Chapter 254: Saving Ian.

Another day had come for the Zyra search team to drag their feet to another territory. They had run out of money completely, yet they were not even halfway through the search for Zyra. To make matters worse, after all this effort, they had absolutely nothing to show for it, not even a scrap of Zyra’s clothes or a single reliable clue.

Job sat on the edge of a creaky wooden bed, staring down at his palm. He counted the few low-grade energy stones left in his pouch, his face darker than the bottom of an old cooking pot. He looked up at Sheila Blue.

"Sheila," Job grunted, swallowing his pride. "Where should we search next? We’ve already flipped Aurora Dominion and the Iron Vale Confederacy upside down. All our connections have yielded nothing. We can’t remain here any longer."

Sheila scoffed, leaning against the damp wall with her arms crossed over her chest. She rolled her eyes so hard they almost flipped back into her head. "Oh? Now you need my advice? When you had plenty of stones and resources, you treated my words like fart in the wind! Now that your pockets are as clean as a washed bowl, you suddenly remember I have a brain?"

Job sneered, his mouth twitching. Unable to refute her, he spun around and glared at Ian. "Ian! You’re her twin brother!" Job barked. "Use your twin telepathy or whatever secret bloodline connection you have and locate your sister right now!"

Ian closed his eyes, pretending to concentrate deeply. After a few seconds, he opened one eye and shrugged. "I can’t feel her. Nothing." He was lying through his teeth. Twin telepathy!? He didn’t even know if such a thing actually existed in this world, but he certainly wasn’t going to help Job track down Zyra.

Fungus shivered in the chilly draft, pulling his ragged coat tightly around his scrawny body. He looked at Job and grumbled, "Job, why don’t you just write to the mayor and ask for more funds? Everyone knew from the start that finding Zyra would eat money like a giant beast!" He pinched his lips together, spotted a fat cockroach scurrying across the floor, and smashed it under his boot with a wet crunch. "Look at us!" Fungus groaned, wiping his shoe on the floorboards. "We can’t even afford a decent hotel anymore! Eight grown people squished into one tiny, smelly motel room like pickled fish! I can’t live like this anymore; I would rather go back to dungeon raiding."

Job snapped, "Ask the mayor? Are you insane? The mayor is still furious about the deaths of Ocean and Garon! We haven’t brought him a single useful result, and you want me to ask for more stones? We have to manage with what we have!"

Ian let out a long, heavy sigh. "Are we really going to keep sleeping in places that smell like moldy cabbage?"

Job glared at him, his veins popping on his forehead. This boy’s constant complaining was truly testing the limits of his patience.

"I’ve had enough," Ian suddenly said. He stood up, grabbed his small travel bag from the corner, and began marching straight toward the door. "I’m going to myrtle city--to my home."

"Where do you think you’re going?!" Job roared.

In two steps, Job caught up, reached out a heavy hand, and grabbed Ian roughly by the collar, dragging him backward while spouting a colorful stream of curses. "You ungrateful little brat! You think you can just leave whenever you want?!"

Before Job could slap him, the motel door was kicked open, nearly flying off its rusty hinges.

Four towering men in sleek, dark suits stepped into the tiny room. The sheer pressure of their martial aura hit the room like a heavy mountain, instantly suffocating the room’s air. They weren’t ordinary_ they were bodyguards.

"Let the boy go," a sharp, imposing voice commanded from the hallway.

The bodyguards parted, and an older man walked in, leaning lightly on a polished wooden cane. He wore a rich fur coat, trimmed with gold thread, and the luxurious fragrance of rare lavender-incense filled the damp room, instantly overriding the smell of Fungus’s boots.

Job stumbled back a step, gripping his sword hilt. "Who the hell are you?!"

The old man took off his black sunglasses, revealing sharp, cold eyes. "I am Frederick Grey-drake."

Grey-drake? Job’s mind raced. The surname rang a massive bell in his head_ the mega-wealthy Grey-drake Merchant family from the Zenith Republic!

Frederick didn’t even glance at Job. He turned his gaze toward Ian, his stern expression softening just a fraction. "Ian. The arrangements for your marriage to my daughter, Isabelle, have been finalized."

Job’s jaw dropped. He blinked, looking back and forth between Ian and the rich old man, completely baffled. Marriage? Isabelle Grey-Drake? Since when did this kid pull a high-family lady from the sky?! How long had Ian been plotting this!?

Frederick continued calmly, "The dowry of one million high-grade energy stones has already been deposited into your account."

ONE MILLION HIGH-GRADE STONES?! Job’s mouth hit the floor so hard it nearly cracked the tiles. He hastily wiped a strand of drool from his chin, his brain exploding with greed. One million high-grade stones was enough to buy a small village! Ian had just hit the absolute jackpot by becoming in-laws with the mighty Grey Drake family!

Job squeezed out a greasy smile and stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, Master Grey Drake! What a wonderful misunderstanding! As the head of the family, I_"

"Quiet," Frederick interrupted coldly, lifting a hand. He looked at Job like he was looking at a patch of mud on his shoe. "Let me make one thing crystal clear. You are not invited to the wedding. In fact, our family wants nothing to do with you or the rest of your branch of the Scorpion family. We are here strictly for Ian."

Ian raised his head high, adjusting his collar with newfound dignity. He gave Job a cold look, picked up his bag, and walked over to stand behind Frederick.

"Let’s go," Frederick said, turning on his heel and walking out, surrounded by his imposing bodyguards.

Job stood frozen in the middle of the smelly room, watching his nephew leave. "Tsk!" He hissed softly through his teeth, his face turning red with frustration. "That bitch Zena must have arranged this long ago and told no one." He knew deep down that if his sister had done so, he would have sent one of his sons for the marriage, not Ian.

He looked back at the remaining pitiful team members—Sheila looking amused, Fungus still trying to scrape the roach off his boot and the rest of them. Job squeezed his fists until his knuckles popped.

If it weren’t for the fact that he needed to find Zyra to secure his own daughter’s future, he would have abandoned this useless, broke squad a long time ago! Now, he did have to call the mayor and listen unwillingly as another man insulted his dignity.