SQUELCH!

The instant it pierced the back of his neck.

The terrifying kinetic energy accumulated in the sword’s blade, not yet fully spent, was like a flood crest held back by a dam for far too long. In that moment, it found its ultimate release!

BOOM!

A dull yet heart-stopping explosion erupted in the narrow confines of the corridor!

It wasn’t the dazzling spectacle of a magical explosion, but the raw, colossal sound of pure force crushing matter—of flesh and bone unable to withstand the pressure and instantaneously disintegrating.

The Shadow Hunter’s hooded head burst apart on the spot!

His headless torso, carried by the immense residual force, was flung backward like a broken doll, once again slamming hard against the wall that had just been struck by the Flying Sword’s thunderous impact.

CRACK!

The distinct sound of a spine snapping echoed through the air.

The headless body, bent into a bizarre, almost folded position, slid limply down the wall. It finally crumpled into the filth, its limbs still twitching faintly, but the breath of life was completely gone.

In the air, the thick, suffocating stench of blood instantly overwhelmed the scorched smell, blending into the unique, stomach-churning, metallic tang of death.

Only then did the wave of Dark Energy, which had been split apart by the Flying Sword and was slowly dissipating, finally subside.

The corridor’s visibility returned to a relative clarity, only now it was stained a shocking, visceral crimson.

The Dark Gold Flying Sword that had caused all this traced a graceful arc through the air. It pulsed with dark purple lightning, incinerating the flecks of red and white gore clinging to its tip and blade, and let out a soft yet clear hum.

Once the dark purple lightning had completely receded, the sword returned to its simple, tranquil state, as if the earth-shattering collision and fatal strike had been nothing but an illusion.

It transformed into a streak of light and flew back to Murphy’s side, hovering silently, its brilliance contained, untouched by a single speck of dust.

The entire corridor fell into a dead silence.

The only sounds were the slow ’DRIP... DRIP...’ of blood from the walls and ceiling, and the faint twitching from the Shadow Hunter’s headless corpse—the last of its nerve reflexes.

Annabelle leaned against the wall, her gaze locked on the silent corpse—its neck now just a grotesque, ragged stump—and the splatters of dark red staining the surrounding walls and floor.

Her lips were slightly parted, her breath catching for a moment.

’An Official Wizard... dead just like that?’

’Dead in a corridor of Taymer Palace, and in such a... clean, decisive manner. One could even call it brutally simple.’

It wasn’t that she had never seen death before, whether in the struggles between Wizard Organizations or the purges born from the court’s undercurrents.

But the fall of an Official Wizard was something else entirely.

’And at the hands of the "Peak of Mortality," no less...’

She felt a wave of dizzying disbelief, but quickly forced herself to calm down. She began to rapidly consider the potential repercussions of this incident and the subsequent cover-up and cleanup.

This was her duty as the Lady Chief.

Leia still held her position, shielding Eleanor with her back. Her body was no longer trembling, but it had grown stiff.

She had heard the terrifying sound of the explosion and smelled the sudden, thick scent of iron in the air. She already knew what had happened behind her.

She didn’t turn around. It wasn’t that she didn’t dare, but that she didn’t need to.

Her lord’s victory had been presented to her senses in the most irrefutable way.

What she felt more was a belated sense of awe, mixed with disbelief.

’She had worried, even secretly despaired, over the chasm between mortal power and an Official Wizard. But now, her lord had used that strange Knight’s Sword to savagely cross—no, flatten—that chasm in a way she couldn’t comprehend.’

Eleanor’s little face was indeed a bit pale. Experiencing such a powerful burst of Energy and the accompanying aura of death up close was a shock to her sensitive perceptions.

But there were no tears in her eyes, no panic. There was only a knowing calm, and a sliver of trust that was almost a matter of course after witnessing her father display his absolute power.

It was as if the violent scene before her, while intense, was entirely within the bounds of her understanding that "Father is strong."

She looked at Murphy, her eyes clear and filled with absolute trust.

Murphy’s expression hadn’t wavered in the slightest from beginning to end.

Killing an Official Wizard seemed to be no different to him than brushing dust off his clothes.

He didn’t even spare the corpse a second glance, nor did the blood-soaked air make him so much as twitch an eyebrow.

His attention was already focused entirely on his daughter.

Seeing Eleanor’s pale but still-composed face and the way she looked at him, the sliver of ice in the depths of Murphy’s eyes from slaying his enemy silently melted away.

He turned and walked toward Leia and Eleanor, his steps steady as he crossed the sporadically bloodstained carpet.

"Leia," he said, his voice even.

"My lord," Leia responded at once, turning around reverently.

"Give me Eleanor."

"Yes." Leia carefully handed Eleanor over.

Murphy reached out and took her, his movements steady and gentle.

The moment she was in her father’s arms, Eleanor immediately wrapped her small hands around his neck and rested her face on his shoulder. She took a deep breath, and her tense little body visibly relaxed.

Murphy held his daughter securely with one arm, gently stroking her back with his other hand. "It’s okay now," he murmured.

Then, he lifted his eyes to Annabelle, who had already quickly composed herself. Though her face was still a little pale, her gaze had regained its sharpness.

"Clean this up," Murphy said succinctly. "What happened today does not leave this room."

Annabelle bowed immediately. Her voice was still a bit hoarse, but it was once again composed. "As you command, Lord Governor. I will handle it properly and ensure the information is contained."

Murphy gave a slight nod and, without another word, turned and left with Eleanor in his arms.

The Dark Gold Flying Sword transformed into a streak of light, instantly vanishing into his Dantian Qi Sea.

Resting on her father’s shoulder, Eleanor took one last look at the wreckage and at Annabelle and Leia, who were steeling themselves to carry out their orders. Then, she buried her face completely in the crook of her father’s neck and whispered, "Father, let’s go home."

"Yes, let’s go home," Murphy replied, his steady steps carrying him toward the end of the corridor.