Adam entered the slums, adopting the guise of a mysterious defector from the clergy. Despite his aversion to the stench of the place, he willed himself to ignore his senses.
Though Adam had ventured out countless times under the cover of night, always unscathed, the reality was that if discovered, the consequences would be dire.
Carefully sidestepping the muddy patches in the street, Adam paused, his eyes scanning a nearby alley.
A towering figure emerged from the shadowed alley, standing over two meters tall—a veritable giant. His dark brown fur and blood-red eyes locked onto Adam.
He stood at the mouth of the alley, one hand braced against the wall, the snarling wolf head of his form conveying a curious intent.
"Are you... Nesser Riggs?"
Adam's pupils contracted, but rather than retreating, he advanced, taking a step forward and responding with a calm, unshaken tone, "Werewolf Gold?"
"Hahaha!" The shadows behind the werewolf seemed to writhe and churn, as thick black smoke billowed forth. He laughed heartily, clearly amused. "Loya has sent such an intriguing person my way."
"And so?" Adam remained unfazed, or at least pretended to be. The name Nesser Riggs had only been spoken in the presence of Adele and his companions since Adam had arrived in Loya.
Among those invited by Adele, one person had declined—Gold, most likely the very individual before him now.
It appeared his suspicion had been correct, yet the black smoke trailing the man seemed oddly familiar.
"Is this the werewolf you encountered in Mansra?" Adam, struggling to suppress the restlessness in his bloodline and the creeping fear, stood resolutely, watching the figure before him.
He was acutely aware that, in terms of raw strength, he was no match for the werewolf before him. It was better to feign confidence, to present an unyielding front, in hopes of gaining the man's cautious respect.
"How is it that, despite changing my route, you still manage to block my way?" Adam wondered aloud. He had taken great care to alter his previous path to Adele's house, even going so far as to erase his scent.
"And we're still some distance from Adele's home, nowhere near a location requiring vigilance," Adam reflected. His plan had been to take an alternate route to Adele's house, then, once within a sensitive zone, observe for a while before deciding whether to proceed.
But he had not expected to be intercepted here.
"I've heard you have a ritual that perfectly conceals aberrant traits?" Gold chuckled as he visibly shrank in size. He tugged at his clothing, tightening it around his body.
Grabbing his cheek, he moved closer to Adam, still towering over him by a head, despite having shifted back from his werewolf form.
"Can you offer it to me?"
"That depends on what you are willing to offer in return." Adam maintained his composure, then turned toward Adele's house and began walking away. "If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave."
"There will be opportunities in the future, hehehahaha," Gold nodded and grinned again, watching Adam's retreating figure without pursuing him. As his laughter faded, his expression turned inscrutable.
"You shouldn't have changed routes. That would have made your disguise more successful. Your lack of understanding of extraordinary powers, coupled with your own insufficient strength—these are your flaws," Gold thought quietly to himself as he turned to enter the alley, unlocking the door and collapsing onto his familiar armchair.
"And you're overthinking it."
"Did he really not see through my disguise, or was he merely cautious, choosing not to act for other reasons?" Adam mused, his brow furrowed as his mood soured further.
"I must swiftly develop my own strength and enhance my understanding of extraordinary powers. Otherwise, I will only become more passive," Adam resolved, his determination hardening as he set his sights on Adele's home once more.
It was precisely because of the incident with Gold that he felt an even greater need to gain control over those people.
"Though they are all outcasts, those who survive in Loya are not to be underestimated," Adam reflected. Loya, a city under the dominion of the Holy Sound Nation, was home to numerous cultivators and stationed troops. The outcasts who survived here were far from simple.
"Once the group of outcasts under Nesser Riggs' leadership is fully formed, I might be able to approach them under Adam's identity—or even fabricate another identity to integrate as a regular member and learn from them."
"From them, I could quickly address my own shortcomings," Adam thought, silently calculating the possibilities. He then set these thoughts aside, allowing his emotions to take over.
At Adele's house, Adele, wearing a shabby coat and binding his hair with a simple cloth, retrieved an oil lamp from the cellar—one he rarely used—and luxuriously lit it in the evening.
The modest wooden house was now filled with a variety of people.
Earlier in the afternoon, Adele had awoken shortly after Adam left. Though he had suffered some burns, the mud had helped, and the wounds were healing, with little chance of scarring.
He dared not delay. Quickly, he and the other four outcasts discussed matters, and the others went to invite more outcasts.
Gathering such a large group of outcasts in Loya was almost unheard of. Even if someone extended an invitation, most outcasts would hesitate to attend.
It was simply too dangerous—one careless move and a single outcast could alert the clergy, and they would be rounded up in an instant.
Yet now, they had no choice but to come.
The witch doctor, Hoda, had been captured and reduced to ashes. Without his potions, they lacked the means to conceal their peculiarities. Within a day or two, the clergy would send their cultivators to check, and they would all be exposed.
Thus, when they heard that a new method of concealing their anomalies had been found, they could not afford to stay away.
The steady rhythm of footsteps heralded Adam's arrival, and at the moment the door opened, the five outcasts stood in unison, bowing respectfully.
"Mr. Riggs!"
The expressions of the others in the room shifted immediately, their previously carefree gazes retracting, and they lowered their heads slightly.
"Mm." Adam nodded casually, unperturbed, and walked into the room, settling into a chair.
"Coming here ahead of schedule was the right move," Adam thought with a faint smile, feeling a small measure of relief.
People were inherently inclined to follow the crowd. Had he adhered to his original plan and relied solely on Adele to maintain control, the others might not have been so inclined to submit to him.
Now, with five individuals, the atmosphere was vastly different.
"These are cautious individuals. With five of them now under my sway, none will dare to stand out," Adam surveyed the room, taking in the tense atmosphere.
The capture of the witch doctor had already filtered out those who were reckless, leaving only the more careful ones behind.
As Adam's gaze swept over the room, the outcasts grew visibly nervous, striving to present themselves more formally.
"By now, you've all heard of the Tears of the Gods ritual," Adam said in a gravelly voice. "If you do what I ask, you will each have the opportunity to partake in it."
"If you have any questions, feel free to voice them," Adam continued, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Rest assured, what I ask of you will not be too difficult."
There were eleven individuals in total, each with their distinct features. Five had concealed their faces, their attire betraying no sign of their slum origins.
The others, however, remained unmasked, their appearances unmistakably linked to the slums.
This worked to Adam's advantage. The differences in their identities made it easier to manipulate and control them.
"Mr. Riggs, what is your objective?" one of the concealed outcasts asked, then quickly added, "A general direction will suffice; knowing what we're working toward will ease our minds."
Adam could not afford to reveal his true motives—namely, to exploit the noble smuggling channels and escape to the Loken Kingdom.
Instead, Adam kept his gravelly tone but subtly altered it, as if an unshakable obsession lingered in his words: "I seek to verify something at the border between our two nations."
"A matter of faith."