Chapter 186 Overwhelming Powerful

The jungle was unusually quiet.

Seven men walked through the dense forest, following a narrow path that had barely been used by anyone in recent months.

The tall trees blocked most of the grey-black sky above them, while the thick vegetation made it difficult to see very far ahead.

The men moved carefully, occasionally checking their surroundings as they continued deeper into the southern wilderness.

“Why would Lord Elwood Whitmore send us all the way here?”

The question came from a young man walking near the middle of the group.

He had short brown hair, a thin face, and a pair of sharp eyes that constantly moved between the trees.

He adjusted the leather strap of the weapon hanging from his waist before continuing.

“We lost some shipments, but it wasn’t that much.”

A man walking beside him snorted. “That’s not the problem.”

He had a scar running from the corner of his left eye down toward his cheek, giving his otherwise ordinary face a threatening appearance.

He was the oldest among them and seemed to be the leader of the group.

“It’s not that we lost some goods.” The scar-faced man looked ahead. “It’s that if word gets out about what we’re doing, we’re all fucked.”

The younger man became silent. Everyone in the group understood what he meant.

Their business wasn’t something they could openly talk about. They were involved in the illegal slave trade.

People were kidnapped from isolated villages, border settlements, and territories where there was little protection from the authorities.

The captives were then transported through secret routes before being sold to wealthy buyers. The practice was strictly forbidden throughout the kingdom.

Slavery had been outlawed generations ago, and anyone caught participating in the trade could face execution.

The law was especially harsh toward those who organized the trafficking.

If they were caught and proven guilty, the guillotine would be waiting for them.

That was why everything had to remain hidden.

They used false identities, bribed officials, changed routes frequently, and never allowed outsiders to learn the location of their main operations.

Yet somehow, several shipments had disappeared and more importantly, some of the slaves they had transported were missing.

One of the men at the back frowned. “It still doesn’t make sense.”

He was a large man with broad shoulders and a shaved head, and his right hand remained close to the handle of his axe.

“If the people guarding those shipments were attacked, they should all have died.” He looked toward the scar-faced leader.”There’s no way they could have survived.”

The scar-faced man had thought the same thing. The people involved in their operation weren’t weak.

They had experienced guards protecting the caravans, and the routes were carefully selected to avoid settlements.

If someone had attacked them, there should have been corpses but there had been almost nothing.

“We’re here to find out.” The scar-faced man finally spoke.

His expression darkened. “If they’re dead, we’ll confirm it.”

“And if they’re not?”

The scar-faced man looked toward him. “Then we’ll find out who saved them.”

The group continued walking. The sounds of insects and distant birds filled the silence.

For several minutes, nothing unusual happened. Then one of the men suddenly stopped.

The others immediately noticed.

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

The man didn’t answer.

His eyes moved slowly across the surrounding forest.

He looked toward the trees behind them, then toward the dense vegetation on their left.

His hand slowly moved toward his sword.

“I…” He frowned. “I feel like someone is watching us.”

The scar-faced leader immediately turned toward him. “Are you sure?”

The man nodded. “Yes.”

The atmosphere changed instantly and the men drew their weapons.

Steel came out of its sheath with several sharp sounds as the group quickly formed a circle, placing their backs against one another.

The scar-faced man stood in the center of the formation. “Keep your eyes open.”

The forest became completely silent. Not even the sound of insects could be heard anymore.

The young man swallowed nervously. “Where are they?”

Nobody answered and a branch suddenly snapped.

Everyone turned toward the sound. A dark figure burst from the trees.

“Enemy!”

The first Soul Guardian moved faster than any of them could react. Its sword flashed through the air.

One of the men barely raised his weapon before the blade struck his arm.

Blood sprayed across the ground.

“AAAGH!”

The man staggered backward, clutching his wounded arm. “What the hell?!”

Another Soul Guardian emerged from the vegetation and within seconds, the forest seemed to come alive.

Soul Guardians rushed from every direction, their bodies moving through the trees with terrifying coordination.

The seven men were immediately overwhelmed.

“Stay together!” The scar-faced leader shouted. “Don’t let them surround us!”

The men fought desperately, swinging their swords and axes at the approaching Soul Guardians.

One of them managed to strike a Guardian in the chest. The blade stuck through the undead body with a dull sound.

The Soul Guardian barely reacted. It simply stepped forward and swung its sword.

The man’s eyes widened.

He tried to move but it was too late. The blade struck his thigh and cut deeply into the flesh.

He fell to one knee. “AAAGH!”

Another Guardian rushed toward him.

The man raised his weapon desperately, but the undead warrior knocked it aside before cutting across his other leg.

He collapsed onto the ground. “Don’t kill them!”

The scar-faced leader shouted. The command came from instinct.

If these creatures were protecting whoever controlled them, killing them wouldn’t solve anything.

Unfortunately, the Soul Guardians didn’t need to kill them. They only needed to remove their ability to fight.

One of the traffickers swung his axe at a Guardian. The undead warrior stepped aside with unnatural precision.

Its sword immediately struck the man’s wrist. The axe fell into the dirt.

Before the man could react, another blow struck his other arm.

He collapsed onto his back, screaming.

“What’s happening?!”

“We can’t fight them!” The scar-faced leader gritted his teeth.

He had fought monsters before.

He had fought adventurers and even survived encounters with powerful Nightmares.

But these creatures were different.

Every time one of the men attempted to attack, another Guardian was already moving to intercept him.

Every time they tried to retreat, another Guardian appeared behind them.

The formation collapsed within moments.

“Run!” One of the men shouted. He turned and tried to escape into the forest.

A Soul Guardian appeared directly in his path.

The man swung his sword wildly and the Guardian blocked the strike.

A second blade struck his knee and he fell forward.

Before he could stand again, another Guardian cut his arm.

His weapon dropped to the ground.

The man screamed. “Please!”

There was no response. The Soul Guardians continued their assault.

The battle quickly became less of a fight and more of a one-sided execution without death.

One by one, the traffickers were disarmed.

Their legs were cut and arms were injured.

Weapons were knocked away. The Soul Guardians deliberately avoided killing them.

They left each man alive but incapable of fighting and within several minutes, the forest became quiet again.

The seven men lay scattered across the ground.

Some were clutching their arms while others were holding their legs.

Blood stained the dirt beneath them. None of them could stand.

The scar-faced leader remained on one knee, his breathing heavy as he pressed one hand against the wound in his side.

His weapon lay several metres away.

He stared at the Soul Guardians surrounding them. “What… are you?”

There was fear in his voice.

The Guardians remained silent as they simply stood there, their weapons pointed downward.

The scar-faced man suddenly heard footsteps. He looked toward the direction of the sound.

A young boy stepped out of the forest. He didn’t look particularly threatening.

His clothes were clean, his expression calm, and there wasn’t a single trace of blood on him.

Beside him walked a middle-aged man.

The scar-faced leader’s eyes widened slightly. The boy stopped several metres away.

He looked over the seven injured men before glancing at the Soul Guardians.

Everything had happened exactly as he expected.

Edgar smiled. “Good work.”

The Soul Guardians remained motionless.

The scar-faced man’s breathing became heavier.

He looked at Edgar and then at the middle-aged man beside him.

Then back toward the undead warriors surrounding them. It finally clicked.

The young man standing in front of them was the one controlling them.

Edgar took another step forward.

He looked down at the injured men.

“Gentlemen.” His voice was surprisingly calm. “I believe we need to talk.”

The scar-faced man clenched his teeth.

He wanted to reach for his weapon but his body refused to cooperate.

The pain from his injuries spread through his limbs, reminding him that the fight had already been decided.

Edgar stopped in front of them.

His smile remained gentle.

“Don’t worry.” He glanced toward the Soul Guardians. “I didn’t let them kill you.”

The scar-faced man’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

Edgar smiled slightly.

“Because I have questions.”

The forest remained silent.

The seven men exchanged nervous glances. They were the ones who had walked into a trap.

Edgar looked toward the scar-faced leader.

“Now…” He folded his arms. “Let’s talk about Lord Elwood Whitmore.”