Chapter 78: Bloody Battle in the Deep Alley

“Silence! Stop slandering me! My bond with the elder brother is deep and true—how could I ever betray it? My dear niece, why would you choose a boyfriend so lacking in propriety? Your uncle truly feels sorry for you!” Grover’s expression changed dramatically. He shot to his feet, slammed a hand on the table, and roared in anger.

Unperturbed, Han Shuo let out a soft laugh and joked, “We all know the truth in our hearts. Phoebe, as the president’s only daughter, ought to be the most qualified candidate to succeed him. If she were assassinated, who would stand to gain the most?”

“When did the affairs of the Booster Trading House become the business of an outsider? Phoebe, you really ought to keep this ignorant outsider in check,” Grover shot Han Shuo a venomous glare, then turned to Phoebe.

Phoebe, who had regained her composure from her earlier panic, still maintained a veneer of cordiality with Grover. She hadn’t expected Han Shuo to be so direct, clashing with Grover from the outset, tearing away the last pretense and disrupting all her plans. She was momentarily at a loss.

Yet as Han Shuo and Grover exchanged barbs, Phoebe reconsidered and found Han Shuo’s approach rather refreshing. His actions made her stance crystal clear before the elders, showing them that she was not weak or unwilling to fight for her place.

But this was not the time to weigh gains and losses. With Han Shuo having drawn such a sharp line, there was no turning back. As soon as Grover finished speaking, Phoebe confidently declared, “That’s right, Uncle Grover. I believe I am capable of leading the Trading House as president. Though I have spent years abroad, my father never ceased to guide me, and all I have learned is related to managing the Trading House—these were all arranged by my father long ago. I hope you’ll support me, Uncle. If I fall short, you may instruct me. I am confident I can manage the Trading House well.”

“My dear niece, your courage is commendable. But this is no child’s play. A single misstep could doom the Trading House beyond recovery. Your uncle is timid—I cannot take such a risk,” Grover replied, his face dark, now that all pretense was gone.

At that moment, Andrew, leaning on his cane, slowly rose and spoke in a gentle voice, “There’s no point in further quarrel. How about this: let young Phoebe try for three months. If the Trading House prospers under her hand, she shall remain president. Otherwise, Grover will resume the post. What say you all?”

With Andrew’s suggestion, all elders but the three who supported Grover nodded in agreement. After everyone had voted, Andrew smiled at Grover and said, “Since the majority agrees, let’s proceed as such for now. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Though he was bitterly unwilling, Grover could do nothing as most elders had agreed. Resigned, he said, “Very well—let us do as you say.”

Andrew nodded with a smile. “Good. I have some matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. Oh, Phoebe, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. If you’re free, why not come to my house for a chat?”

“Gladly! I was hoping to ask for your advice on managing the Trading House,” Phoebe replied with a smile, standing and setting down her wineglass. She shot Han Shuo a glance, completely ignoring Grover, and headed for the door.

Understanding, Han Shuo set his wineglass down and, meeting Grover’s icy, venomous glare, returned a cold, mocking smile and followed Phoebe out.

Once outside, Phoebe glanced around to ensure no one was near, then said softly to Han Shuo, “Head back to my residence first. I’ll join you after talking with Grandpa Andrew. We’ll speak then.”

Andrew, standing by his carriage, called out with a kindly smile, “Phoebe, your boyfriend is quite bold to challenge Grover in front of everyone. You certainly have an eye for character!”

Blushing, Phoebe glanced at Han Shuo and murmured, “Be careful on the road.” Then she turned to Andrew, coquettishly saying, “Not at all—he’s so thick-headed he drives me mad!”

Han Shuo did not stay to overhear their conversation. Nor did he take the carriage in which he and Phoebe had arrived. Instead, he set off alone, heading north through the city.

By now it was deep into the night, and the streets were nearly deserted. When Han Shuo first left the Booster Trading House, he sensed no danger. But as he crossed a street and entered a dark alley, his vigilance suddenly heightened.

With a thought, three spectral demons silently slipped from the nape of his neck, vanishing into the darkness without a trace and fanning out in three directions to scout the area.

It was as if he had suddenly gained several extra pairs of eyes—Han Shuo could now see not just ahead, but also behind and to both sides, every movement clear to him. The spectral demons, refined through his demonic arts, emitted neither magical nor martial energy, and in their incorporeal state, were nearly impossible to detect with the naked eye. Thus, their departure and surveillance went entirely unnoticed.

Behind him, Ellis—the high-level wind mage he had previously encountered—trailed him like a ghost, soundless and ethereal. On the rooftops to either side, four assassins dressed in black crept silently, drawing closer.

Startled, Han Shuo realized Grover was bolder than he’d imagined. He’d barely left the Trading House, and already Grover had set his killers upon him, clearly harboring the deepest hatred.

In such a moment, with his life hanging in the balance, Han Shuo found himself calm. There were five adversaries in all: Ellis, the wind mage, and four others, each formidable—two warriors, a mage, and an archer. Without the spectral demons to track their movements, Han Shuo would have had no chance of survival.

But with the spectral demons, he was not without hope. From Phoebe’s earlier descriptions, Han Shuo knew that just ahead in the alley was a residence garrisoned by imperial troops. He had chosen this dark alley precisely because of that.

Thinking quickly, he realized his pursuers would only dare strike within this alley. If he passed through, their chance would be lost. His spatial ring flashed, and a dagger appeared in his right hand. He walked on, neither fast nor slow, monitoring his enemies’ every move through the spectral demons.

At last, as Han Shuo reached the midpoint of the alley, all five killers—including Ellis—accelerated, believing the time was ripe.

Suddenly, the whisper of an arrow slicing the air reached Han Shuo’s ears. The shot was deadly, aimed at his back with lethal intent.

This arrow came from the archer, its angle ruthless and cunning. Had Han Shuo not seen the motion clearly through his demon’s eyes, this one strike might have ended him.

His measured pace abruptly changed, not leaping forward but dodging left. The arrow grazed his coat, whistling past.

Ahead, the arrow shattered in midair as razor-sharp wind blades, conjured by Ellis, swept forth—waiting for Han Shuo to instinctively lunge into the trap. But Han Shuo, forewarned, avoided them.

At the same moment, a wall of fire blazed to life above him, crashing down. Two agile figures, swords in hand, leapt from the rooftops, their blue and green battle energy glinting in the firelight—Han Shuo saw them clearly.

Accelerating suddenly, Han Shuo darted left, evading Ellis’s wind blades and racing toward the alley’s exit. The fire wall crashed down where he’d just stood, sending sparks flying.

His enemies could not imagine that Han Shuo had tracked their every move through his spectral demons. What they thought a flawless ambush failed entirely, all five attackers missing their mark in the first assault.

“We cannot let him leave this alley alive!” Ellis’s once-soft voice turned sharp and shrill.

The archer and the fire mage, perched atop buildings on either side, moved in unison at Ellis’s command. The archer drew three arrows, nocked and loosed them in a single motion—one aimed at Han Shuo’s head, one at his back, one at his thigh.

Another wall of fire sprang up before Han Shuo, cutting off his escape and forcing him to change course lest he be incinerated.

The two swordsmen who had landed now closed in, swords drawn, just ten meters away. Ellis, gliding above the ground, raced forward as well, intent on trapping Han Shuo.

Sidestepping, Han Shuo changed direction again, circling right in hopes of bypassing the fire wall and escaping the alley. Wind blades screamed toward him, as expected. With swift flicks of his dagger, Han Shuo slashed away five, but three others sliced into his thigh and arm.

Only because he knew of the wind blades in advance did he survive with just three wounds—had all struck vital points, he would never have taken another step.

Ignoring his injuries, Han Shuo burst past the wind blades, dodged the fire and arrows, and shot toward the alley’s mouth, eluding the second wave of attacks and nearly escaping.

Just then, a shrill scream ripped through the night. Han Shuo, running, saw through his demon’s eyes that the archer’s bow had snapped in two, blood trickling from his lips as he fell from the rooftop. Where he’d stood, Phoebe now stood tall, sword in hand, formidable and unyielding.

“Phoebe—you’re a swordmaster!” Ellis, forgetting to disguise his voice, cried out in shock. Without a word to his companions, he abruptly stopped, spun around, and fled at full speed.

Phoebe snorted coldly but made no move to pursue—she knew well that a wind mage fleeing at full strength was nearly impossible to catch. Instead, she raised her sword and, standing proudly atop the roof, leapt lightly down toward the two warriors, intent on dealing with the remaining foes.

At this moment, Han Shuo, almost at the alley’s end, saw Phoebe appear and, delighted, turned back, summoning his little skeleton and advancing on the two warriors.

Before, Han Shuo had focused solely on escape, and the little skeleton could not have helped much. Now, with Phoebe the swordmaster on his side, he transformed from prey to hunter—and the little skeleton could join the fight.

With bone knife in hand, the little skeleton sprinted forward at Han Shuo’s command. Its seven bone spines flared as it leapt to the rooftop, aiming to slay the fire mage.

Startled, the fire mage never imagined the little skeleton could leap so high. In panic, he hastily chanted, conjuring another blazing wall of fire to block the skeleton’s path.

But the little skeleton ignored the flames, charging straight through. Emerging scorched from the fire, it startled the mage, who could only watch as the bone knife flashed, stabbing him again and again until he was left riddled like a beehive.