Chapter 157: A Fool's Vengeance
The news of Mokers's disappearance landed with the weight of a lead brick. To everyone present, the Bangboos were not mere tools or companions; they were family, as indispensable as a limb.
Without a moment's hesitation, the entire group spontaneously formed a search party.
While Wildfire Town wasn't particularly large, finding a single, small Bangboo who might be deliberately hidden was no simple task. They split up, fanning out to scour the streets and question locals. Fifteen minutes bled away with no clues, and a knot of anxiety began to tighten in their chests.
It was the ever-careful Wise who found the first thread. In a secluded corner near the edge of town, amidst a heap of discarded machine parts, he spotted a shifty-eyed hooligan constantly glancing over his shoulder.
The moment the man saw Wise approaching, a flash of pure panic crossed his face. He spun on his heel, ready to bolt.
But his speed was a joke compared to Wise, a man honed by countless battles. With a single, fluid lunge, Wise closed the distance, his hand clamping firmly onto the hooligan's shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" Wise's voice was calm, yet it carried an obvious pressure that pinned the man in place.
"N-nothing! I was just… just wandering around!" the hooligan stammered, his eyes darting about like trapped birds.
The commotion immediately drew the attention of the others. Caesar and Lyte were the first to arrive, their presence instantly boxing the man in.
Lyte said nothing. He simply took a step forward, his gaze—the same gaze that had stared down countless opponents in the arena—fixing coldly on the hooligan. The sheer force of his presence, a evident wave of oppressive power, was enough to shatter the man's flimsy psychological defenses.
"Don't… don't hit me! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!" The hooligan's legs trembled so violently he could barely stand. He shakily confessed the truth. "It… it was a captain from the Triumphant, boss! He's the one who kidnapped that Bangboo, Mokers!"
"His reason?" Caesar asked, his voice a low growl, his brows furrowed in a dangerous line.
"That boss… he said that Bangboo smashed up their place… and that the Sons of Calydon have to… have to personally come and apologize. Only then… only then will he let him go…"
The hooligan's voice dwindled to a pathetic whisper. His hand trembled as he offered up a slip of paper scrawled with a set of coordinates.
This was a blatant provocation. The demand for an apology was a transparent excuse; the true purpose was to spring a trap. They intended to use this as an opportunity to suppress the Sons of Calydon's burgeoning reputation, and perhaps even ambush the rescuers to deliver a harsh warning.
Wise immediately relayed the interrogation results to Lucy, who had just rushed over upon hearing the news. The moment she heard, her temper flared. "This is outrageous! They kidnap Mokers and still have the gall to be so arrogant? Do they really think the Sons of Calydon are a bunch of pushovers?!"
She was a woman of decisive action. Waving a hand at her three personal Bangboos, she commanded, "Ah-Cao! Ah-Mu! Ah-Zhuan! Grab your weapons! We're going into the Hollow to rescue Mokers!"
Wise quickly pulled out his phone and tapped out a short message to Ling, briefly explaining the situation and telling her not to worry.
Afterward, he made a calculated decision. Instead of entering the Hollow himself, he called Ies over to fulfill the duties of a Proxy. He had no desire to expose his full strength so early in the game, especially when his side already possessed more than enough combat power. Keeping a few trump cards hidden was always the wiser play.
The rescue team moved out, entering the Hollow without delay. Ies immediately sprinted to the front of the formation, his senses scanning the path ahead, providing early warnings and charting the fastest route. Guided by Wise's steady voice, relayed through Ies, the team expertly handled around several unnecessary spatial rifts.
Perhaps fueled by their urgency to rescue their friend, the ordinary low-level Ethereals they encountered posed no obstacle. Most were dispatched by one of Lyte's powerful fists the moment they appeared, crumpling into dust before they could even mount an attack.
Soon, the group arrived at the location marked on the slip of paper.
A crowd had already gathered, a rough assembly of twenty to thirty individuals. Most wore clothing emblazoned with the Triumphant's emblem and brandished a variety of weapons, their stances aggressive.
At their head stood a tall, dog-hybrid with black-and-white fur, dressed in the uniform of a Triumphant captain. When he saw Lucy and her group emerge, he was clearly taken aback. The sheer size and imposing nature of her backup was obviously not what he had anticipated.
Still, he stuck to his script. Leaping forward with a theatrical flourish, he pointed an accusatory finger at Lucy and shouted, "Lucy of the Sons of Calydon, you've finally arrived! What, you need to bring this many 'subordinates' just to rescue one little Bangboo?"
He deliberately raised his voice, trying to mask his momentary hesitation. "It's a pity for you, though. It looks like we still have more people!"
Lucy's eyes narrowed, carefully observing the dog-hybrid captain. The more she looked, the deeper her frown became.
She stepped forward, fearlessly retorting, "Are you really with the Triumphant? I've never seen a captain like you before. And you don't even know who these people are?" She gestured to Caesar, Lyte, and the others standing behind her. "As I recall, the Triumphant's newly recruited captains aren't quite so lacking in discernment. Who are you, really? What do you hope to gain by impersonating them?"
Lucy's questioning was sharp and forceful. While she had been genuinely furious at first, the sight of Mokers—unharmed, if annoyed—and the realization that the enemy leader didn't even recognize the core members of the Sons of Calydon immediately tripped her internal alarms. Her anger cooled into suspicion, and she began probing for information.
Beside the dog-hybrid captain, one of his minions clearly recognized Caesar and the others. The man's face instantly turned a pasty white.
Before Lucy could even finish speaking, he scrambled close to his captain and whispered urgently, "B-Boss! This is bad! It's not just Lucy who came!"
"That's Caesar, the leader of the Sons of Calydon, right behind her! And that man is the undefeated arena champion, Lyte! These are all core members! We can't afford to provoke them!"
The dog-hybrid captain, a man named Hark, shot his subordinate a look of disbelief. Thinking the man was just trying to boost the enemy's morale, he sent him sprawling with a kick. "What's there to be afraid of?! It's even better that their boss came! We can just take them all out in one go and avenge Big Brother Pompey!"
He then turned to glare at Lucy and began his grand self-introduction, his tone dripping with self-righteous conviction. "It's normal that you don't know me! I am Hark! I joined the Triumphant out of admiration for Big Brother Pompey's deeds!"
"All the other captains said you were the ones who killed Big Brother Pompey! I'm here today to get justice for him!"
Lucy was left utterly speechless. The man in front of her was all muscle, but it seemed his brain hadn't gotten the memo.
"Wait a minute!" she tried to explain, holding up a hand. "Your 'Big Brother Pompey' isn't dead! He's recuperating with us right now and will be back on his feet in a couple of days! Didn't we send you the videos?"
Hark adopted what he clearly thought was a wise and discerning look. "They all said you killed Big Brother Pompey, so who knows if you're all in on it!" he insisted stubbornly. "If live broadcast footage can be altered, why can't your little videos be faked? You're just trying to stall for time, to drag this out until the Motorcycle Alliance acknowledges you! I won't fall for your tricks! Enough talk! Let's fight!"
The man was simply beyond reason. With a ferocious roar, he gestured for his subordinates to charge.
"Sigh. I knew this guy was unreasonable." Lyte let out a weary breath. He slowly clenched his fists, the sharp crack of his knuckles echoing in the tense air. "Then let's just do things by the rules."
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