Hudson had appreciated the old man's kindness earlier, but that didn't give him the right to interfere now. These thugs had come to kill him, and anyone who tried to stop him from punishing them was stepping over the line.
Off to the side, Ivory was fuming. She regretted stepping in to help.
She marched up to Hudson, her eyes blazing. "Seriously? We just saved you, and this is how you thank us?"
Hudson responded calmly, "Did I ask you to save me?" Hudson chuckled, spreading his hands. "Exactly. You got involved on your own. Don't act like I owe you something."
Ivory clenched her jaw. "I was handling them earlier, now I'm handling you."
She had never been this frustrated. She'd dealt with jerks before, but Hudson? He was on another level entirely.
Hudson didn't flinch. "They came here to kill me. I didn't kill them—I just crippled them. That's already more mercy than they deserve."
He wasn't in the mood to argue.
"That's twisted logic," Ivory snapped. "Sure, what you do is your business, but once we're involved, we don't just walk away. We saw what happened—we're part of this now."
Hudson met her glare without flinching. But instead of arguing, he turned toward another gangster, ready to finish what he started.
Seeing this, Ivory stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, thinking if she took him down first, maybe she could get through to him.
But before her hand could make contact, something flashed in the air—cold, sharp, fast.
Ivory froze. She instinctively closed her eyes as a chilling breeze brushed across her neck. Two seconds passed. No pain. She opened her eyes slowly.
Hudson was already standing several feet away, next to another thug.
Ivory swallowed hard. Her throat tingled. She touched her neck and found a faint trace of blood.
The cut was shallow—just the skin.
But the message was clear: If Hudson had wanted to kill her, he would've.
A scream cut through the air. Another thug writhed on the ground, his tendon freshly severed.
"Grandpa…" Ivory called, desperate now. Only he could stop this.
But the old man, who had been silently watching, simply shook his head. He'd already given up the idea of stopping Hudson. The look in Hudson's eyes earlier had made it clear—crossing him was dangerous.
Arlo felt a shock run through his chest. At first, he thought he and his granddaughter had saved a helpless young man.
Now, he realized Hudson had never needed their help.
He looked barely twenty, but his strength was off the charts. He'd already stepped into the advanced stages of internal cultivation, perhaps even beyond that.
Was he a Grandmaster? Arlo couldn't tell. But if Hudson wasn't one yet, he was close.
Where did someone like this come from?' Arlo thought.
There'd been no rumors, no signs. Just a terrifyingly strong young man, standing calmly in front of him.
Without further interference, Hudson finished dealing with the gang. Then he turned to the bald thug, his voice cold and measured.
"I don't want Enzo to hear a word about this. You know what to do."
The bald man, pale and trembling, nodded quickly and limped away, dragging his wounded men with him.
Hudson picked up his backpack, ready to find a quieter place to rest. But just as he turned, a voice called out.
"Wait, young man—please!"
Arlo hurried over, bowing slightly with sincere humility. "I was out of line earlier. I didn't recognize who I was dealing with. Please, accept my apology and come to the Lewis residence for coffee."
He wasn't just trying to be polite.
Someone like Hudson, with that much power at such a young age, had to come from a powerful background. The Lewis family couldn't afford to offend someone like him—and if they could build a connection with him, it might even save them from the trouble they were currently facing.
Arlo didn't care about pride. If it meant protecting his family—or even elevating it—he'd bow, apologize, or even kneel.
"What?" Ivory stood frozen in place.
Did Grandpa really just lower his head to a guy who looks barely older than me?
She swallowed hard, confusion and disbelief flickering in her eyes. She knew exactly who her grandfather was—his status, his strength. And yet, here he was, bowing slightly, showing clear respect to this scruffy, indifferent young man.
Earlier, she'd thought Hudson might be a decent martial artist—probably just a level above her, maybe at the Dark Energy stage. But judging by her grandpa's reaction, he wasn't just a little stronger—he was far beyond that. He had to be at least at the Transformation stage.
Same age. Same generation. But miles apart in strength.
What do they say again? It's worse than being dead to see someone your age already at the top? Ivory felt a wave of frustration and self-doubt hit her.
Hudson glanced at Arlo, who was being unusually respectful. At least the old man knew when to back down. Hudson waved him off casually.
"No big deal. Just a reminder—when you're running out of time, it's better to enjoy what's left instead of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. That can get you killed."
Arlo flinched, like he'd been struck. His eyes widened as he looked at Hudson in shock.
Hudson's words weren't random. He'd clearly seen through something… something personal.
Arlo clenched his fists. How could he possibly know I'm dying? No one outside the family knows that.
"Wait!" Ivory suddenly snapped back to reality. She rushed to Hudson and grabbed his sleeve, her voice trembling.
"What did you just say? My grandfather... is dying?"
Hudson gave her a strange look. "Isn't he?"
Then he noticed her expression—pure panic and disbelief—and turned to Arlo.
"You didn't tell her?"
"Ivory…" Arlo stepped forward with a tired look in his eyes. "He's right. I've been keeping it from you. Your father and uncle know, but I didn't want to worry you."
"No... No, that's not true." Ivory shook her head, her eyes welling up. "You're fine, Grandpa. You're still strong. You're lying to me, right?"
Her voice broke as she clutched his arm, tears now streaming down her cheeks.
"Ivory," he said gently, "I've been injured for years—you know that. I only pushed through for the sake of the family. I've been hanging on, hoping to last another year or two. But after last month's fight… the internal damage flared up. I can't hold it back anymore."
Ivory broke down completely. The strong, proud girl collapsed into her grandfather's arms, sobbing like a child.
Hudson stood quietly for a moment, then turned to leave. He'd said his piece. But just a few steps later, Ivory called out again. Her voice was hoarse from crying.
"Wait!" she said, chasing after him. "Can you save him?"
Hudson paused.
Before he could answer, she dropped to her knees in front of him.
"Please," she begged. "If you can see what's wrong with him, maybe you can fix it. I don't care what it takes—just save him."
She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy but full of desperation.
"If you can save my grandfather... I'll do anything. I'll owe you for life."
Hudson raised an eyebrow. Another one promising their life for a favor? Seriously?