Su Hong frowned in confusion and leaned closer. Beneath the crooked mask, the half-visible face was none other than Donn, Lia’s grandfather!
“What?!”
Su Hong froze for a moment. Glancing at the dried, cracked glue on the broken sword hilt, he rubbed his forehead with a sigh.
The scene looked suspicious—but Su Hong’s mind had already pieced it all together.
“So stubborn… Why go to such lengths just to scare me?”
He sighed helplessly and bent down to help him up.
Just then, Lia came rushing from the other end of the street, arms full of vegetables, eyes wide with shock.
“Su Hong, wh-what happened? Grandfather? Why is he lying here dressed like this?”
Panicked, Lia dropped the vegetables. As she hurried closer, Donn groaned and stirred awake.
“What happened? Are you… are you two alright?”
Lia leaned in anxiously, checking both Su Hong and Donn for injuries.
Donn looked deeply embarrassed, struggling to speak. Su Hong simply shook his head casually.
“Nothing serious. Someone attacked us—probably robbers.”
As he spoke, Su Hong discreetly picked up the glue-smeared broken hilt and tossed it into the bushes.
Donn watched, stunned. He’d heard from Lia how sharp Su Hong was. He’d clearly figured everything out—yet chose to cover for him instead of exposing the truth to Lia!
A faint tremor passed through Donn’s clouded eyes. He shot Su Hong a deeply grateful glance before hastily playing along: “Yes, robbers! But they took nothing from this old man.”
He paused briefly, as if steeling himself, then continued with a forced chuckle.
“Ho ho ho, no need to worry, Lia. This old man’s perfectly fine—just bumped by a stray brick. Luckily, Su Hong returned just in time to scare them off.”
Su Hong blinked in surprise. Donn, breaking from his usual stern gaze, subtly gave him a thumbs-up.
Lia bit her lip slightly, eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you…”
“Uh, n-no problem. Let’s head back.”
Feeling awkward about the lie, Su Hong kept his head down while gathering the scattered vegetables for her.
Meanwhile, the steward practically tumbled into the guild president’s office.
Chris sat contentedly with his legs propped on the desk, reviewing documents listing hefty earnings. At the door bursting open, he didn’t even look up—he knew only one person would dare barge in unannounced.
“My steward? Back already? How did things go with Su Hong—”
He glanced up mid-sentence—and nearly toppled off his chair.
His usually immaculate steward stood covered in soot, hair singed in patches, clothes torn to rags. He looked worse than a refugee.
“President! That Su Hong is as good as dead! I nearly died there myself!”
“Oh? Even you nearly got killed? What happened?”
Chris sat up instantly, curiosity sharpening his gaze as he sized up the steward.
The steward panted, still shaken. After catching his breath, he rasped: “That assassin wielded two Spirit Cards at once! His attacks were utterly unpredictable. He spotted me but didn’t chase—clearly after Su Hong alone.”
Chris wasn’t well-versed in Spirit Card combat. He didn’t grasp the details, but the description sounded formidable.
“So… Su Hong is definitely dead?”
The steward nodded vigorously. Chris tapped his fingers rhythmically on the documents, a dismissive smirk curling his lips.
“Dead would be ideal. Then we raid that shabby shop and seize the two unseen Spirit Cards. Even if he survives, he’ll hide in fear. Our priority is power! Thanks to this Spirit Card sales wave, we’ve gained fame and gold. Now towns across the region know—the legendary Old Xu is under *my* control, Chris!”
“President… who is Old Xu?”
“The Spirit Card creator! Did you forget? The Spirit Card Cinema credits listed Old Xu—not Su Hong!”
Chris stood, shoved the chair aside, and turned to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“A Stellar Rank Glyphsmith is Old Xu’s devoted fan. We’ll use this powerful ally to squeeze out every rival merchant and dominate this town’s wealth!”
The steward’s jaw dropped. Then, ecstasy flooded his face—he clenched his fists tightly.
“Heavens! A Stellar Rank Glyphsmith?! Congratulations, President!”
