NOVEL NEXT Chapter 439: Red Widow
Ethan flinched at the sight of her. He immediately darted to the side, quickening his pace. That woman—her presence alone was dangerous. Her aura radiated power, and the gleam of her weapon was enough to set his nerves on edge. Worse, when he got close, a cloying, intoxicating scent drifted from her, heating his blood as if trying to spark a fire within him.
And yet her face, caked beneath a mask of heavy powder, somehow carried a shy blush.
Who does she think she's fooling? Ethan thought grimly. Red Widow had to be a master of some high-level charm sorcery. There was no way a face smeared in powder thick enough to rival a soot-blackened pan could still flush naturally.
"Oh, sweetheart … don't be afraid!"
Her voice was syrupy, but her hand only caught the afterimage of Ethan's retreating figure. She stumbled midair, whispering faintly as if to herself—but he heard it clear as day:
"Big sis is truly out of strength…"
Ethan swept his Soul Sense over her. She was still airborne, but her aura wavered, the hand gripping her gleaming scissor-like weapon trembled slightly. Could that last attack have drained her so much?
He hesitated, then flicked his wrist. A long rope of soul power lashed out behind him, wrapping around Red Widow's waist.
"Ah…" she gasped softly, her eyes flashing with a trace of resentment. She didn't struggle. Instead, she let Ethan reel her in toward the open safe passage.
"You know Jed, don't you?" she whispered as she closed the distance.
Ethan hesitated before replying, "No. I don't."
"Heh heh… sharp little brat. Don't worry—no one here but me can see through you. You can't hide that you're using the Force Resonance technique. So… tell me. Is Jed here too?"
Ethan's heart jolted. How could she know that? Could she be… a former lover?
As if reading his thoughts, Red Widow chuckled, "Bingo, kid."
Ethan stiffened and turned toward her.
"Relax," she added, her voice sly now instead of sultry. "I don't read minds. I just guess well."
'If that's not mind-reading, I don't know what is', Ethan thought grimly.
"Alright then, is he here or not?"
"He's not," Ethan said evenly.
Red Widow studied him for a moment, then sighed, disappointment flickering in her eyes. That was enough to confirm to Ethan that her connection with Uncle Jed wasn't simple. But he didn't want to dwell on whether she was a lover, ally, or enemy. He had other problems—like surviving this trial alive.
Her voice slipped into his ear again. "Those ahead are priests of the Windspirit Faction from Hurricane City. Be careful."
The warning came just in time. Ethan's Soul Sense flared, feeling a dozen powerful psychic probes lancing into his mind. A coordinated ambush.
"Hmph!" He snarled, and his Soul Power surged through his Mindscape. A dragon's roar rumbled in his consciousness, shattering the intruding streams of power and forcing them out. Blood immediately ran from his nose.
Their attack wasn't overwhelming individually, but together they formed a fusion strike—deadly and efficient. The priests in the distance staggered as their Soul Power scattered, but none were injured. They had been slower than the Forgotten City hunters for one reason: their leader had ordered them to ambush Ethan. If he died, so be it. The Sigil of the Wild Legion he carried was already nearby. Opening the trial gate didn't require its wielder to survive—it only needed to be cast into the sky to trigger the keyhole of the hidden realm.
Rage flared in Ethan's chest.
"Don't retaliate. Time is short!"
The weak voice in his ear made him glance back. Red Widow was bleeding from her nose, ears, and eyes. Ethan's stomach tightened. No wonder some of the psychic assaults had weakened before reaching him—she had intercepted part of the strike.
He yanked on the rope, drawing her closer.
The Windspirit priests weren't done. A man's brow glowed, and hundreds of almost invisible crystal needles launched toward them.
Buzz…
A shimmering wall of water materialized around Ethan. Then another. And another. In seconds, forty-two concentric layers of liquid barriers surrounded him and Red Widow.
"Don't resist. They're from Clearspring City," Red Widow murmured, one arm draped weakly over his shoulder.
The needles struck the water curtain and vanished harmlessly.
"Lord Ethan! We are under orders to escort you safely—please rest assured!"
The voice came from the War God–rank fighters of Clearspring City, who had cast the shield in perfect unison.
Ethan exhaled slowly and lowered his weapon, Twilight Warspear, which had shifted back from its Ursar's Claws form. He nodded towards the distant figures. "Thank you."
With the water shield guarding him, he passed by the glowering priests of Hurricane City and slipped into the safe passage. They could do nothing; the forty-two-layer shield was impregnable.
A man in fine robes from Clearspring City drifted toward the priests and shrugged. "Gentlemen… so many War God–level beast-folk ahead, all carrying treasures. Aren't you going to take a few?"
The priests didn't answer, their faces dark.
The man grinned. "Ah, that's right. Hurricane City doesn't lack high-grade beast cores. Us poor folk from Clearspring rarely even see a beast-folk, let alone claim a core. Well then—we'll go hunt some ourselves. Can't let the Forgotten City take all the spoils!" He laughed and led his team toward the battlefield.
With Ethan gone, the beast-folk lost their target. They fought briefly, then retreated across Rumination Gorge back toward the Southwest Region. The battle had been brutal: four warriors from Forgotten City lay dead, but eleven beast-folk had fallen. The gorge itself was a ruin, yellow sand blasted into dunes that nearly buried the valley.
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Far from the chaos, Uncle Jed leaned against the magical barrier conjured by twenty thousand Illusionary Qilin, flask in hand. He watched Ethan disappear into the safe passage, his expression more tense than relieved. His eyes flicked toward the figure in Ethan's grasp—Red Widow.
"Deputy Commander Rourke, can we move through the entrance while maintaining the illusion?" he asked. Julian had already gone ahead, and Bongo was unconscious. Command now rested on Rourke's shoulders.
The grizzled veteran frowned. "Barely. But I'm worried—"
"Bah!" Uncle Jed waved a hand. "No wonder you're still a deputy commander at your age. What's there to be afraid of? Full army advance. Keep the illusion running. We enter Hurricane!"
The order snapped like a whip, and the column began to move.