The path of the Soul Emperor

Chapter 24

Screams, blood, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the auction room.

The weak lay dead or barely clinging to life, while the strong watched in silence as the giant wolf unleashed intense green flames across the room.

Ava leaped back, transforming into her human form.

New clothes materialized on her as she cradled the little boy in her arms, smiling warmly at him.

The boy stood still for a moment before his face lit up with a bright smile.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized it was truly Ava.

She hugged him tightly, but her senses remained on high alert.

She could feel the ominous presence of a figure seated in one of the booths, unmoving.

In One of the Booths

A towering, broad-shouldered man with a powerful presence sat in the shadows of a luxurious private booth, his piercing crimson-red eyes glinting like molten rubies as they surveyed the chaos below with an unnerving calm.

His hair, a cascade of golden blonde, gleamed under the faint light, but it did little to soften his sharp, intimidating features.

A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face, starting just below his temple and carving its way past his strong jawline, disappearing beneath the high collar of his finely tailored suit.

Despite the rugged imperfection of the scar, his face was strikingly handsome—a chiseled visage that seemed almost sculpted.

A meticulously groomed beard framed his strong jaw, its dark golden hue complementing the intensity of his gaze.

His appearance was a paradox, exuding both refined elegance and raw menace.

Every movement, every tilt of his head, carried a weight of authority that silenced even the most defiant.

This was Zen, the undisputed ruler of the city.

Though only an outer member of a shadowy, powerful organization, his presence alone was enough to inspire dread.

His reputation as an (SS) ranked powerhouse—a level of strength most could only dream of—preceded him.

Stories of his cruelty and might circulated like whispers in the dark, ensuring that none dared challenge his dominion.

In his booth, Zen leaned back slightly, his posture deceptively relaxed.

One hand rested on the armrest, its fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood, while the other held a glass of dark crimson liquid that glinted like blood in the dim light.

Yet, his calm demeanor belied the storm of power he could unleash at a moment's notice.

Even seated, his aura dominated the room, suffocating and inescapable.

"To fight in my city—how disrespectful," Zen's voice boomed through the auction hall, silencing the remaining chatter.

His words carried the weight of authority, and the gathered nobles hesitated.

Everyone knew of his cruelty and unmatched might.

Ava held the boy tightly, scanning the room.

She noticed that the entire auction hall was now on lockdown, a barrier stretching a kilometer in every direction.

"Do you all dare?" Zen's voice dripped with disdain.

Before Ava could process his words, a massive explosion rocked the hall.

BOOOOOOOMMMM

The devastation spread outward, affecting a 500-meter radius around the auction.

C-rank individuals and below stood no chance of surviving, while only those at B-rank, A-rank, or S-rank had the means to shield themselves.

When the dust cleared, over 120 nobles lay dead. Ava, who had been the target of the blast, was missing an arm.

She had shielded the boy, knocking him unconscious in the process. 'Damn, that was a little overboard,' she thought.

At the epicenter of the destruction, Zen stood surrounded by nobles and their B-rank to S-rank guards. He addressed them with a sneer.

"I don't mind you fighting—but not in my city. Had this been a minor commotion, I might have stopped it and offered a friendly match. But your arrogance blinds you to true power."

An old man stepped forward, exuding an aura of strength unmatched by anyone present.

He raised his hand, and a bag filled with royal gold coins appeared.

"I have no intention of stealing from you. This is my payment for the child. I want him delivered to this location." The old man's calm voice carried authority as a piece of paper floated toward Zen, along with the bag.

A woman appeared, taking the bag before vanishing.

"Thank you, Elder," she said.

Other groups quickly followed suit, offering bags of royal gold coins as apologies.

"Here's 100 royal coins for our rudeness," one representative said.

Unbeknownst to the nobles, Zen had anticipated their greed.

He had orchestrated this chaos to maximize his profit.

While the nobles sent their people to raid the auction's treasures, Zen had already seized them.

Ava's unexpected involvement only added to the spectacle.

Zen's true goal was to rob the nobles blind, and the destruction served as dramatic flair.

As royal coins poured in—100, 50, even 10 at a time—his eyes remained fixed on Ava.

She, weakened and struggling to breathe, realized there was no way out but forward.

She placed 100 royal gold coins on the boy's chest, letting him go as she retreated.

The barrier lifted, and the nobles dispersed.

Zen continued to watch her, a smile curling his lips.

As the area cleared, his men appeared, cleaning up the aftermath.

Zen reveled in his success.

He had amassed treasure, humiliated the nobles, and secured enormous profits.

"If I'm not the richest man alive after this, I wonder who is," he chuckled, satisfied. "Call Bloodsucker. I want him to transport the kid."

The woman from earlier hesitated.

"Are you worried the nobles might retaliate?"

"Yes, but mostly about that woman. Find her as well," Zen ordered.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

Zen turned to leave, giving one final command.

"Make sure the boy is hidden well. Too many eyes are on him."

He had already sensed powerful individuals who hadn't attended the auction.

The woman nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

At the Lotus Guild Headquarters

In the Guild Master's office, the atmosphere was heavy with tension.

The room, lined with bookshelves overflowing with ancient tomes and battle-worn relics, seemed to radiate a quiet authority, much like the man who stood at its center.

He was a commanding figure, his broad shoulders and tall frame exuding strength earned through years of battle.

His jet-black hair was neatly combed back, though a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead, softening his otherwise severe appearance.

His sharp, penetrating eyes, dark as obsidian, locked onto Ava with an intensity that felt almost tangible.

They held both wisdom and the weight of countless decisions, many of which had likely carried life-and-death consequences.

His gaze flicked briefly to her injured arm, which was in the midst of regenerating, glowing faintly as muscle and skin knit themselves back together.

The sight did nothing to alleviate the exasperation etched into his scarred face.

The scars—visible and unapologetic—told the story of a man who had seen the worst of the world and survived.

A long slash ran diagonally across his cheekbone, faintly silvered with age, while smaller, less noticeable marks lined his neck and forearms.

He shook his head slowly, the motion deliberate and heavy with frustration.

His lips, framed by a neatly trimmed beard flecked with streaks of gray, pressed into a thin line before parting to speak.

His voice, deep and gravelly, carried a tone that blended authority with a trace of disappointment.

"Ava," he began, his words measured but firm, "you're an idiot. It's like you threw all planning out the window the moment you saw a chance to charge in."

He crossed his arms, the motion emphasizing the scars on his forearms, and leaned slightly against the edge of his large, ornate desk.

Ava, standing across from him, avoided his gaze, her expression a mixture of guilt and defiance.

Her arm, now almost fully healed, twitched involuntarily as the final layers of skin stretched into place.

She flexed her fingers experimentally, the pain subsiding, though the emotional weight of his words lingered.

"I know," she admitted. "I should have waited, but...

" She paused, her jaw tightening as emotion flickered across her face. "Seeing the helplessness in my little brother's eyes, the sadness on his face—I couldn't just stand there and do nothing."

The Guild Master sighed 

"You let your emotions get the better of you," he said, his tone gentler but still firm. "I understand why you did it, Ava. But now, because of that decision, they'll double the security around the boy. You've made things harder for yourself—and for everyone else."

He gestured toward the room's door, as if the weight of the situation extended far beyond these walls.

"The only chance you have now is during the transfer. And you only know about that because of what you overheard in Zen's telepathic link. Don't waste it."

Ava nodded, her shoulders slightly slumped under the weight of his words.

"Can I stay here until then?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"Fine," he said