Chapter 120: Rust Iron District Has Everything—Except 'Conscience'

At the very moment Tian Dao forcibly inserted himself into the Hidden Star Society, Chen Kong had already returned to the Rust Nail Bar in the 12th District of Rust Iron Hell, carrying the severely wounded Liu Ma and Vivian.

Yet the attention of the Dimensional Audience was no longer on them.

It was fixed instead on the enigmatic masked man who had just made a fleeting but devastating appearance—someone whose power had utterly crushed Xian Nv Zuo.

Thanks to Tian Dao’s flamboyant display, the audience could no longer be certain the masked figure was him.

After all, aside from both men sharing the same pale cerulean eyes, their combat styles were completely different.

To assume identity based solely on eye color was nothing short of sheer speculation.

> “This masked guy’s got connections to Lan Feng and Shattering Star—doesn’t seem to fit with Season 1’s Lao Tian at all.”

> “What’s not fitting? Six years have passed—Lao Kong’s changed drastically. Why can’t Lao Tian pick up new skills?”

> “I don’t think it’s even Lao Tian. If it were him, why not just take off the mask?”

> “Who knows what the writers are thinking? But my gut says this guy is Tian Dao.”

Debate erupted across the anime’s live chat—chaotic, passionate, and utterly divided.

Everyone had their own theory.

Everyone had their proof.

It was pure chaos.

And that was exactly Tian Dao’s intention.

He needed a noticeable presence at the start of Season 2—enough to keep the Dimensional Audience from forgetting him.

But he couldn’t reveal himself too soon, lest it jeopardize his grand plan: Above the Heavens.

So by dropping ambiguous hints and throwing in a few smoke bombs, he achieved the perfect balance.

It kept his popularity soaring, built anticipation for a future twist, and maintained the mystery—all in one move.

A masterstroke.

The masked man needed to be mysterious—but not too mysterious.

Look at how much attention he was getting now.

More than Chen Kong, the supposed protagonist of the stars.

Chen Kong still had a lot to learn about building fame.

---

[Steam Capital, Rust Iron Hell 12th District, Rust Nail Bar]

“What the hell, Kong? I just asked you to get her out of here—why did you bring her back?”

Behind the bar, Old Jack paused mid-wipe, his expression darkening as he stared at the silver-haired figure slung over Chen Kong’s back.

Liu Ma, who had collapsed onto a sofa the moment they arrived, was ignored entirely.

Old Jack had already assessed him: not a local.

He’d be safe here—no harm in that.

But Vivian was different.

She was a ticking time bomb.

One wrong move, and she could blow this whole bar sky-high.

“Boss, she’s seriously injured. I’ll send her up as soon as she’s stable.”

“No.”

Old Jack’s refusal was immediate, uncompromising.

But despite his harsh tone, he still held some bond with Chen Kong.

So he explained, patience strained:

“Kong, you’ve lived in Rust Iron District long enough. You know what happens if we keep her.”

“Get her out to the upper levels now. That’s the best outcome—for you, for me, for her.”

“Otherwise… I’ll have to make you both leave the 12th District temporarily. Come back only after she’s gone.”

Chen Kong stared at the cold, unyielding man.

Beside him, Liu Ma couldn’t hold back.

“Wait a second—she’s barely breathing! You want Kong to send her up like this? That’s the same as killing her!”

“Old man, don’t you have any conscience?”

His voice cracked with emotion—and in doing so, he jostled his chest wound.

A sharp gasp escaped him, teeth gritted in pain.

Old Jack’s gaze deepened, as if peeling back the thick fog of Rust Iron District’s soul.

“Stranger,” he said softly, “do you know why Steam Capital calls this place Hell?”

He gestured upward toward the ceiling with a bitter smile.

“Because here, sunlight never reaches. And conscience? It’s like a plague. It doesn’t just destroy you—it drags everyone around you down with you.”

“Plenty hate the people above. Even more despise the Gear Church.”

“If they find out I’m hiding a wounded Silver Knight… they’ll come swarming like rats smelling blood.”

He paused.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three measured raps echoed from the front door.

No one came at this hour unless they meant trouble.

Old Jack knew.

Chen Kong knew.

Only Liu Ma, the outsider, remained clueless.

“Go upstairs. Put her in my room. Once this is over, you leave through the back door—fast.”

With a flick of his cybernetic arm, Old Jack tossed a key toward Chen Kong.

Chen Kong caught it, nodded, and carried the unconscious Vivian up the narrow staircase to the second-floor room.

To Old Jack’s surprise, Liu Ma didn’t follow.

Instead, he stayed right where he was—sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, smirking.

“Why aren’t you going?” Old Jack asked, curious.

Liu Ma shrugged. “Go where? I’m just scraped up. Not like that knight girl, who got beat to a pulp. No need to hide.”

“Besides, I’ve been curious about this so-called hell for a while now.”

Old Jack sighed, shaking his head.

“Still got the fire of youth, huh? Me? I’m just getting more cautious with age. I’d rather run than face trouble.”

Liu Ma grinned, flashing bright white teeth.

“Then what kind of youth are you, if you’ve lost your fire?”

“Besides, a friend once told me: The greater your power, the greater your responsibility.”

He leaned forward, eyes sharp.

“And since I’ve got power… I’m staying to see what happens. Especially since you, old man, look like you’re one bad cough away from a hospital bed.”

Old Jack chuckled. “Sounds like your friend’s been through hell.”

Liu Ma paused, then shook his head.

“Nope. He’s never been through hardship. He only eats sugar—never bitter things.”

“…Really?”

“Yep. And one of his favorite tricks? Making anyone who dares challenge or doubt him pay—and he’s never failed.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

Old Jack didn’t know who this friend was.

But he could hear the admiration in Liu Ma’s voice.

Whatever this person was, they were dangerous.

And great.

Before he could press further, the Rust Nail Bar’s front door exploded inward.

A man in a skull mask led the way, his belt strapped with a Steam Saw still dripping oil.

He locked eyes with Old Jack behind the bar, voice dripping with arrogance.

“Old Jack. Heard you brought back an Upper City Silver Knight.”

“You know what it means to hide a high-class citizen in Rust Iron Hell.”

“Hand her over. Now.”

“Or your little safe zone in the 12th District won’t be safe for long.”

“There’s no Silver Knight here,” Old Jack said, slowly placing down his glass.

His dull eyes suddenly sharpened—like blades.

“Cesaro. The rules of the 12th District…”

With a sudden motion, he yanked open a hidden panel beneath the bar.

A grotesque, steam-powered shotgun emerged—its design wild, brutal, unmistakably old.

It was leveled at the Blood Skull gang.

“.Don’t let you bloodsuckers lecture us.”

Liu Ma whistled, then rose from the sofa with a lazy stretch.

“Nice. Looks like we’re getting an encore tonight.”

“Kid, you alright? That wound—”

“Relax, old man. A scratch like this? Doesn’t stop me from stomping a few bony skeletons.”

“Though I’d worry more about you. That gun looks like it’s seen a few wars. Don’t blow your own hand off.”

“Ha! Don’t worry—old man’s still got some fight left!”

The two exchanged a look—old warrior and young firebrand.

Cesaro nodded to his men.

No more words.

The battle was on.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end