CHAPTER 218: TEST SUBJECTS

Morning sunlight poured through the wide windows of the Darlington mansion, glinting off the marble floors and casting a golden shimmer across the hallway. Birds outside chirped in a distant chorus as the estate slowly came alive after the long night of celebration.

Hutton had barely finished his morning meditation when a sharp knock echoed against his door. He opened it to find Rebecca standing there, dressed in a casual cream blouse and a soft pink jacket that framed her delicate features perfectly. Her long auburn hair was tied into a low ponytail, and her lips carried a small but disarming smile.

Beside her stood a boy around seven years old—Clyde, Rebecca’s lively little cousin, the same one who had startled Hutton the day before. The child’s eyes sparkled with mischief and boundless energy.

"Morning, Hutton," Rebecca greeted lightly. "I hope you don’t mind—someone’s been pestering me since sunrise."

"I wasn’t pestering!" Clyde protested, puffing out his cheeks. "You promised we’d go out today!"

Rebecca sighed, clearly losing that argument for the third time that morning. "Yes, yes. I did promise. But now he insists you should come along too."

Hutton blinked, momentarily surprised. "Me?"

Clyde nodded eagerly. "Uncle Hutton’s cool! I wanna go with him!"

Rebecca covered her face with one hand. "You’re not even his nephew, Clyde."

But Hutton couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. "It’s fine. I could use some fresh air anyway."

That was how, less than an hour later, the trio found themselves in the heart of Eastridge City—a vibrant sprawl of modern architecture and glowing advertisements that rose like pillars of light toward the morning sky. Holographic billboards displayed the latest hovercars and tech gadgets, and the hum of life filled the streets—vendors calling out from sleek stalls, the rhythmic thrum of music from passing airbikes, and laughter echoing between steel towers.

Rebecca had opted to take them in her family’s low-profile black sedan, driven by one of the house’s trusted chauffeurs. The ride had been filled with Clyde’s constant chatter—from his trip to Nigeria to his discovery of a talking parrot at the airport—which had Hutton quietly smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks.

When they arrived, Rebecca decided to take them through the Crystal Park District, a long stretch of walkways surrounded by artificial lakes that shimmered in iridescent blues. Street performers danced with kinetic light displays, and cafés with transparent walls were filled with people savoring their day off.

Clyde immediately dragged Hutton toward a nearby ice cream vendor.

"Uncle Hutton! Try the blue one! It’s called Mana Burst—it’s sooo good!"

Rebecca chuckled, watching them. "You know, he doesn’t really have to call you uncle."

Hutton smiled faintly. "It’s fine. I don’t mind." He crouched, handing the vendor a few bills and getting three cups of the glowing dessert. "Here. One for each of us."

"Yay!" Clyde cheered, already running off to chase a flock of pigeons by the water’s edge.

Rebecca and Hutton walked slowly behind him, the city’s bustle surrounding them like a living sea. "You’re surprisingly good with kids," Rebecca remarked.

"Comes from commanding soldiers," he replied quietly, watching Clyde’s laughter reflect on the water. "Half of them acted like reckless children too."

Rebecca laughed softly. "That’s... strangely wholesome, in a military sort of way. But since when were you in the military? You don’t really look like one that went through one"

Hutton’s eyes softened in reminisce. "I suppose. I would say it’s my genes that caused me not to look like one"

"Pfft..." This made Rebecca chuckled quite earnestly.

But for a brief moment, the chaos of Hutton’s life felt distant—no fugitives, no families hunting him, no God Crystal lurking in the shadows. Just the scent of roasted coffee, the shimmer of sunlight, and Rebecca’s smile.

But then... the warmth shifted.

A faint tingle pricked the back of Hutton’s neck. His instincts—honed from the Nascent Soul stage he has already mastered—immediately sharpened. His steps slowed slightly as he subtly glanced toward the reflective glass of a nearby café window.

There. A man in a brown coat, pretending to read a digital newspaper. The same man had appeared near the fountain earlier... and again when they’d crossed the pedestrian skywalk fifteen minutes ago.

Another faint reflection in a parked hovercar across the street—a second man, this one with tinted glasses, talking into a concealed earpiece. Their qi... faint, but definitely cultivated.

His heart rate slowed—not from fear, but from calculation.

’They’re good. Too steady for street thugs... trained. They’re not after the Darlington family.’

He already knew what that meant.

They were after him.

Rebecca noticed the slight tension in his stance. "Hutton?" she asked quietly. "Something wrong?"

He forced a calm smile. "No... just thinking about something."

"Mm." She frowned, unconvinced. "You’ve been ’thinking’ since we left the car. You sure you’re okay?"

"I’m fine," he said gently. Then, more quietly, "Just keep Clyde close to you."

Her brows furrowed, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "Why? What’s happening—"

"Don’t look back," he murmured, his voice low, commanding but calm. "We’re being watched."

Rebecca froze slightly but obeyed, her gaze staying forward. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he replied. "Two at least. Maybe more."

Clyde returned just then, holding a small, sparkling toy drone he had bought from a vendor. "Aunt Rebecca! Uncle Hutton! Look what I got!"

Rebecca instantly forced a bright smile. "That’s wonderful, Clyde!" she said, taking his hand. But her grip was a little tighter than usual.

Hutton’s gaze flicked toward a nearby narrow alleyway that cut between two tall buildings. His eyes hardened.

"We’ll take the back route to the car," he said softly. "Stay close."

Rebecca nodded silently, and together the three of them began to move—casually, as if continuing their stroll, but with purpose in every step.

Behind them, the man in the brown coat lowered his digital paper, subtly pressing a button on his wristband. His lips moved faintly.

"Target confirmed. Moving east with two civilians. Orders?"

A faint crackle came through his earpiece. Then a low, cold voice answered:

"Do not engage in the open. Wait for isolation. We want the fugitive alive."

The trio’s pace quickened as they crossed from the bright plazas of Eastridge into the dim veins of the city’s old commercial district. The buildings here were lower, brick-faced, and shadowed by the high-speed rail lines that stretched overhead like steel serpents. The hum of hovercars grew distant. The air was thicker—quieter.

Hutton subtly adjusted his stride, scanning reflections off every passing glass surface. His senses were sharp now—too sharp. The moment he broke into Nascent Soul, his perception of the world had shifted. Every heartbeat, every flicker of Qi, every faint pulse of energy resonated like an echo in his mind.

’There... four of them.’

No—five.

They were trailing behind at different angles, keeping distance but not subtle enough for him. His lips curved faintly. "Perfect," he muttered under his breath.

Rebecca caught it. "What is?"

"Test subjects," he replied calmly.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

But before she could demand an explanation, he guided her and Clyde toward an alley that led to the city’s underlevel. The alley was narrow, its walls damp with the residue of recycled mist from the pipes overhead. Neon light from a half-broken sign flickered red and blue against the wet ground.

"Stay here," Hutton instructed softly, his tone composed but absolute. "No matter what happens, do not come out."

Rebecca’s brows knitted. "Hutton, what are you—"

"I need to stretch my new strength," he said simply, offering a faint smirk that sent a chill down her spine.

Then, without another word, he stepped out of the alley’s light and into the main path, his silhouette blending with the shadows.

Moments later, two of the pursuers appeared at the far end of the street, whispering into their comms.

"Target isolated. Moving in."

The next sound that followed wasn’t a shout or the discharge of a weapon— It was silence.

A heavy, pressing silence that seemed to weigh down on their lungs.

The men exchanged uneasy glances. "What the hell—"

One of them never finished his sentence.

A flash—so fast the air cracked. His body lifted clean off the ground, slammed against a wall, and crumpled before he could even gasp. The second man spun, firing a short-range stun bolt toward the darkness—only for the projectile to halt mid-air, trembling, before it disintegrated.

From the shadows, Hutton walked forward slowly. His eyes glowed faintly gold—an aura not of brute force, but precision. His Qi pulsed like controlled thunder, silent yet devastating.

"So," he murmured, looking at the men as if studying insects beneath glass. "This is the difference between a Core Formation cultivator... and a Nascent Soul cultivator, huh?"

The remaining four emerged from the rooftops and flanks, drawing sleek plasma-infused blades. Hutton simply turned his head slightly.

"Excellent," he said quietly. "A proper field test, then."

They lunged in unison.

But Hutton didn’t dodge. He simply raised his hand.

The space around him rippled. The air compressed with a sound like thunder inside a jar, and the ground fractured beneath his feet. The incoming attacks froze mid-strike as if the world itself hesitated. Then—

Boom.

The shockwave burst outward in perfect, concentric waves of Qi. The men were thrown back violently, their bodies colliding with the alley walls as arcs of faint golden energy flickered around them. One’s weapon shattered into molten fragments. Another coughed blood, eyes wide in disbelief.

Hutton stepped forward, calm as the dust settled. "Controlled detonation," he muttered to himself, studying his hand. "Too much output. I need finer precision next time."

He moved toward one of the surviving attackers, crouching down as the man gasped for breath. Hutton’s gaze was clinical. "Tell me who sent you."

The man spat blood but stayed silent.

"Fine." Hutton’s fingers twitched slightly—his Qi entered the man’s body. The assailant screamed as faint golden cracks appeared along his veins, his energy pathways being mapped by Hutton’s will alone.

Then Hutton simply released him. The man slumped unconscious.

Rebecca, unable to stay put, had peeked around the corner. What she saw made her pulse skip—five men downed in under a minute, the air still trembling faintly with Hutton’s power. She’d seen strong cultivators before, but this was something else—this was surgical violence, calculated and terrifying.

"Hutton..." she whispered.

He turned slightly, his golden aura fading like dust in the wind. "You can come out now."

Clyde peeked out from behind her leg, eyes wide. "Whoa... Uncle Hutton, you’re like a superhero!"

Hutton gave a faint, ironic smile. "Something like that."

Just then, Rebecca’s phone buzzed sharply in her pocket, breaking the tension. She hurriedly answered. "Hello? ...Robert?"

Her brother’s voice came through—urgent, edged with authority.

"Rebecca, where are you? You and Hutton need to come back immediately. Something’s happened."

Her expression changed. "What do you mean, something?"

"I’ll explain when you get here," Robert said firmly. "Don’t take the main roads. Just come—fast."

The call ended abruptly.

Rebecca looked at Hutton, concern shadowing her features. "We need to go. Now."

Hutton took one last glance at the unconscious pursuers before turning toward the car. "Understood."

He walked beside her, calm but thoughtful. Inside, his Qi still burned like liquid sunlight through his veins. For the first time since awakening... he finally understood the depth of his new stage.

And he couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

So this is Nascent Soul power... interesting.