Chapter 27: A Thousand Miles to Offer One's Head

The helicopter landed atop the tallest building at Stone Creek University. According to the boy, he had financed its construction, and thus he claimed a private office there. After disembarking, the former archbishop departed on his own. He was the vanguard of this operation, tasked with handling matters related to the Demon’s Gate.

Once the archbishop was gone, the boy entered his office. In truth, it was no more than a private lounge for him—there was no actual work to be done. This, if anything, only heightened the boy’s sense of grandeur. The office exuded a blatant air of extravagance, so much so that even the senior brother could hardly bear to look at it.

Seeing that there was still more than half a day before the operation began, the senior brother told the boy he intended to take a stroll around the campus. Ou Xiaolu, too, found it difficult to stay in the office and voiced his wish to go out. The boy, aware that he might have overdone his display, agreed with a nod. They all knew the plan and the appointed time and place, so as long as everyone arrived punctually, it would be fine.

Stepping out of the building, Ou Xiaolu pondered where to go. Over the past few days, he’d come to know the campus graffiti well, but remained unfamiliar with the functions of various buildings. Today seemed a good opportunity to explore.

Yet the moment he stepped outside, a vague unease crept over him. He wondered if he ought to return to the boy’s office and endure another round of boasting. He couldn’t shake the sense that if he walked a few steps further, something unpleasant would happen.

Trusting his instincts, he was about to turn back when a voice called from behind, “Hey, you cripple, stop right there.”

Since the accident, Ou Xiaolu was sensitive about his arm. The words made his eyes burn with anger. He turned to see where the voice had come from.

Five white men approached. Leading them was an elderly man, perhaps in his fifties, with neatly groomed white hair. Behind him walked two middle-aged men in their thirties, bearing a striking resemblance to each other. The older of the two stayed close to the elder, while the younger pointed at Ou Xiaolu and muttered something.

Trailing them were two men dressed as bodyguards. One of them was vaguely familiar to Ou Xiaolu—he recalled seeing him as one of Mr. Lake’s bodyguards.

Faced with such a group, Ou Xiaolu was speechless. What was this, a troupe coming to court death?

The younger man, seeing Ou Xiaolu’s anger, looked rather pleased with himself. He stepped forward, passing the elder and his companion, and drew near to Ou Xiaolu.

“So, you’re the one Lake said he was protecting? You don’t look like much. My name’s Harry—I’ve taken Lake’s seat as junior councilman. From now on, you’re under my authority. Remember to deliver your monthly tribute to me on time, or I’ll break your other arm.”

“Tribute?” Ou Xiaolu asked.

“That’s right. Whatever you gave Lake for your position as an outer member of the Holy Blood Council, you’ll give the same to me each month. Out of pity for your disability, I won’t raise it by thirty percent,” Harry said smugly.

“And if I refuse?” Ou Xiaolu was not one to indulge such people.

“You refuse? Perhaps you don’t understand the gap between full and outer members. All full members possess extraordinary power. I’ve just ascended to junior councilman. If you want to die, just say so.”

“Lunatic,” Ou Xiaolu spat, not even bothering to look at Harry, and turned to leave.

Ou Xiaolu’s attitude infuriated Harry. With a roar, Harry’s hands took on the color and texture of stone, and he swung a fist at Ou Xiaolu’s head. Had the blow landed, Ou Xiaolu’s skull would have been shattered like a watermelon under a rock.

Yet the other white men did nothing to intervene; they only smiled, as if waiting to see Ou Xiaolu killed.

But Ou Xiaolu was never one to stand idle and take a beating. With a single motion, he flicked black ink into Harry’s face. Then he stepped back, out of Harry’s reach, his right hand resting on the sword at his back.

Only then did the elder and the older companion realize something was amiss. They shouted, “Stop!”

But it was too late. A flash of the sword, and Harry’s head flew from his shoulders in a spray of blood. Ou Xiaolu touched down lightly, not a drop staining him.

He raised his sword, face dark, and glared at the elder and his companion. “Well? Do you have anything to say?”

The older man pointed at Ou Xiaolu. “Boy, you’re making an enemy of the Holy Blood Council.”

“You don’t speak for the Council,” Ou Xiaolu replied coldly, calculating how long it would take to kill them all.

“Is that so? Then I—” The elder began, but was interrupted as several men in red suits exited the building. They all wore red sunglasses, looking like a crimson version of the Men in Black.

Without acknowledging the confrontation, these men efficiently cleaned up Harry’s corpse. Before anyone could react, both the body and the blood vanished, as if Harry had never existed.

After the men in red retreated into the building, the older companion tried to say something to Ou Xiaolu, but the elder tugged his sleeve and shook his head slightly.

“Chairman?” asked the companion.

“We’re leaving,” the elder said firmly.

“But my brother—”

“He lost a challenge. Within the Council, this is perfectly reasonable. Even if you take it to the Council, this is how it will be handled.”

“What challenge? Chairman, you know the truth—my brother was a junior councilman, and he targeted an outer member. The status is unequal. How could this count as losing a challenge?” Harry’s brother protested loudly.

“I say it was a failed challenge, and that’s what it is. If you have a problem, go ask the original rule-makers. If you can’t find them, I’ll be happy to send you to them myself.”

At this, Harry’s brother fell silent. Everyone knew the Council’s rules had been set over a century ago, and those who made them were long dead. The elder’s words were a clear threat.

Suppressing his rage, Harry’s brother shot Ou Xiaolu a venomous glare and turned away.

The elder, meanwhile, offered Ou Xiaolu a slight bow before leaving with the two bodyguards.

Their swift departure left Ou Xiaolu at a loss. What, exactly, had they come for? Was this some legendary case of traveling miles just to offer themselves up as cannon fodder?