God Level Farmer In Another World

Chapter 168: A Member of That Organization

The black-robed man glanced mockingly at the dead girl.

She had been soft and delicate, a pity she lacked brains.

If she had been more obedient, more cooperative, he might have spared her, taken her along to enjoy for a few more days, and allowed her to live longer.

This was the end of the world—strength ruled supreme.

Or did she think this was the North Sea City, where someone as stubborn as Ethan Blake maintained order?

Why would Jonathan King have foolishly believed Mr. King would avenge her?

The black-robed man spoke, "I deeply regret the death of your son.

I hope you can pull yourself together and not dwell in grief."

The words sounded pleasant, but his tone was flippant, showing no respect for Mr. King's pain over losing his son.

Mr. King remained kneeling, his head lowered. "Thank you, sir, for your concern."

The black-robed man continued, "We've been pleased with your performance lately. We hope you can maintain it."

Mr. King responded reverently, "Yes! I will do even better!"

The black-robed man stood and paced to Mr. King's side.

"Remember, do not overstep your bounds.

We are not yet prepared to clash with Director Carl.

So, I do not want to see another incident like tonight's."

His tone was a clear and stern warning.

Cold sweat appeared on Mr. King's temples. He had witnessed the methods of these people before.

Still, he gritted his teeth and asked, "So, my son's death means nothing?"

The black-robed man snorted disdainfully, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Do you know the level of the awakened who killed your son?

Those eight dead D-rankers had no visible injuries on their bodies.

That person is likely a B-rank awakened!

Do you think you could handle someone like that?

You should be grateful you didn't act recklessly tonight!

If Director Carl and that young man had teamed up, you wouldn't have even had the chance to hold a funeral for your son!"

Mr. King slowly raised his head, staring in disbelief at the black-robed man.

The youth from the North Sea… a B-rank awakened?

That youth had a close relationship with Director Carl's son and was likely a classmate from their time studying in the North Sea.

A shadow of regret clouded Mr. King's eyes.

He regretted not spending a fortune to send his son to study in the North Sea.

Before the large-scale attacks by monsters on White Mountain City, the city had its own high schools.

The Education Bureau had regulations that prevented local students from studying in other cities.

However, students with North Sea City residency, even from slums, could attend their high schools, while children from high-ranking families in other cities were denied admission.

Transferring schools required navigating numerous connections and hurdles.

Mr. King had once mocked Director Carl for spending a fortune to send his son to study in the North Sea.

Why pretend to be so capable, spending so much money just to send his son away?

Now, Mr. King understood.

Was Director Carl's son merely studying?

No, he was building connections!

The educational resources in the North Sea were undoubtedly better than White Mountain City, but Mr. King had thought, Does it matter where you study? Does it matter where you awaken your abilities?

Even if Jonathan King had awakened a mediocre talent in White Mountain City, wasn't he still the son of a deputy director?

Now, he was filled with deep regret.

If Jonathan King had gone to study in the North Sea, would he also have made connections in other cities? Would he have had talented friends to support him?

The black-robed man chuckled lightly and asked, "I'm curious—how did you figure things out and avoid a conflict?

You had already surrounded the Security Division, hadn't you?"

Mr. King swallowed hard.

"Because I always remember your teachings.

He… he said he was from the North Sea."

As he spoke, Mr. King carefully watched the black-robed man's expression.

As expected, the black-robed man's body trembled slightly, and his composure cracked.

The black-robed man returned to his chair, sat heavily, and muttered, "From the North Sea?

The lack of burn marks on the dead means it probably wasn't him."

Mr. King cautiously asked, "Sir, who is that youth from the North Sea?"

The black-robed man shook his head. "Hard to say."

Mr. King pressed further, "Are there many B-rank awakened in the North Sea?"

He assumed that if the youth was a B-rank, identifying him should be straightforward. After all, White Mountain City had only one B-rank awakened: Director Carl.

The black-robed man shot Mr. King a disdainful glance.

"A frog in a well!"

The black-robed man sneered, then continued,

"In the North Sea, what is a B-rank?

The North Sea is an international metropolis. Who can say how many dragons and serpents are hidden there?

Just within the North Sea's Security Division, there are four B-rank Grand Marshals.

And beyond that, the North Sea is home to cults and..."

The black-robed man trailed off, his expression turning grim.

"I am not certain if that youth is connected to that organization.

If someone from that organization has appeared in White Mountain City, it's truly disastrous."

Each sentence hit like a thunderous bomb, pounding relentlessly on Mr. King's heart.

The allocation of armed forces in every city was classified, managed by the Security Administration, and overseen by the Inspectorate.

Thus, Mr. King had no knowledge of the North Sea City's military strength.

He had assumed the North Sea's Security Division was formidable but never imagined it boasted four B-rank Grand Marshals.

Nor did he expect the North Sea to harbor high-level awakened individuals outside the Security Division's jurisdiction.

From the black-robed man's words, Mr. King deduced the existence of a terrifying organization in the North Sea, one with numerous B-rank members.

Extraordinary forces!

These words echoed in Mr. King's mind, and he couldn't help but sigh inwardly. White Mountain City was indeed a small, insignificant place.

The black-robed man stood, his tension evident.

"Keep a close watch on that youth. If he truly belongs to that organization in the North Sea, you and I are doomed."

With that, the black-robed man hurriedly strode toward the door.

He needed to inform his associates that a possible hunter had arrived in White Mountain City.

Mr. King immediately responded, "Yes, sir! Please rest assured!"

At the same time, a crushing weight pressed on Mr. King's heart.

If that youth's background was truly terrifying, would this grudge remain forever unavenged?

"Damn it!" Mr. King slammed his fist into the ground.

He had many women, but only one son!

"Fine! If I can't touch you, I'll kill the people around you!"

Mr. King and Jonathan King were indeed father and son, sharing the same vengeful nature.

On his hit list now were Director Carl's son, Mark, and James.

As for the Carl family, Mr. King vowed to deal with them sooner or later, but for now, he needed to bide his time.

James, however, seemed to be an ordinary girl from a civilian family—not worth fearing.

According to reports from the amusement park, the conflict in the arena between Jonathan King and Mark had centered on James.

Apparently, Jonathan King had demanded that James serve drinks, and when she refused, he nearly killed her.

Mark had saved James.

Jonathan King had died trying to block her escape but instead fell victim to the young man in the black coat.

"That slut! Pretending to be so pure?!

I might not be able to deal with that kid or Mark, but I can deal with you!

Didn't my son like you? Then you'll accompany him in death!"

Mr. King, consumed by rage with no outlet, directed all his hatred toward James.

Poor James, disguising herself as a woman to evade pursuers.

Yet even in disguise, she had drawn the attention of a power-hungry man.

Just as Mr. King was about to rise and send someone to find James, the door suddenly burst open.

A dark figure flew in like a broken kite, slamming heavily into the bedroom wall.

Mr. King shouted in alarm, "Sir?! What happened?!"

The black-robed man lay on the floor, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his face filled with terror. Trembling, he pointed toward the hallway outside the door.

Mr. King turned to look.

A wave of overwhelming killing intent surged toward him.

A figure wearing the Crying Ghost King mask stood in the doorway, exuding a terrifying aura as he strode inside.

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