Grand Return System-Chapter 74: Shadows Beneath the Crowded Street

Shadows Beneath the Crowded Street

At this moment, in the restaurant opposite Whitelist Restaurant, Vita Zain’s anger burned like oil fed into flame.

The rage inside him refused to settle. It churned, hot and restless, clawing at his chest the more he replayed the scene in his head.

Harry Taylor’s calm face.

Cavir Walton’s silent backing.

And worst of all—the way those people had looked at him.

As if he were nothing.

Vita stayed rigid in his seat, teeth clenched hard. From somewhere beyond the hum of chatter came muffled tunes - light laughs, dishes tapping, a soft chuckle by the drinks counter. Everyday noise. Life just passing.

Funny how things seemed to laugh at him instead.

Frozen by each repeat of that moment, air thinned inside his chest.

Fingers closed slowly on the glass of wine

Crack.

A crack split the air as the glass hit the wall, crimson wine sliding downward, much like blood let loose. A sudden break sent shards flying, deep red pouring in uneven streaks across plaster. With a sharp noise it burst apart, liquid trailing in slow rivulets beneath broken edges.

A crash snapped across the space. Heads swiveled, then eyes dropped - sudden interest in menus, in soup, in anything else. Trouble with the Zain kin? Nobody asked for that.

His voice cracked through the air like a whip snap. Breathing hard, eyes locked forward.

Fury lived in his voice, so thick it pressed against your skin like a storm about to break. The weight of it hung there, uninvited, making each breath harder than before.

A sudden movement from the woman at his side, eyes dropping just as broken pieces skittered over the tiles.

One second she was grinning, tipping forward to pour more into his cup. The moment after, her fingers shook a little when placing the bottle back on the table.

He was trembling, voice tight, but her words slipped out quiet. Maybe it’s best if you take a breath, she thought, eyes fixed on the floor. The air between them hung heavy, unspoken.

Her eyes locked onto hers, sharp and cold.

"Calm down?" he repeated, voice low and dangerous. "Did you see what happened tonight?"

A shiver ran through her after she gulped. She moved her head back and forth fast.

"No... Young Master."

That’s right. With a sharp laugh, Vita ran his fingers through his hair while rising to his feet. You never did

He began pacing across the room, slow and restless, like a predator trapped inside a cage too small for it.

"Cavir Walton..." he muttered under his breath.

That name alone made his expression twist.

"Humph. Cavir Walton can protect them for now, but he can’t protect them forever," Vita sneered, pacing like a caged beast. "I don’t believe they won’t step outside. I don’t dare touch them inside Whitelist Restaurant... but once they leave?"

He stopped walking.

His eyes darkened.

"I’ll see what excuse you have then."

The courtesan stayed silent, shrinking back into her seat. She had seen powerful men angry before, but Vita’s temper carried something uglier—wounded pride.

A servant standing nearby hesitated before stepping forward. He bowed cautiously, choosing his words with care.

"Young Master... if I may speak."

Vita didn’t turn around. "Say it."

The servant kept his head lowered.

"This matter involves Harry Taylor. Should we return and report to the Family Head?"

For the first time since the glass shattered, the room went quiet.

Vita paused.

His pacing stopped.

Slowly, he turned his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You think I should trouble my father over this?"

The servant stiffened immediately.

"I wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing lightly, Young Master," he said carefully. "But... Harry Taylor’s involvement may complicate matters. The Family Head may wish to know."

Vita said nothing for a moment.

He walked back to the table and picked up the untouched wine bottle, staring at the deep red liquid inside.

He did not want to alarm his father over what seemed like a minor grudge.

To anyone else, it might look like nothing more than a public argument.

But Vita understood something deeper.

Harry had stepped in front of him.

Harry had chosen a side.

But Harry had chosen to stand in his way.

And that was enough.

The Zain household and the Taylor household had been locked in silent rivalry for years. His father had long sought an opportunity to suppress Harrier Taylor.

For years, both families had smiled politely in public while quietly searching for cracks in each other’s armor.

Now one had appeared.

Harry... had just handed them one.

Vita slowly poured himself another glass of wine.

This time, he didn’t crush it.

He raised the glass, staring into the crimson liquid as if imagining someone’s blood.

Then he chuckled.

Vita’s lips curved.

"Fine. Go back and report this to my father."

The servant immediately bowed deeper.

"Yes, Young Master."

The servant hurried out.

In the room, the beautiful lady stepped closer, pouring wine with trembling hands, whispering soft words meant to soothe.

Vita let her tend to him.

Time drifted by slowly.

Outside, Ashford City remained lively.

Vendors shouted.

Children ran laughing through the market.

Merchants haggled.

No one noticed the invisible net tightening over the street.

—

In front of Whitelist Restaurant, Harry descended the steps with forced cheerfulness.

Behind him walked Selena, calm and composed.

Rias followed with light steps, red silk fluttering faintly.

Akeno moved last, silent and observant, her purple eyes scanning the surroundings without drawing attention.

Harry forced a grin.

We’re almost home.

Just a little further.

Then—

Bootsteps.

From both sides of the street.

Black-clothed men emerged one by one, like shadows peeling away from walls.

Within seconds, they were surrounded.

The bustling noise of the market faded slightly as nearby vendors sensed trouble and quietly withdrew.

Harry’s heart clenched.

So fast?

He didn’t let it show.

He opened his mouth to speak—

"Hehe... they’re quite fast."

Rias stepped forward first.

Her tone was playful.

Her eyes were not.

A man in green robes walked slowly through the parted line of black-clothed guards.

Vita Zain.

His expression was calm now, anger buried beneath calculated contempt.

After venting earlier, he had regained composure.

He stopped several steps away and smiled faintly.

"You two sluts," he said coldly, eyes sweeping over Selena and Rias, "let’s see where you run today. Do you think Harry Taylor, this useless person, can really protect you?"

The words hung ugly in the air.

Selena’s gaze chilled instantly.

Rias didn’t flinch.

She simply observed the encirclement.

Black robes.

Hidden auras.

Measured breathing.

Elder Black leaned slightly toward Harry, his voice low but steady.

"Everyone, be careful. There are many experts among them. The strongest has six-star GrandMaster Realm cultivation."

Harry frowned.

"He’s only six-star GrandMaster Realm," he muttered irritably. "Elder Black, you’re nine-star. Why are you afraid of him?"

Elder Black did not argue.

If it were truly only that man—

He wouldn’t hesitate.

But he knew better.

Vita would never show his full hand openly.

There were hidden presences.

Watching.

Waiting.

The pressure in the air was too thick.

They had been herded deliberately into the narrow bend of the street, stone walls behind them.

Trapped.

Vita stepped closer, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

This was the position he wanted.

Control.

He stopped in front of Rias.

"Slut," he said softly, venom dripping beneath the smile. "Weren’t you quite arrogant earlier? You said I wasn’t qualified."

His gaze flicked toward Harry.

"Let’s see who can save you today."

Harry’s jaw tightened.

His palms were sweating.

But he stepped half a pace forward anyway.

If I retreat now...

Everything before was meaningless.

Behind him, Selena’s fingers subtly brushed the hilt of her sword.

Cold Mana stirred faintly beneath her skin.

Rias’s red silk shifted in the breeze.

A faint warmth radiated from her body—barely perceptible, like embers beneath ash.

Akeno’s expression remained calm.

But her eyes had grown darker.

The market had fallen nearly silent now.

People watched from a distance.

No one dared intervene.

The street held its breath.

And the circle tightened.