The temperature in the room suddenly fell, and everyone could notice the palpable tension as beads of sweat started to form on their foreheads. Who could blame them? If a fight were to break out between these two, no one could stop them. Although the outcome was almost certain, that didn’t mean bystanders wouldn’t be swept up in the carnage that would follow. As the two monsters stared at each other, refusing to back down, the bystanders slowly stepped back, afraid to get involved.

“Old man, you’re well aware that killing in Ironspire is against the law,” Lysander remarked, his voice bristling with fury. “And as the custodian, it’s my duty to uphold the law.”

Out of nowhere, Jareth burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the room as all eyes turned toward him. “It appears you haven’t changed, brat,” the old man managed between chuckles, struggling to compose himself. “You’re still a hypocrite.”

“You!” Lysander roared with anger, his patience finally exhausted. As wrath took control of him, he unleashed his aura, which blazed violently in the room. At that moment, the custodian's power seemed unstoppable; the children were knocked to the floor, unable to withstand the full brunt of such force. Even Humphrey, with his high cultivation level, struggled to defend himself and was forced to release his own aura to bolster his defenses.

“Your time is up. You should have retired long ago!” Lysander continued, his voice cutting through the crackling energy. “Do you think I’ll let you do whatever you want, you old fool? I won’t let you walk over me. I won’t! I’m the ruler of this place.”

Jareth remained unperturbed, his smile unwavering; in fact, it seemed to widen as if the display of terrifying power meant nothing to him. “Tsk, you’re as pretentious as ever. Do you know why I never accepted you as my student?” His smile suddenly transformed into something more menacing. “Because you’re weak.”

Lysander’s terrifying aura abruptly halted its rampage, his expression frozen in shock. Slowly, it began to retract, as if being compressed by an unseen force. “What did you do?!” he screamed, spittle flying in all directions. Despite his lingering fury, an unmistakable fear crept into his eyes, reminding him of the chilling truth behind why this old man was feared; why they likened him to death itself, and why people called him ‘Scythe.’ It’s not because he uses it as his weapon; it’s because he was the weapon—the weapon death used to reap the soul of men.

Though extremely powerful, this wasn’t what made the old man lethal. It was his imperceptible power. Throughout their brief clash, Jareth still appeared to be the same old, frail man as he had always been. The noble couldn’t sense the old man’s aura at all, while Lysander’s domain was being crushed like an insect.

“You… you think I’ll just cower here, like those men?” the custodian growled, refusing to be ruled by fear. As he willed himself to move forward, his body betrayed him. There was a disconnect between mind and body; while his mind remained defiant, his body succumbed to instinct—its survival. His aura dissolved into the ether, much like a crumpled paper cup. Without the domain to protect himself, the noble’s body slumped to the floor.

Lysander panted from exhaustion, but his eyes never wavered. “You think you can get away from this, old man!” he exclaimed, fury seething in his gaze. “Despite your power, you’re just one man. The full might of Ironspire will crush you.”

“Delusional, brat,” Jareth responded, howling with laughter. “Who do you think you are, the baron? Besides, why would I bother fighting them? I can simply kill you, right?” he stated, grinning as a thin red line appeared on the noble’s neck, followed by a stream of crimson blood.

Upon seeing this, Humphrey's eyes widened as he hurriedly moved forward, kneeling in front of the old man and pleading. “Master, we are deeply sorry for the disrespect. You already know Lysander’s temper; please forgive us…”

“Fool! What the hell are you doing…”

“Shut up!” Humphrey snapped, his voice reverberating in the room. “I’m fed up with your reckless behavior without thinking of the consequences,” he said through gritted teeth, struggling to rein in his anger. “Master, please consider showing some leniency…”

“Okay, okay. Tsk, stop it already,” Jareth muttered, dismissing his domain. He sauntered over to the nearest chair, letting himself collapse into it without a care in the world. A grin suddenly crossed his lips, and he muttered, “I’m really getting tired of these games.” He sighed, groaning as he stretched his arms in an exaggerated manner, until his gaze fell upon the two boys still shuddering on the floor.

“What are you two doing there?” the old man asked innocently, gesturing for them to stand up. “It’s dirty.”

As if controlled by a puppeteer, the two boys slowly stood up, struggling to regain their composure. After that terrifying incident, all they could do was stare at the floor, trying not to cry. Who could blame them? They had just endured a harrowing experience in a small, enclosed room. Both of them knew they could have died there. Not to mention, they were just kids who hadn’t even taken their first step into cultivation.

Stolen novel; please report.

When Lysander saw this, he could only shake his head. Knowing the old man, he was sure he was just treating this as entertainment to pass the time out of boredom. He couldn’t believe that he had let himself lose control just like that. Jareth could’ve easily killed him if Humphrey hadn’t stepped forward and pleaded for his life. Lysander was certain he wouldn’t even blink as if he had just stepped on an annoying insect. Glancing at his friend, he mouthed a ‘thank you’. Humphrey nodded and helped the noble to his feet.

Jareth shifted his attention back to the custodian, sighing in disappointment. “You really haven’t changed, brat! Tsk, you’re already old, yet you’re still as hotheaded as you were as a child,” he exclaimed, staring at the noble, who only looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. “When will you learn?”

“Old man, why are you reprimanding me?” Lysander asked, snorting as he stared back at Jareth. “You should look at yourself first before you try to lecture other people,” he stated, scowling. “You can’t just come to my city and kill people. I know I’m not the baron, but my brother appointed me as custodian of Ironspire. It’s my duty to protect the citizens of this city.”

“Protect? Brat, you can spout that nonsense at anyone but me,” Jareth remarked, snorting as he shook his head in disbelief. “The person you wanted to protect is a member of one of the most dangerous organizations in Ironspire. They have killed and terrorized the citizens of your city. And here you are, talking about ‘protecting the citizens.’ Tsk, you are truly shameless. Perhaps what you really mean is protecting your own wallet.”

“You dare accuse me of corruption, you old drunkard! So what if I profited from my partnership with those criminals? I never pocketed any coins from my dealings with them. I’ve used it all for Ironspire; I even used my own money to keep this city afloat! I’m telling you now, I will gladly shake hands with an archdemon if it means saving this city,” the custodian shouted as his anger surged once again. “If you want to blame someone, blame that useless student of yours! He knows full well his responsibilities here, but he wouldn’t listen. No one can stop him in his wars, even if he bankrupts the city!”

“I never said he wasn’t an idiot. Both of you are. That’s why you share the same blood,” Jareth responded, chuckling as he drank from his wineskin. “Ah, that was good,” he muttered, grinning widely before glancing back at the noble. “Also, I did not kill that thug.”

“But you said…”

“Tsk, I said, ‘What if I killed that man’,” Jareth pointed out, raising a brow. “I never claimed I killed him. There is a difference.”

“You! You…” Lysander was left speechless as he pointed a finger at the grinning old man, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Are you telling the truth, Master?” Humphrey asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would I even lie about something like that, brat?” Jareth retorted, scoffing at the accusation. “Are you implying I’m afraid of that weak organization?” he asked, a dangerous grin suddenly spreading across his face as he stared Humphrey straight in the eye. “If I wanted to, I could simply go and have a nice conversation with their leader and all their top executives. Once I’m done with them, their heads will be quite amenable, don’t you think?”

Humphrey swallowed hard, nodding in agreement.

Jareth sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking another swig from his wineskin. “However, I won’t do that. Do you know why?” he mused aloud. “Because I don’t care about them. Why would I bother with insects and their fights?” he added, snorting at the idea. “I’ve had my fill of dealing with such nonsense. It’s better to waste my time drinking and sleeping. Although, if you offer the right compensation, I might consider it.”

Lysander scoffed at the suggestion; hiring the old man for anything would require a mountain of gold, which he did not have. “If you’re not involved, then who killed that man?”

“How would I know? Like I mentioned, I’m not interested in this matter,” Jareth retorted, shrugging. “And even if I did, why would I tell you for free?” he asked, smiling at the noble.

“Old man, there’s a killer on the loose,” Lysander responded, scowling at Jareth’s nonchalant attitude. “He has already taken many lives. If we don’t stop him, more will die.”

“Are you deaf, brat? I already told you, it’s none of my business,” he muttered, smirking at the custodian’s argument. “Also, I’ve already heard the news. It appears this was a personal vendetta, with someone seeking revenge. The murder wiped out the entire Crimson Talon. Well, almost.”

“What do you mean?” Lysander asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, it seems two members of the Crimson Talon are still alive,” Jareth answered, grinning. “Brat, I know why you are here. Are you suspecting your nephew to be the one who killed those insects?” he asked, chuckling at the absurd idea. Then he suddenly glanced at Humphrey, his expression growing serious. “Are you an idiot? You’re suspecting a ten-year-old boy just because he beat me in some nonsense game?”

“How did you…” Humphrey started to ask before he stopped himself, knowing the obvious answer.

Jareth smirked before he continued, “The two survivors are the ones the boy fought in the pub. If your suspicion is true that these murders were retaliation by your nephew, then why are those two still alive?” He paused, raising his brow. “Shouldn’t he kill those two first, especially the one with a severed arm? If I remember correctly, he was the one who insulted Elysian…”

“Where are they now?!” Lysander interjected, eager to know their location so he could apprehend them before anyone else.

“Huh, why would I tell you?” Jareth retorted, snorting at the noble’s question, clearly disinterested in providing an answer. “Find them yourselves, brat!” he continued, taking another swig from his wineskin. Turning to the servant, he smiled and asked, “Can you get me something to eat? I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Ugh, you!” Lysander exclaimed, visibly frustrated by the old man’s dismissive attitude, as he swiftly exited the room, followed by his head of security.

“It seems the pests are gone,” Jareth muttered, chuckling as the winked at the two children. Taking another sip from his wineskin, he turned to Bran again. “Where is my food?”