The dimly lit chamber was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of aged parchment and the faint hum of whispered conversations. It was well past midnight, and the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight danced ominously on the stone walls. Iron Fang, Stone Ox, and Thunder Palm stood in a semicircle around the old man, their expressions stern and focused as they delivered their daily reports.
The old man listened intently, his eyes sharp and calculating, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest of his ornate chair. The room was silent except for the low murmur of their voices and the occasional rustle of paper.
Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps echoed through the chamber, causing the commanders to pause mid-sentence. They turned as one, their eyes narrowing as they waited for the unannounced visitor to reveal themselves. A slender figure emerged from the shadows, her face obscured by the hood of her cloak. She moved with a grace that belied the tension in the room, her steps light and measured.
The girl pushed back her hood, revealing a cascade of dark hair that framed her face. She smiled faintly, her voice calm and composed. "Relax, brother. I made sure no one saw me. It's not possible for anyone to enter the inner area without getting killed by the elite guards."
Thunder Palm's expression darkened. "Even so, you shouldn't be here. You're a spy, just like the others planted among the hostages. What's your reason for coming?"
The girl's smile didn't waver. "I have new information. Something you might find interesting."
The commanders exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. Iron Fang leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with interest. "What information?"
The girl's voice was steady, her tone almost casual. "The Crimson Shadow's squad is planning to escape tomorrow night during the meal distribution."
Stone Ox's eyes widened in surprise. "Interesting."
Thunder Palm's jaw tightened. "Escape? Tomorrow?"
The girl shrugged. "They've been planning it for a while. But they discussed the details tonight."
The old man, who had been silent until now, leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "And what is their plan?"
The girl recounted the plan in detail, her voice calm and measured. She described the layout of their intended route, the timing of their escape, and the strategies they intended to use. The commanders listened intently, their expressions growing more serious with each word.
When she finished, Iron Fang let out a low whistle. "Clever. But risky."
Stone Ox nodded in agreement. "They're underestimating our defenses."
Thunder Palm's face was a mask of cold fury. "This is the boy's doing. The one I told you about. He's been showing great potential."
The old man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "The same boy? Interesting."
Thunder Palm turned to the old man, his voice urgent. "We should get rid of him. Now. Before he causes any more trouble."
Stone Ox and Iron Fang nodded in agreement. "We can't risk him escaping," Stone Ox said. "He's too dangerous."
The old man pondered for a moment, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest of his chair. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm and decisive. "No. We will not make a move against them tonight. If we do, we risk angering Crimson Shadow."
Thunder Palm's face darkened, his voice tight with frustration. "With all due respect, you give Crimson Shadow special treatment, even though he doesn't provide any good results. We do so much for you, yet we are not treated the same way."
Iron Fang and Stone Ox murmured their agreement, their expressions tense and resentful.
The old man dismissed their comments with a wave of his hand. "I have made my decision. No one is to do anything to Crimson Shadow's squad. Tomorrow, when they attempt their escape, you will stop them in the outer area. Have our best of the elite guard stationed there."
Stone Ox's brow furrowed. "And what to do with them? Should we kill them?"
The old man's voice was cold and unyielding. "No. Capture them alive. I have sent him and Viper Fang on an important mission, and if he returns, only to find that all of his squad members have been killed, he won't stay put."
The commanders dismissed the spy girl and ordered her to return to the cages before her fellow squad members found her missing.
Thunder Palm's eyes flashed with anger. "You're giving special treatment even to those who are trying to run away?"
The old man sighed, his voice filled with disappointment. "You may kill the others if you must. All except the boy named Lee. He is not to be harmed. Is that clear?"
The commanders exchanged tense glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and resignation. Finally, they nodded, their jaws set in determination.
"As you command."
The old man nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. Now leave me. I have much to think about."
The commanders bowed stiffly and left the chamber, their footsteps echoing through the silent halls.
The next night, atop the tallest mountain in the area, the old man stood with the three commanders—Iron Fang, Stone Ox, and Thunder Palm—their eyes fixed on the distant figures of Liam and his team as they began their escape.
The commanders' higher cultivation stages allowed them to see far into the distance, their vision unobstructed by the shadows and obstacles that lay between them and their prey.
"There they are," Iron Fang murmured, his voice low and tense. He pointed toward the training grounds, where Liam and his team were making their way through the carefully planned route. "They're moving quickly."
The old man watched intently, his eyes narrowing as he observed the team's coordinated movements. "They're skilled," he commented, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and surprise. "Much more skilled than I expected."
Stone Ox grunted in agreement. "They're young, but they fight like seasoned warriors. Look at how they move together, how they cover each other's weaknesses."
Thunder Palm's expression was grim. "They won't stand a chance against the elite guards. But still, I have got to admit, their technique is impressive."
The old man nodded, his eyes never leaving the distant figures. "Especially the boy… what you said his name was? Lee?. His movements are precise, his technique flawless. He's a natural leader."
They watched as Liam and his team fought their way through the middle area, their weapons flashing in the moonlight as they cut down the guards with deadly efficiency.
"They're holding their own," Iron Fang commented, his voice filled with grudging respect. "Even against the elite guards."
The old man's eyes widened as Liam activated Iron Skin, his body hardening as he became a whirlwind of destruction, cutting through the guards with brutal efficiency. "Remarkable!" the old man breathed, his voice filled with awe. "That skill… isn't that skin hardening technique?! The boy is a prodigy!"
Thunder Palm's jaw tightened, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and admiration. "He's too dangerous. We should have eliminated him when we had the chance."
Stone Ox shook his head. "It's too late for that now. But we can still stop them. The flute will ensure they don't get far."
The old man nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, the flute. But first, let us watch. I want to see how far they can go, how much they can endure."
The commanders exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing, their attention fixed on the battle unfolding below.
The elite guards fell before them, their bodies crumpling to the ground as the team fought with the skill and precision of warriors far beyond their years.
Finally, as the last of the guards fell, the old man turned to the commanders, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and regret. "They have fought well. But it is time to end this."
Thunder Palm nodded, his hand moving to the flute at his side. He raised it to his lips, his fingers poised over the holes as he prepared to play the haunting melody that would activate the shadow worms within Liam and his team.
"Are you ready?" the old man asked, his voice soft but commanding.
The commanders nodded, their expressions grim. Thunder Palm took a deep breath and began to play, the haunting notes of the flute echoing through the night, carrying on the wind as they descended upon Liam and his team like tendrils of darkness.
Below, Liam and his team crumpled to the ground, their bodies convulsing as they struggled to move, to breathe. The commanders approached, their footsteps heavy and deliberate, their shadows casting a dark and ominous pall over the helpless figures.
The old man watched from the mountain, his expression unreadable as he observed the scene unfolding below. His eyes were fixed on Liam, his mind racing with thoughts of the boy's potential, of the future that lay before him—a future that the old man intended to shape to his own design.
"Huhu! That boy will become my new host! It is finally time for me to get rid of this dying body!"