Chapter 218
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
Chapter 218: Tao Wu
Platinum Zone, Demon Hunt Agency
The rain poured endlessly, cascading down the streets with a relentless force. The city seemed to be drowning in its sorrow, and the people had long ceased to wonder when it might stop. Whispers of impending floods haunted the lower neighborhoods, a terror as real as the storm itself.
Inside the Demon Hunt Agency, the atmosphere was tense. The agency had dispatched many of its Night Watchers to counter the Black Star Faction’s calculated assault. It was a strategy as old as it was noble: protect the people, even at the cost of weakening their stronghold.
For that was the role of the Night Watcher—a guardian who braves the darkness, lantern in hand.
Outside the agency, a gaunt figure in black stood motionless. His soaked silhouette bore the weight of the storm, his presence as silent as the falling rain. After a long moment, he moved forward, his steps purposeful and unyielding.
Tao Wu approached the iron gates of the Demon Hunt Agency, his momentum unstoppable.
The gates—fortified steel meant to withstand the strongest of assaults—bent and shattered before him, crumpling like paper. Tao Wu continued forward without pause, leaving behind a perfect, humanoid hole in the mangled metal.
He entered the courtyard, his gaze fixed on the glass doors ahead. Each step was deliberate, an unspoken declaration of his power.
Inside, the agency’s surveillance systems caught his approach. The infamous name spread quickly among those present: Tao Wu, the strongest traitor in the history of Candlelight School, one of Heart City’s major factions. Once the chief disciple of the school’s leader, he had become their greatest shame.
Tao Wu was deaf and mute but wielded a terrifying strength. His ability to read lips allowed him to grasp conversations without uttering a word. His silence, coupled with his unmatched power, earned him the moniker “Silent Beast.”
As Tao Wu stepped into the agency’s first-floor hall, the glass doors slid open. Inside stood a lone figure, waiting.
“The main entrance guard is me,” the man in white declared calmly. His voice carried a quiet confidence. “My strength is equivalent to 100 ordinary Night Watchers.”
He was Raven Reaper, Mo, clad in a pristine white suit and a raven-shaped bronze mask. Mo, known for his exceptional combat prowess, gazed at Tao Wu with a steady resolve.
The two adversaries stood in stark contrast. Tao Wu, the silent mountain, and Mo, the wind ready to strike.
“Why did you join the Black Star Faction?” Mo asked, his voice firm. “You were not a criminal, were you?”
Tao Wu did not answer. His eyes, steady as stone, met Mo’s gaze, revealing nothing but calm determination. Communication was futile; his silence was absolute.
Mo moved first, becoming a blur as he launched into his attack. His speed was unparalleled, the hall echoing with the explosive sound of his blows.
But Tao Wu did not flinch. He stood like a fortress, unyielding and immovable.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The hall resonated with the clash of fists against an unbreakable defense. For a minute, Mo delivered a flurry of strikes, each faster and fiercer than the last.
Then, it stopped.
Mo stepped back, his hands trembling, blood dripping from his battered knuckles.
“Is this what it means to
master ‘Heavy Rock’ and
‘Diamond Flow of the Heart?’”
Mo muttered, his voice tinged
with exhaustion. “You are as
unyielding as a true
diamond…”
Finally, Tao Wu moved.
His fist, seemingly frail, swung
forward with a force that felt
like the weight of the Earth
itself. The air around him
trembled, his strike aimed with
the precision of a master.
Mo attempted to counter,
using every ounce of his
strength and skill. But Tao
Wu’s blow shattered his
defenses, sending him
crashing to the ground.
As Mo’s consciousness faded
, he realized the gap between
them. Tao Wu was no ordinary
man—he was a walking
calamity, the embodiment of
unshakable strength.
The elevator descended
silently. Tao Wu stood alone,
his destination clear: the
seventh underground floor,
where the Demon Hunt
Agency’s most critical secret
lay.
But as the elevator doors
opened, he was greeted not by
silence but by resistance.
First Underground Floor
Dozens of Night Watchers
surrounded the elevator,
weapons drawn. Among them
stood Adelaide, Lin Bian, and
Holly.
Tao Wu stepped out, his
stance unchanged. His dark
eyes swept across the room,
calculating.
Adelaide struck first, her
lightning-and-frost spear
thrusting forward. Tao Wu
caught it with ease, his grip
unyielding. With a single push,
he forced her to her knees.
Holly followed with her own
attack, her fists a blur of raw
power. Tao Wu met her strike,
restraining her with a single
hand. Despite her strength, she
could not break free.
Lin Bian and the others
attacked in unison, their magic
and weaponry filling the air
with light and sound. The room
trembled under the onslaught,
but Tao Wu remained.
One by one, the Night
Watchers fell. Adelaide’s
weapon shattered. Holly was
thrown against a wall, her body
crumpling as she lost
consciousness.
Tao Wu stood amidst the
chaos, unscathed.
Lin Bian stepped forward, a
grim smile on his face. “This is
it,” he muttered. “If I die, I’ll
make sure you die too.”
Seventh Underground Floor
A lone figure stood before a
gray door, the final defense of
the Demon Hunt Agency.
Mr. Trap, the elderly director,
held an ancient, rusted jar in
his hands—King Solomon’s
Magic Jar, a Civilization-level
Relic capable of unimaginable
power.
The elevator opened, revealing
not Tao Wu but a mass of
deep blue slime.
Mr. Trap narrowed his eyes as
the Fusion Slime crawled
forward, its gurgling sound
oddly cheerful.
“…Friend or foe?” he
murmured, tightening his grip
on the relic.
The silence stretched, the
storm above echoing far
below.