From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 388

At the edge of the market, Leander guided Daphne through the throng, moving toward the quieter streets beyond.

The tall Taoist was already heading toward a secluded alley, leaving the crowded market behind.

"Wait, sir!" Leander's voice carried like a thread across the distance.

The tall Taoist paused and slowly turned his head. When his eyes met Leander's, there was little reaction. But when they flicked to Daphne, a hint of something unusual shone in his gaze, a quiet note of approval.

He stopped at the alley's entrance, and Leander led Daphne up to him.

"Why did you call out to me, sir?"

The Taoist held a whisk in his hand, his voice calm and detached, revealing no emotion. His eyes were deep and dark, like twin black holes, impossibly profound.

Daphne immediately sensed his extraordinary presence, but she stayed silent, looking at Leander with curiosity. Why had he called this man over?

At Leander's level, even extraordinary beings were often nothing remarkable. Yet she had noticed a subtle urgency in his tone earlier, as if he feared the Taoist might leave before they could speak.

Leander gave her a small, reassuring smile, releasing her delicate hand, then inclined his head slightly to the Taoist, clasping his own in respect.

"I would like to invite you for a drink. Would you honor me with your company?"

The tall Taoist studied him, a spark lighting his eyes. After a pause, a faint smile appeared, and he nodded decisively. "I have lived a solitary life, wandering beyond worldly affairs. If someone wishes to spend freely to share a drink with me, why would I refuse?"

Leander chuckled, spreading his hands in a carefree gesture. "Then, it's decided—please join us."

The Taoist fell in step behind Leander and Daphne. They chose a small, quaint tavern, the kind that looked like it had stepped out of ancient times, with carved wooden signs and rustic charm.

…

The tavern was nearly empty; their table was the only one occupied.

Leander and the Taoist faced each other, with Daphne seated beside him.

"Hey! A pound of liquor, a pound of stewed beef, and a plate of peanuts!" Breaking from his usual calm, Leander's voice rang out loud and clear across the room.

"Hold on!" The Taoist waved a hand, interrupting him. "The meat and peanuts are fine, but one pound of liquor won't suffice. Sir! Bring ten pounds of liquor, all on this gentleman's tab!"

The owner's face went pale. Their liquor wasn't the strongest in the world, but one pound could easily intoxicate an ordinary person. Ten pounds? Who could possibly handle that?

He looked at Leander, who laughed heartily and nodded. "Take the Taoist at his word—bring the liquor!"

Daphne placed ten bills of a hundred each on the table. The owner, now beaming, took the money and hurried to prepare the order.

After paying, she glanced at the Taoist again, struck by a wave of curiosity.

This was a man who had renounced the world, wielding a whisk, exuding the aura of a transcendent master. How could he drink and eat without a hint of restraint?

The Taoist set the whisk on the table, a gentle smile on his face. He looked at Leander and spoke. "It is a pleasure to be invited for food and drink. But I have one question: Why did you seek me out?"

Leander's eyes lifted, memories stirring within him. A sigh escaped, heavy with emotion.

"Because you once granted me a debt of gratitude that cannot be repaid."

"Oh?" The Taoist's expression shifted slightly, and then he shook his head gently.

"You must have confused me with someone else, sir," the Taoist explained, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I am eighty-five years old, have met countless people, and yet I can say with certainty that I have never met you. How could there be a debt of gratitude owed by you?"

Leander hadn't yet replied when the owner returned, carrying three porcelain bowls and two large jars of liquor.

"Here you go, folks. The beef and peanuts will be out shortly!"

"Ever since that chance meeting, I never imagined I'd see you again in this lifetime. And yet here we are, in Highcliffe's market. You must be a master from Mount Martial. What brings you to Highcliffe?"

The Taoist had been about to pick up some meat, but Leander's question paused him. A subtle light flashed in his eyes, and his voice took on a heavier tone.

"A walk, a drink, and a kill. That's all."

Though he spoke calmly, Daphne sensed a pure, unshakable intent in his words—a killing intent beyond any ordinary grudge or emotion. In that instant, she realized without a doubt that the man before her was a transcendent being, one utterly above the world.

Leander tilted his chin, eyes sharpening. Though he couldn't fully gauge the Taoist's power, the faint aura he exuded was enough for a rough estimate.

This was someone far beyond the Burning Stage of the Transcendent Realm.

Just days ago, he had slain a Burning Stage master from Mount Martial. And now, another unparalleled master from the same sect had appeared in Highcliffe. This was no coincidence.

A dark premonition crept into his heart. Something was very, very wrong.

Leander paused for a moment, then spoke, his voice low and calm. "Sir… could the person you intend to kill be named Jeff Ashcroft?"

The question cut through the tavern like a blade. The Taoist's expression darkened instantly.

His gaze snapped to Leander, radiating a crushing, undeniable pressure. The entire tavern seemed to hold its breath, gripped by a sudden, deadly tension.

"Tell me… Where is he?"

This tall Taoist, of course, was Galen—the Grandmaster summoned by Logan from Mount Martial to Highcliffe, sent to deal with Leander.

Leander pushed the jar aside, a wry, resigned smile tugging at his lips. "Not to hide anything, sir… I am Jeff Ashcroft."

In an instant, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted violently. The calm of moments before vanished, replaced by a storm of shock, awe, and palpable danger.