Chapter 218: ·Under the Surface, Blood in the Shadows
A distorted outline flickered into existence in the air. A Wood Elf clad in the standard Forest Ranger uniform stumbled into view, both hands clamped over his throat as blood gushed wildly through his fingers. His face remained expressionless, yet a rasping, leaking sound escaped from his throat. He convulsed twice, then collapsed stiffly forward, lifeless.
“Lurking in the shadows, is that part of your traditions as well, Grand Elder?” Nolan sheathed his sword and stood at ease. At the tip of the blade, a bead of blood slid down slowly.
The sudden flash of bloodshed froze the entire Hall of Tree Shepherds. For centuries, the Wood Elves had not witnessed such direct violence and killing at the very heart of Forest Home.
“Protect the elders!”
The Stag Guards reacted with a shout, but the surreal scene before them left them completely disoriented. Instinctively, they raised their spears and aimed them at Nolan, yet their gazes drifted uncontrollably toward the expressionless Elder Sind and the other elders.
What exactly was happening?
This human had killed one of their own… but what was this ranger doing, hidden with “Forest Concealment”?
And why was Elder Sind saying nothing?
The four Spring Wardens of the Flourishing Leaves family closest to Nolan found themselves in an even more difficult position. Their weapons wavered in their hands, uncertain whether to obey their matriarch’s orders or avenge their fallen “companion.”
Ailindel lifted her hand. The knight’s lance named Breeze instantly formed in her grasp, while her long dress shifted and reformed into the armor of Purity. With a heavy thud, she planted the spear into the ground. A powerful surge of wind pressure erupted outward from her, forcing everyone nearby to stagger back several steps and clearing an open space around Nolan.
Nolan paid no attention to the weapons aimed at him. He walked over to the still-warm corpse, flipped it over with the tip of his foot, then flicked lightly.
A strangely shaped dagger slipped from the dead man’s hand, flipping into the air before Nolan caught it smoothly in a reverse grip.
“Hmm… the Blade of Dusk. That’s a high-end piece.”
He toyed with the dagger, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. The hilt was made of crystal, and the blade itself was nearly transparent. Under the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, it was almost invisible; only its edges appeared as drifting, twisting strands of black smoke.
“A standard weapon of the Rus Empire’s official assassination organization, Undercurrent. These are never circulated outside.” Nolan’s gaze swept across every Wood Elf present. “Which makes this rather strange. How did an isolated place like Forest Home get its hands on something so… dirty?”
“Mother! What is going on?”
Finley could no longer hold back. Though he pointed his greatbow at Nolan, the overwhelming sense of dissonance within him made it impossible to draw the string. He looked at his mother, the woman who had raised him to protect their people and uphold their traditions. At this moment, she seemed like a stranger.
Elder Sind remained silent, staring blankly at Nolan, her eyes hollow.
The other elders, even the hot-tempered Elder Ironwood, instinctively edged away from her. Even a fool could see something was wrong.
“It’s no use.”
Nolan’s voice broke the eerie silence.
He gestured with his chin toward an elder standing at the very back of the crowd, a figure who had spoken almost nothing and whose presence had been nearly negligible.
“The current Elder Sind is probably nothing more than an empty shell. You should be asking that elder who looks like he’s from the Schefflera family.”
“What? Ailuo?” Elder Ironwood spun around in shock, staring at the Schefflera elder in the rear.
The previously silent elder finally spoke, his voice low and steady, without a trace of panic at being singled out. “Ironwood, you fool! Look at his blade. The one he killed was a Wood Elf, one of our own who lived among us day and night. How simple-minded do you have to be to let an outsider toy with you like this?”
Nolan rolled his eyes. “Still acting? Haven’t had enough yet? A Wood Elf? I doubt it.”
He crouched down and used the tip of Mountain’s Resonance to pull open the corpse’s collar.
At a spot beneath the shoulder blade, a faint mark was revealed. It was so subtle it would have gone unnoticed without close inspection. The symbol was abstract, composed of two parallel wavy lines.
“This mark represents a special type of assassin within the Undercurrent organization. They call them ‘Faceless.’” Nolan stood up. “They’re rare anomalies, born with Silver-tier strength, but incapable of understanding the concept of ‘self.’ They are living dead, loyal unto death. Their most remarkable ability isn’t combat. It’s the complete theft of another person’s identity—appearance, build, voice, everything.”
He looked around at the stunned Wood Elves.
“This isn’t imitation. It’s total replacement. Their only flaw is that they cannot suppress the unique breathing sounds caused by their altered physiology, along with the magical mark used to ensure their absolute loyalty.” He pointed at the symbol. “The Undercurrent sigil.”
Nolan’s gaze finally settled on the Schefflera elder’s face.
“Shall I continue, impostor?”
“Well now, what a pity.”
The authority and anger vanished instantly from the “Schefflera elder’s” face, replaced by a relaxed, almost amused smile. He even exaggeratedly slapped his forehead.
“I thought I could keep it going a bit longer. How boring.”
He shrugged and spread his hands, like a clumsy actor who had just botched his performance.
“Even Wood Elf beauties aren’t enough for you? That little one named Romina seemed quite expectant. Humans really are greedy. To be honest, this is the first time this method has failed me.”
That admission was as good as confessing that he was the mastermind.
“Trying to sow discord? How crude.” Nolan curled his lip in disdain.
“You bastard!” Elder Ironwood, already hot-tempered, exploded with rage. His eyes burned red as he roared. “Who are you? What have you done to the real Elder Ailuo? And Sind—what did you do to her?!” He surged forward.
“Careful! Don’t get close to him!” Nolan immediately warned. “He’s not the Schefflera elder at all.”
“Heh heh heh…”
The impostor let out a low, rolling chuckle as he looked around at the Stag Guards who had surrounded him. There was not the slightest trace of tension or fear in his eyes. Instead, those eyes fixed on Nolan with keen interest, completely ignoring everyone else.
He did not resemble a conspirator who had been exposed. Rather, he looked like a child who had just found an intriguing toy, now replaying the game in his mind.
“How strange.” Tilting his head, he wore an expression of pure curiosity. “I was very careful. I even deliberately matched the breathing pattern of that old Schefflera fellow. So where did I slip up?”