenaline was already pumping—he felt the anger flare up for a moment.
A chilling breath left Theron’s lips and Ippe felt as though he had been plunged into the depths of hell. His body shivered from head to toe, his lips turning an icy blue beneath Theron’s touch.
Did they think that just because he was 14 years old, he really was a child after everything he had experienced? Were they trying to coddle him into a false sense of security with their juvenile tactics? Who did they think they were?
His family? His family had died nearly a year ago now. He had watched them be decimated before his eyes. His mother, his father, his little sister.
Every one of them was gone.
Theron’s palm pressed even harder against Ippe’s chest, the pressure of his blow so strong that the tree the latter was pressed against showed signs of bending and snapping. Caught between it and Theron’s palm, Ippe felt like he was being squeezed between two immovable objects, his fragile body ready to be the first to give way.
"I will only ask this once," Theron said coldly. "How did you find me?"
Theron wasn’t even looking at the middle-aged man, his gaze firmly locked onto Ippe.
Ippe’s eyes were bulging, half with unwillingness and another half with fear. However, his reactions were honest. His gaze flickered down to the necklace around Theron’s neck—a necklace that, from the moment Theron had been cultivating, not a single person had ever acknowledged.
He had had his father’s short sword taken away before, but despite the fact his necklace had been absorbing his chilling breath for years, no one ever acknowledged it.
Theron had been paying attention to this especially in recent months. Usually, if someone was wearing an accessory, it would at least draw some attention from time to time, even if it was just a brief glance.
But no one ever looked at what was around Theron’s neck, as though they didn’t register there being anything at all.
So when Ippe’s eyes flickered down like that, it sent rolling waves off in Theron’s heart.
*This is how they’re tracking me...*
But Theron was at a point now that he couldn’t even take the necklace off. The thing felt indestructible, and the latches he had once been able to undo and re-clasp as he pleased were immovable.
Even if he could move it though, he wouldn’t. The necklace was obviously something that was helping him over a long, sustained period of time. If he took it off, whatever progress it made would stall—and right now, improvement, especially fast improvement, was exactly what he needed.
But the question became, then... if he could be found so easily due to an item he couldn’t even take off for the moment, how was he going to deal with this?
His plan was to swim through the chaos and become the fisherman that made out with the greatest haul at the end. But if there was one party that could always easily find him...
Suddenly that became impossible.