Alchemist Reborn: Ruler of the Immortal Legion

9

The morning after the rooftop massacre didn’t bring the usual city bustle. Instead, Arkas City felt like a man holding his breath, waiting for a heart attack.

Han Chen sat on the edge of his bed in the Grand Imperial, his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping; he was watching. His consciousness, now bolstered by the Foundation-Forging core, had expanded into a thousand invisible threads, snaking through the hotel’s ventilation, down the elevator shafts, and out into the streets.

He could feel the nervous sweat of the snipers stationed on the rooftops two blocks away. He could hear the frantic tapping of keyboards in the police precinct as they tried to erase the drone footage of a man tearing through steel with his bare hands.

"They've declared a Level 5 Lockdown," Valerie said, walking into the room. She looked exhausted. Her uniform was wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes. "The Council didn't brand you a terrorist. They did something worse. They issued a 'Bio-Hazard' alert. They’re telling the public you’re a walking plague, a failed experiment from Sector 7."

Han Chen opened his eyes. The gold in his pupils had settled into a deep, burnished bronze. "A plague? How poetic. They can't kill me, so they try to turn the world into my cage."

"It's working," Valerie said, pointing at the TV. "The news is showing doctored footage of you in the hospital. They’re making you look like a monster. If you step outside, the civilians won't see a hero or a rebel. They’ll see a demon."

"Then I suppose I should stop acting like a guest," Han Chen said, standing up.

He walked to the window. In the distance, a fleet of armored vehicles was converging on the hotel. But he wasn't looking at them. He was looking at a sleek, black helicopter hovering a mile away—no markings, no lights.

"Tigor," Han Chen said into the air.

The giant appeared from the shadows of the suite instantly. "Tuan."

"The 'Bio-Hazard' team will be here in five minutes. They won't use bullets; they’ll use gas and sonic emitters. Take the men. Use the sub-level maintenance tunnels. I want you to intercept the black helicopter at the harbor helipad. Don't destroy it. I want the passenger."

"And what about you, Tuan?" Tigor asked.

Han Chen smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression that made Valerie’s skin crawl. "I’m going to give them the monster they’re so desperate to see."

---

The lobby of the Grand Imperial exploded in a cloud of white vapor.

Sixteen men in heavy, pressurized bio-suits stormed in, carrying specialized pulse-rifles. They moved with mechanical precision, their boots clattering on the marble. Behind them stepped a man in a gray suit—Elder Wu, the same man who had stood in the shadows during the Obsidian Auction.

"Locate the target," Wu commanded, his voice muffled by his respirator. "The Association wants him alive, but the Council wants his head. I’ll settle for his spine."

The elevator doors at the end of the lobby chimed.

Ding.

The mist swirled as the doors slid open. A single figure stood inside, shrouded in a coat of golden light that seemed to burn the gas away on contact. Han Chen stepped out, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.

"You’re late, Wu," Han Chen said. "I’ve already finished my breakfast."

"Kill him!" Wu roared.

The pulse-rifles opened fire. Instead of bullets, they unleashed waves of high-frequency sound designed to liquefy internal organs. The air in the lobby vibrated so violently the glass chandeliers shattered into dust.

Han Chen didn't move. He simply took a breath.

As he exhaled, a wave of golden Qi erupted from his lungs. It wasn't a blast; it was a solidification. The sound waves hit the golden wall and snapped like brittle glass. The lobby went silent.

Han Chen moved.

He was a blur of gold and shadow. He didn't use a weapon. He used the palms of his hands.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Every strike sounded like a gong. The men in bio-suits didn't just fall; their pressurized suits imploded, the air inside being turned into a vacuum by Han Chen’s touch. In ten seconds, fifteen men were convulsing on the floor, unable to draw a single breath.

Elder Wu backed away, his hands shaking as he reached for a jade pendant at his neck. "You... you aren't just a cultivator. You’re a monster from the Old World!"

"And you’re a flea pretending to be a dog," Han Chen said, appearing in front of Wu.

He grabbed Wu by the throat and lifted him off the ground. The Jade pendant shattered in Han Chen’s grip, the protective spell inside being crushed by sheer physical force.

"Who is in the black helicopter, Wu? Who gave the order for the Bio-Hazard alert?"

Wu gasped, his face turning a deep, bruised purple. "You... you think you've won? This city... it’s just a seal. You're not fighting a council. You're fighting the Warden."

Han Chen’s eyes narrowed. "Warden?"

Suddenly, the floor beneath them groaned. Not the building—the earth itself. A deep, tectonic vibration shook the hotel, more powerful than any explosion.

Han Chen looked toward the harbor. The black helicopter he had sent Tigor to intercept wasn't taking off. It was being pulled down. A massive, black tentacle, made of shifting shadows and rotting sea-foam, had risen from the water and wrapped around the aircraft.

"The seal..." Wu wheezed, a terrifying grin spreading across his face. "Your little stunt at the harbor... your men... they didn't catch a passenger. They woke up the Gatekeeper."

A roar echoed across Arkas City—a sound so ancient and so foul that every bird in the city dropped dead from the sky.

Han Chen dropped Wu and ran to the shattered lobby window.

The harbor was gone. In its place was a swirling vortex of black water. And rising from the center was a creature that defied every law of biology—a mass of eyes, scales, and shifting darkness that stood taller than the skyscrapers.

But that wasn't the cliffhanger.

Han Chen’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a video feed from Tigor’s body-cam.

The camera was lying on the ground, cracked. In the frame, the ten men of the Eternal Guard were frozen—not by fear, but by something else. Standing in front of them was a little girl in a white dress, holding a black butterfly.

She looked into the camera, and her voice came through the speaker, clear and sweet, despite the chaos.

"Hello, Teacher," she said. "I told you the prison was small. Now, the Warden wants his key back."

The video cut to static as the giant shadow-monster let out a second roar, and the hotel began to lean, its foundations liquefying.