Chapter 28: The Destroyer God

Whether George kissed Ethan’s ring or not was, in truth, no longer of any importance. By the time he had raced to the Poleta family estate and walked in alone, the matter had already been settled.

All anyone knew was the outcome: the Evans family had lost to the Poletas. And, more importantly, one must never provoke the Poleta family, or the consequences would be dire. George was the best proof of that.

After sending George away, Ethan did not go to bed. He spent the time reviewing and analyzing everything that had transpired over the past few days. His request for that factory had indeed been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but it was not because he had any real interest in handicrafts. After discussing it with Anya, they had both concluded that while the factory appeared to produce artisanal goods on the surface, it was undoubtedly being used as a front for moonshine production in secret. The timing of its opening was simply wrong. In recent times, the most profitable business was illicit liquor, and the Evans family was hardly a charitable organization; they wouldn't waste so much money and time on something devoid of profit. George’s subsequent reaction had only confirmed that their deduction was correct.

It was a good business opportunity. Even with the moonshine distillery beneath the "Beautiful Shell," its scale was destined to be too small. Even if it could barely cope with the current situation, future supply would be difficult. Building a new distillery from scratch would require massive capital investment, site selection, complex paperwork, and secretive measures. Now, however, George had handed him a fully operational site with all the permits already in place and staff already hired. George was truly a good man.

After pondering for a while, Ethan called Sandro to briefly explain his idea of having the Evans family join the business. To this, Sandro merely replied that since the business was Ethan’s idea, he could do as he pleased. Sandro was a wily old fox; Ethan could not fathom what he was thinking.

The night was long, and Ethan had no desire to sleep. After having Anya brew a fresh pot of tea, he began to experiment with his latest ability—the one he had suddenly grasped in the interrogation room at the police station: using words to incite violence in others. This was definitely a new frontier. If he could use it with enough finesse and increase the power of the ability, a single sentence might eventually be enough to destroy an entire legion. However, Anya was clearly not cooperating. Whether it was due to her iron-willed resolve or her absolute loyalty to Ethan, no matter how he tried to provoke her with his words, it remained ineffective.

Just as he was considering finding some other subordinates to experiment on, he suddenly felt a surge of intense malice approaching. He immediately drew his pistol and aimed it toward the balcony. The malice was coming from that direction. Without needing a word from Ethan, Anya also drew her gun.

Silence. One minute passed.

The balcony door opened, and a figure darted in. Just as Ethan was about to pull the trigger, the intruder spoke, his voice both strange and familiar. "Don't shoot, don't shoot! It's me, your Uncle Clay. Good lad, you're quite sharp."

It was Clay Nagle. He was still dressed in his signature shirt and suspenders, seemingly unfazed by the biting cold, radiating a fiery intensity instead.

"Clay, why are you here?" Ethan lowered his gun.

"You forgot? I told you last night I’d bring you the *Truth Herald*." Clay reached into his coat, produced a rolled-up newspaper, and waved it at Ethan.

"Close the door. Next time, try using the front entrance," Ethan said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Next time, for sure." Clay chuckled as he walked over. Then, as if remembering something, he clapped his hands and said, "Right, kid, I have to hand it to you. Making George come to your home to bow his head and admit his mistake—even your father couldn't manage that. If he knew, he’d probably be happy enough to crawl out of his grave."

At the mention of the grave, he fell silent for a moment.

"I already went to pay my respects at his grave today."

"Has word spread that fast?" Ethan was surprised.

"Fast? Ever since last night, everyone has been watching George. He’s become the biggest joke in the Winchester underworld." Clay let out a boisterous laugh, but Ethan simply held out his hand for the paper. The result had been expected; he didn't care about the gossip.

Clay looked a bit disgruntled as he handed the newspaper to Ethan.

The *Truth Herald*. Unlike a standard newspaper, Ethan felt something strange just by looking at the text; the words on the page seemed like living creatures, squirming ever so slightly.

"Anya, come take a look," Ethan said.

"Can she read it?" Clay asked, looking skeptical. He quickly added, "I don't mean it like that. This paper can only be read by those with a True Name; to an ordinary person, it’s just a blank sheet of paper."

"She is a True Name bearer."

"Is she? I didn't sense it—is she hiding her aura that well?" Clay eyed Anya with suspicion. Anya ignored him, focusing only on the paper.

"Who publishes this?"

"The Eye of Truth. There, look at the mark." Clay pointed to a symbol next to the *Truth Herald* title: a vertical, wide-open pupil. The eye was designed in a primitive, archaic style, reminiscent of art from over three centuries ago. Ethan judged it based on the experiences of his predecessor. As he stared at the eye for a moment, he felt a wave of dizziness and the sensation that it was peering back at him.

"Don't stare at it too long; it watches you back. Being targeted by the Eye of Truth is not a good thing," Clay said, covering the eye with his hand.

"Is the Eye of Truth a secret society?"

"Indeed, and it is also a type of True Name." Clay flipped to the second page. There was no other content on this page, only a long list of True Names. "This is a list of all known and verified True Name types in the world."

Ethan counted roughly; there were as many as fifteen. The Eye of Truth was ranked fifth. Its first True Name was "Grim Observer," followed by a string of distorted, worm-like characters that Ethan could not decipher at all. Just looking at these characters made him feel uncomfortable, yet he faintly felt his own "True Name of God" trembling, as if in resonance.

"Is this the Ancient Tongue?"

"Correct." Clay nodded. His finger slid down the list, stopping only at the second-to-last row. "This is our True Name type."

It was titled: "God of Destruction."

The first True Name listed was "User of Violence," also known as "Thug." Following that was "Integrator of Violence," or "Leader." But there was no third True Name; there was only a common term, "Gangster Saint," marked with a question mark.