God Level Farmer In Another World

Chapter 169: Immortal Elder

Jonathan King Sr. looked at the man wearing the Ghost King mask and then at the figure in the black robe.

Both of them shared one common characteristic: they wore masks.

Jonathan King Sr. swallowed nervously.

Are they from the same organization?

An internal conflict?

Jonathan King Sr. didn't know whether he should help the black-robed man.

Alexander exuded a bone-chilling aura as he stepped into the room, stopping in front of the black-robed man.

The black-robed man's eyes widened in terror, his mouth agape as he panted heavily, like a fish gasping for air.

The Ghost King-masked figure standing before him remained silent, but his very presence exerted immense pressure on the black-robed man.

Sensing the growing tension, Jonathan King Sr. hunched his shoulders, lowered his head, and shuffled cautiously toward the two men.

Forcing a smile, he said, "We're all on the same side. Let's calm down, let's calm down."

The black-robed man turned sharply toward Jonathan King Sr.

"Shut up!"

Alexander cast a cold glance at Jonathan King Sr.

A streak of white flame surged from beneath Jonathan King Sr.'s feet.

In mere moments, one of his legs was burned to ashes, and the fire extinguished.

"Ahhh!"

Jonathan King Sr. screamed in agony, curling into himself like a shrimp. His face turned deathly pale, as though all the blood had drained from it.

The black-robed man scrambled to his knees in front of Alexander.

"President!"

His voice quivered, barely coherent.

Alexander seated himself in a chair, resting his left elbow on the armrest and propping his face against his hand.

He lightly pressed his foot on the black-robed man's head.

"You know me?"

The black-robed man dared not move.

"I've never met you... but I recognize the Ghost King mask!"

Alexander glanced at Jonathan King Sr., lying lifelessly on the bed.

"Revealing extraordinary plants and spreading the guild's name—do you know the consequences?"

Alexander increased the pressure of his foot, forcing the black-robed man's face heavily into the ground.

"What's your alias?"

The black-robed man's body trembled violently.

"We... we..."

Alexander's lips curled into a smile, his gaze icy.

"Unwilling to betray your companions? I admire your loyalty."

He lightly tapped his finger on the chair's armrest. A sinister purple aura began to seep from his fingertips, pulsing rhythmically.

The power of the Soul Fruit, a soul-searching ability.

This black-robed man didn't bear the aura of a Devil Fruit user—he was merely a "zombie" mercenary.

Alexander couldn't use the White Flame to interrogate him.

Although soul-searching would inflict pain on himself, it was the fastest method.

Of course, if the Soul Fruit's power could instill enough fear to make the man speak voluntarily, Alexander could avoid the agony altogether.

Having already conducted two soul searches that night, Alexander wasn't sure if there would be side effects for himself.

The black-robed man, sensing the impending dread, shuddered and instinctively raised his head.

His gaze met Alexander's icy eyes and the strange purple aura.

The president's methods were legendary among the Mercenary Guild.

His face was filled with terror, his lips quivering, yet no words came out.

Alexander spoke coldly.

"I admire your loyalty.

"But I despise rats hiding in the shadows.

"I don't wish to exhaust myself over a group of vermin.

"This is your last chance—tell me your alias, and your death won't be too painful.

"You should know the consequences of defying the guild.

"Trust me, if I interrogate you, you'll beg for death before it's over."

Alexander activated the power of the Soul Fruit.

Every move he made exuded an aura of malice and terror.

To others, this aura was pure fear—like facing an otherworldly specter.

The black-robed man couldn't withstand the pressure. His throat convulsed.

"I... I'll talk!"

Alexander's tapping finger paused, waiting for the man to speak.

The black-robed man took several deep breaths to steady himself. Just as he was about to speak—

His eyes glazed over, and a trickle of blood escaped his lips.

Alexander's brows furrowed as he quickly checked the man's condition.

The black-robed man was already dead.

He turned to Jonathan King Sr., only to find that Jonathan King Sr. had also lost all signs of life.

Alexander's pupils contracted.

Someone had killed them right under his nose.

The lack of signal in White Mountain City, its remoteness from the guild, and other factors all made Alexander realize the gravity of the situation.

Someone intimately familiar with the workings of the Mercenary Guild was orchestrating events from the shadows, manipulating hunters.

And that person was undoubtedly a hunter as well.

Alexander's expression turned dark and foreboding, humiliation surging through his chest.

A sinister smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

"Enjoy playing cat and mouse?

Fine, I'll play along."

Alexander suddenly scanned the room with a sharp gaze.

There were three corpses and one living person in the room.

Yet, there was a fifth unfamiliar spiritual presence.

Murderous intent flickered in Alexander's eyes.

In an instant, the curtains, bed, floor, and sofa ignited in white flames.

The white flames spread rapidly, consuming the room within seconds.

Within a minute, the entire villa was ablaze.

Screams and exclamations erupted from the spirit hall on the first floor.

In White Mountain City, inside a residential building.

A group of more than ten black-robed individuals gathered around an elderly man.

The elder, dressed in a purple robe, wore a Yama mask and had a long beard.

Suddenly, the masked elder's eyes widened, and he spat a mouthful of crimson blood.

The black-robed figures gasped in alarm and rushed to his side.

"Immortal Elder, are you alright?"

"Immortal Elder, what happened to you?"

The Yama-masked elder gasped for air, his face pale with lingering fear.

"Hah—hah—close… it was so close."

One of the black-robed figures offered him a cup of water and asked anxiously, "Immortal Elder, what happened just now? Were you injured?"

The elder pushed the cup aside, his eyes gleaming with relief, and burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! I'm alive! I survived!

Guess who I encountered!"

A black-robed figure exclaimed in shock, "Could it be… Cark Ruffelo?!"

Another swallowed nervously.

"Cark Ruffelo? He's nothing compared to the Immortal Elder!

The Immortal Elder must have encountered a guild master-level expert to have used his abilities to kill Blackbird and Jonathan King Sr.!"

The rest of the black-robed figures stared wide-eyed.

"What? A guild expert?"

"To injure the Immortal Elder like this, it must be an advanced hunter!"

"We… we've been exposed!"

The Yama-masked elder's eyes were filled with manic joy.

"I—I met the President!

I met the President, and I'm still alive!

It's fate!

The heavens have spared my life!"

The black-robed figures were visibly horrified, with some collapsing to the ground, their faces ashen.

"What?! The President is here?!"

"The President found us?!"

"The President came for us?!"

The elder saw their terror and tried to steady their nerves with a cold snort, only to cough up another mouthful of blood.

"Cough, cough. Do you think trash like us is worth the President's personal attention?

Heh, you overestimate yourselves.

The President must have come to White Mountain City on urgent business and discovered us by chance!"

Hearing the elder's nonchalant tone, the black-robed figures calmed down slightly.

One of them asked nervously, "But… the President found us. What should we do now?!"

The elder rolled his eyes at the speaker.

"Why panic?

The fact that the President left the North Sea to come to White Mountain City means he has incredibly important matters to attend to.

Do you think we're more important than whatever brought him here?

His focus isn't on us.

However, killing Blackbird and Jonathan King Sr. in front of the President has undoubtedly angered him.

We need to leave quickly!

Otherwise, we'll die with no burial ground!"

The elder shuddered, recalling the white flames burning on the President's body.

His legs trembled, nearly cramping from fear.

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