Start as a Spiritual Planter: I Have a Game Panel

Chapter 202 Heretic Mask

While Ram was still pondering on how to confront Shane and the rest of the Blood Hawk gang members, Shane already made the subway where Mai and Ram stayed before into their new base.

The gang had cleared out the debris and converted the central hall into a makeshift base of operations.

Most of the subway station, that once littered with rusting rails, broken lights, and graffiti-covered walls, was now transformed under Shane's command into living quatres for all the gang members.

Large industrial lights hung from the arched ceiling, casting a dim, flickering glow over the expansive hall. The air carried a metallic tang, mixed with the faint scent of damp concrete.

Long tables were arranged in clusters, laden with weapons, vials of unknown liquids, and scattered papers filled around the halls.

The faint sound of working machinery and busy workers reverberated through the corridors, giving life to the previous eerie stillness and emptiness.

At the far end of the hall, Shane sat on a throne-like chair made of welded metal and covered in dark leather.

His piercing gaze surveyed his subordinates as they bustled about, setting up equipment and arranging crates marked with spiritual runes.

The faint glow of pure Reiki pulsed through the cracks in the walls, waffling out continuously—one that made this location a strategic goldmine.

"Haha... what a perfect location," Shane laughed, the sound echoing ominously.

"A place filled with pure Reiki and hidden from the eyes of the Shadow Society." He leaned back, exuding an air of smug satisfaction, his crimson coat draped around his shoulders like a royal cape.

Standing before him was a lean, middle-aged man with a scholarly air.

Dressed impeccably in a long black coat, his neatly combed hair and thin spectacles gave him the appearance of a professor rather than a criminal.

Marcos, however, was anything but benign. His eyes shimmered faintly with strong psionic energy, a telltale sign of his abilities.

Shane's sharp voice cut through the air. "Marcos, how's the relocation process going?"

Marcos adjusted his spectacles, his tone brisk and precise. "Although there were some minor interruptions, we managed to relocate all the creatures unnoticed."

"Even the collection of the dead bodies from the failed experiments was carried out without interference. Everything is proceeding according to plan."

If Ram and his companions had been present here, they would have recognized Marcos instantly.

For the past few days, Shane had watched from the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ambush Ram.

He'd held back, unwilling to risk it. The Half Drows' involvement complicated everything. So, they'd been playing it smart—sacrificing low-level gang members and other useless bases to bait Ram while minimizing their own losses.

Shane's brows furrowed as he recalled his earlier encounters with Ram. From the start, the boy had been an enigma.

First, a powerful Tier 6 professional had appeared out of nowhere to assist him. Shane had assumed Ram was under Esha's protection, but when he discovered otherwise, he'd quickly ordered his gang to capture him and recover the stolen Heretic Mask.

But now, things had spiraled further out of control.

"With that old man and Esha sheltering them," Shane thought bitterly, "I've already lost my chance to capture them. And now, this group of Half Drows appears out of nowhere, helping him?"

Shane's frustration boiled over as he slammed his fist on the armrest. The sound reverberated through the hall, causing the other gang members to pause and glance nervously in his direction.

Marcos stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for Shane's next command.

After a moment, Shane exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. "Keep digging. I want to know who these Half Drows are, and why they're helping that kid. And find Kain—dead or alive."

Marcos nodded cautiously. "Understood, sir. I'll assign more scouts to gather intelligence on the woman and the Half Drows. As for the Heretic Mask, we'll—"

"Don't waste time searching the subway anymore," Shane snapped. "If it's still with her, we'll take it back by force once the Shadow Society's busy with collecting their harvest."

"Yes, sir," Marcos replied, bowing slightly before stepping away to carry out the orders.

Shane leaned back in his chair, his fingers curling around a broken mask he retrieved from a nearby table.

The mask, once filled with strong spiritual fluctuations, was now dull and cracked, its strange markings faintly glowing with residual energy. He turned it over in his hands, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"Just one more wish," he muttered, his voice low and bitter.

"One more, and I would've upgraded to Tier 6. Damn those bastards..." His grip tightened, and the fractured edges of the mask dug into his palm.

"I can't attract too much attention right now, not with the Shadow Society watching every move."

He stared at the mask for a moment longer before tossing it onto the table. The clattering sound echoed through the hall, drawing cautious glances from his subordinates, who quickly returned to their tasks.