Chapter 253 Surprised?

• "I do know," the middle-aged man nodded. "So right now, the operation against the Bloody Church has already begun." He glanced at his watch and went on, "In at most half an hour, the Bloody Church as an organization will be gone." Xiao let out a cold laugh. "You think you’re God? And I’m supposed to buy that?" "You’ll believe it soon enough. The Bloody Church’s members are scattered, sure, which makes it hard to wipe them out in one sweep. But the tiny, insignificant Mantini Chapel next to St. Paul’s Basilica in the Vatican City will be leveled. Your priest won’t get away." The middle-aged man’s voice was calm and unhurried. Xiao’s body trembled. He stared at the man in disbelief. "How do you… know all this? Who are you?" "I thought you already knew—night has fallen, and the light has withdrawn." "Dark Night?" Xiao’s face changed fast. In the underworld, that name meant both the Dark Night organization and its ruler—a legend. He’d heard lately that Dark Night people had entered Cruice, but he hadn’t expected them to be his enemies. "You came for the Dragon-Pattern Compass?" Xiao gave a bitter smile. "I haven’t even made a move, and you’re already clearing out the threats?" "You’re flattering yourself. You’ll never get the Dragon-Pattern Compass," the man said coolly. "Because the compass is already in our king’s hand." Xiao froze. "Your king? Not the Dark Night Lord…" Mid-sentence, realization slammed into him. "That Damon King is the Dark Night Lord?" Years ago, the underworld buzzed with a rumor that the Dark Night Lord was from Cruice. But it was just a rumor—no proof either way—and as Dark Night went quiet and low-profile, people stopped caring. Now everything lined up. So all of this was a setup by Dark Night? His face went ashen. "Who are you in Dark Night?" "I thought you’d guessed. I’m the Prophet." "The Prophet!" Xiao rolled the famous name on his tongue and gave a wan smile. "Didn’t expect I’d die by the Prophet’s hand. Not exactly shameful. Why haven’t you pulled the trigger yet?" "Does the Bloody Church have a fragment of the Dragon-Pattern Compass?" the Prophet asked. "Yes." Xiao answered without hesitation. "It’s with the priest." The words had barely left his mouth when he snatched for his gun. But the Prophet wasn’t about to make that kind of mistake. He squeezed the trigger. With a sharp crack, a bloody hole bloomed in Xiao’s brow the instant his gun cleared the holster. He crumpled to the floor. His eyes stayed wide open, refusing to close. After getting knocked around earlier, he’d finally gotten cautious, and still he’d gone down on what he’d thought was a sure-thing job. The Prophet reengaged the safety, turned, and strode off. A huge man, built like a polar bear, lumbered up. Dark Night’s Titan—strength like a giant. That discus earlier had been his throw, spooking Xiao into bolting so the Prophet could ambush him. "He was telling the truth." The Prophet pulled out a satellite phone and dialed. The line clicked through at once, gunfire roaring on the other end. "The priest has a fragment our king wants. Get it," the Prophet said. "Copy." … On the other side. The Duke and the Viper pressed damp cloths over their noses and mouths and slipped into Villa No. 1. They didn’t know why, but the air didn’t smell any different. Still, they kept up their guard. They’d come in after others, so there was less to worry about. Once inside, they found the rest already spread out and searching. Different factions, different allegiances—everyone was busy hunting, and somehow nobody was clashing. The two shared a look, took in the layout, and headed straight for the study. In theory, a study was the most likely place to stash a Dragon-Pattern Compass fragment. They were well prepared. They hadn’t been inside Villa No. 1 before, but they had checked other villas. The layout here wasn’t identical, but the style matched. They reached the study door fast. One glance inside showed three people already tearing the place apart. No hesitation. The two men blurred forward and struck. The trio inside reacted, but as they moved, the Duke’s body twisted at an odd angle—he was suddenly behind one of them, forearm clamped around the man’s neck, squeezing hard. The Viper lived up to his name. Both hands flicked; two thin needles lanced into the other two men’s throats. Clutching their necks, the pair stumbled and crashed to the floor. The Duke gestured for the Viper to hold the doorway while he snapped on the light—made searching easier. The brightness stung. Both men squinted. That tiny pause was all it took. A voice came from the hall. "Duke!" The Viper hissed a warning and snapped a poison needle through the air. In broad daylight that move was almost impossible to guard against—never mind at night, even with the lights on. But as he loosed it, his pupils shrank hard. The figure at the door lifted a hand—and a gale roared. Pressure slammed down, fierce and icy, killing intent surging as it swept in. The dart the Viper had thrown whipped back in the storm of force, skimming past his side. Shock hit him like a truck. He yanked up a short blade and chopped straight down. Steel flashed. But it felt like he’d stepped into a never-ending hurricane. His knife was knocked off-line by brute force, his stance thrown. "Screw this!" The Duke reacted, springing forward and throwing a punch. On his knuckles, a strange power spun up—rippling out like a vortex. It was weird as hell. Like a tiny black hole, or some mystery that sat beyond reality itself, turning without end. It actually held the storm for a heartbeat. "Huh?" The man at the door seemed mildly surprised. Then his palm pressed down. A stronger wave of force swept in, shredding the vortex at the Duke’s fist. The palm slid on and smacked into his knuckles. It was like getting blasted by a speeding semi. The Duke flew like a sack of grain, smashed into the study desk, and lay there groaning, who knew how many bones cracked. The Viper snapped his wrist and sliced with his blade. But that hand flicked—and caught his full-power strike. He tried to launch another needle, but the force rolled over him, drums in his bones. He went limp like a dead snake, slammed to the floor, blood spilling from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. The Duke rolled, looked up at the man striding in, and his face drained. He gasped, "D—Damon King?" "Surprised?" The one who’d struck was Damon King. He answered in the common international tongue, then swung open the bookcase. Inside sat a safe. He pulled something out and held it up in front of the Duke. Damon said, "This what you were looking for?" It was a fragment of the Dragon-Pattern Compass.