Mrs. and Mr. Smith
Chapter 1172

Chapter 1172: Chapter 1172: The Worry from Above Chapter 1172: Chapter 1172: The Worry from Above Despite Marc Fraley's hoarse and desperate yelling, Ethan Smith no longer paid him any attention.

He returned to the Divine Alchemist Pavilion.

At this moment, the pavilion had already become a pile of ruins.

Holding Star's corpse, Ethan went to the mountain behind.

He built a grave for Star and carved Star's name onto the tombstone.

The back mountain was somewhat desolate, and Ethan gazed at Star's grave, his heart filled with countless emotions.

*How many people along this journey will pass away? How many will make it to the end?*

“Star never did anything bad in his life,” the Pavilion Master said softly beside him.

Ethan remained silent.

*This world has never judged outcomes based on good or evil. Countless wicked souls roam free beyond the Ninth Cloud, while so many kind-hearted individuals meet untimely deaths.*

*The world of cultivators is even more cruel–perhaps today you toast cups together, and tomorrow you become a mound of dirt.*

“Let's go.”

Ethan lingered no longer and turned to return to the Divine Alchemist Pavilion.

Everyone was extremely curious about Ethan's current battle prowess.

“Ethan, your realm clearly hasn't advanced at all, so why is your strength…” Daphne Green was the most astonished.

“Could it be due to your special constitution?” Emmett Middleton chimed in.

Ethan shook his head and said, “Neither.”

“It's Miss Taylor's blood,” Dashiell Garrett blurted out like a sycophant.

At this moment, his demeanor from the day he debuted into society was nowhere to be seen–he looked entirely like a bootlicker.

Ever since witnessing Ethan's unparalleled combat ability, Dashiell Garrett no longer wanted to eliminate Ethan. Instead, he even hoped to follow Ethan in entering the Holy Region.

The others in the room glanced at Dashiell Garrett with odd expressions, and a faintly uncomfortable atmosphere pervaded the room.

“Dashiell Garrett, do you know the origins of the iron rod?” Ethan suddenly recalled this matter.

Dashiell Garrett shook his head and said, “I don't know, but I'm certain it originates from Earth.”

“Such a divine weapon ought to have been shared amongst us eight. Clearly, Luke Fraley dropped the ball on this one.”

Ethan pulled out the iron rod, which was still corroded with rust and lacked any discernible flow of energy. Yet, it remained unfathomably strong.

According to the man with the mustache, the illustration belonged to the masked woman.

Since this iron rod could activate the painting and revive it autonomously, it must have a provenance no less remarkable than the painting itself.

*But… if even Dashiell Garrett doesn't know the origins of this item, then perhaps very few in this world can uncover its secrets.*

“By the way, how much time is left until the opening of the Holy Region, according to the prophet's timeline?” Ethan suddenly asked.

At the mention of the prophet, Daphne Green's expression visibly became uncomfortable.

“What's wrong?” Ethan frowned and asked.

Daphne Green sighed and said, “The prophet is dead–killed by Marc Fraley.”

This greatly shocked Ethan.

“The prophet was skilled in foreseeing heavenly secrets; how could he fail to avoid this calamity?” Ethan exclaimed.

Daphne Green shook her head and said, “To him, everything was preordained by fate.”

Ethan fell into silence.

*He never expected Marc Fraley to go as far as to kill the prophet.*

“Based on the timeline he provided, there are fewer than ten days left before someone from the Holy Region arrives to escort us,” Daphne Green said.

“Ten days…”

Ethan murmured softly.

During these ten days, Ethan needed to address the unfinished matters on his plate.

Over the following days, Ethan drafted a list–a checklist of promises he had made to others yet left incomplete.

This included matters related to Evelyn Norton, Queenie Welch, and Spike Schneider, who had been in deep slumber.

These issues had been delayed for too long. Before departing, they had to be properly resolved.

Three days later, Marc Fraley and others were formally executed, with the execution location set at the Martial Arts Hall.

On that day, the Martial Arts Hall was filled with people; many had grown to hate Marc Fraley to an unimaginable degree.

The venue was secured by armed soldiers and numerous martial artists serving in the battle zone.

Ethan arrived at the Martial Arts Hall as promised.

As soon as he arrived, Ignacio Burke rushed over.

“Ethan, a spot has already been reserved for you over there,” Ignacio Burke said, gesturing toward the high platform in the distance.

The high platform was occupied by several men in suits, including Mr. Dawson. Clearly, this was the leadership area.

“I'll just find myself a random spot,” Ethan said, waving it off.

Ignacio Burke said firmly, “No, this was specifically requested by Mr. Dawson.”

Ethan thought for a moment, then nodded and said, “Alright.”

Following Ignacio Burke's guidance, he took a seat beside Mr. Dawson.

“Mr. Dawson,” Ethan greeted him.

Mr. Dawson, with a kindly demeanor, said, “Ethan, we owe you so much for this. Without you, who knows how much more harm that scoundrel Marc Fraley would have caused?”

Ethan shook his head and said, “This all started because of me in the first place.”

“Ah, you can't put it like that. None of us can decide others' actions,” Mr. Dawson said with a genial smile.

Ethan did not reply but instead smiled faintly; it was clear Mr. Dawson's words carried hidden meaning.

“I've heard that you are now the most formidable martial artist, impervious to blades and bullets. Even Marc Fraley didn't last more than a few moves under your hand,” Mr. Dawson continued.

“So, what's next for you? Are you planning to take Marc Fraley's place and become the new president?”

Ethan chuckled and said, “Mr. Dawson, I understand your thoughts. You clearly don't wish for me to monopolize power.”

Mr. Dawson hurriedly waved his hand and said, “Ethan, you've misunderstood.”

Ethan ignored the statement and instead continued, “I have no interest in that. The position of president of the Capital City Martial Arts Association doesn't appeal to me. The Holy Region is about to open, and that is my ultimate destination.”

“As for the presidency of the Capital City Martial Arts Association, you can support a new candidate–someone… at least controllable.”

Just as Mr. Dawson was about to respond, a shout suddenly echoed from below.

Looking down, they saw Marc Fraley and Samantha Hewitt already bound tightly and being escorted to the stage.