From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 490

The moment the Blood Demon blew apart, Leander caught a flick of spiritual pressure sliding through the air. It reminded him of the time Fergus dropped dead and the Supreme Arbiter pushed a Spirit Avatar across the sky to check in. This one hit harder—older, colder, and heavy enough to bend the night around it.

Sparks scattered over the ridge like dying embers. A blood-red pinprick flickered in the center of the smoke. It pulsed twice, stretched, and morphed into a thin, hazy silhouette.

A middle-aged man stepped out of the mist like a nightmare with a pulse. His whole body dripped with a blood-colored haze, eyes burning with a kind of authority that crushed everything around him. The mountain felt smaller with him standing there.

Christopher, Jimmy, and Celia looked like their souls got yanked out. None of them moved.

Leander locked his stare on the phantom. It wasn't flesh or even a clean projection. The thing resembled a spiritual broadcast powerful enough to flatten an army. The Blood Demon suddenly felt like a bad joke in comparison.

The phantom pinned Leander with a glare. "You're the one who tore apart my blood disciple?"

Leander kept his posture, and his eyes settled back to a calm state. "Yeah. That was me."

The man's voice rolled through the hill like thunder. "Impressive nerve. My blood disciple, wiped out by some kid who doesn't know his place."

The Blood Demon Art he created worked like a dirty deal. Every cultivator grew stronger fast, although a slice of their power always funneled back to him. The Blood Demon had been the only one he planted into the everyday world, and years of collected Bloodsea energy had fed directly into his cultivation.

He had counted on the Blood Demon to carve out a foothold for him in the human world. Losing that investment stripped years off his plans. Creating another blood disciple would take decades, maybe longer. The setback slammed into him like a steel bat to the ribs. No wonder rage poured out of him.

"So what? Even if your real body stood right here, the result wouldn't change." Leander stayed calm, almost bored. The man across from him carried power heavy enough to make the air tighten, his spirit dense enough to shape a full projection. The pressure didn't stir a trace of fear in him.

The figure before him was only a Spirit Avatar. His heartbeat wouldn't jump even if the man's true body appeared in the flesh.

A grin cut across the man's face like a blade. "Run your mouth while you can. I'll return to the human world soon enough. Your essence blood will feed my spirit."

Leander lifted his hand, palm hovering over the Spirit Avatar. "Feel free. I'll be waiting. The name you're looking for is Jeff Ashcroft."

His fingers tightened. The projection splintered, scattering into floating shards of light.

A final echo rumbled across Swallow Hill before silence sealed the scene.

Leander didn't shift his expression. His mind looped around the man's last words.

Return to the human world?

Someone with a presence like that had to sit in the King Phase or higher. Even the Supreme Arbiter's Spirit Avatar inside Fergus felt like a candle next to a floodlight. A monster of that tier could hold down an entire country. So why is he talking like he isn't even on the same planet as the rest of us?

Human world... what does that even mean? Where exactly is he sitting right now?

Christopher and Jimmy finally drifted over, still trembling.

"General Ashcroft... what exactly was that thing?" Jimmy's voice cracked.

Leander felt a certainty in his gut. He's still alive.

Someone like that doesn't die quietly. The moment I stir the pond, the ancient monsters start swimming up. Figures.

Celia walked toward him, steps slow and sure. She lowered her hands in respect. "Congratulations on the win, Sovereign Ashcroft."

She straightened, eyes steady. "The Blood Demon's done, although you should hear this. Netherweb shelters not only Heaven-tier killers like him and the Hermit. It keeps King Phase monsters tucked in the dark."

Leander didn't blink.

Of course they did. Netherweb held the crown of the assassin world for centuries, matching the Arbitration Office blow for blow. No one kept that position without a King Phase master watching from the shadows.

He studied Celia's face. "You already earned your life with the intel you gave me. Why warn me again?"

Her expression didn't waver. "Because I want something in return—protection. If Netherweb sends cleaners after me, I need you to stop them."

Failure inside Netherweb always led to death. No rank offered protection, not even for someone at Celia's Slayer-tier.

Leander let out a dry chuckle. "You're lucky I didn't drop you tonight. Now you want me guarding you like some personal enforcer? You truly believe I'd sign off on that?"

Celia dropped to her knees midair, spine straight and unshaking. "I'm not asking for a guard. I'm offering myself. If you keep those assassins from my throat, my life and death belong to you from this moment on."