Returning Storms
Until a few days ago, the old Obsidian King had called him back from Africa, summoning him to return to Japan.
So he ca back.
The cold mountain wind swept across the dark hillside, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and blood. Moonlight spilled across the uneven rocks, painting long shadows over the silent forest. Standing atop the hill like a lone executioner, Steffan slowly lifted his head toward the distant night sky.
His black hair moved lightly with the wind beneath the ghostly mask covering half his face. Those pitch-black eyes behind the mask were calm... too calm. The kind of calm only born from countless deaths.
Besides helping the old Obsidian King with so matters, he had other things to take care of.
The battlefield in Africa had changed him completely.
No...
It had carved sothing monstrous out of him.
Five years of endless slaughter. Five years of walking through mountains of corpses. Every sunrise stained with blood, every night drowned in screams. In that hell, weakness was a sin. rcy was suicide.
And the old Obsidian King had taught him exactly how to survive.
At this mont, Lucas lay unconscious on the ground from the pain.
His body twitched slightly from ti to ti. Blood stained the grass beneath him, and his breathing was weak and uneven. The destruction of his nervous system had completely shattered him. The proud genius who once believed himself destined to stand above others had now beco little more than a crippled dog abandoned on a hillside.
Seeing his miserable state, Steffan slowly raised one hand.
The air behind him distorted slightly.
Two figures imdiately appeared in front of him, speaking in unison, "Steffan!"
One wore black robes that blended perfectly with the night itself. The other wore white, standing silently like a ghost beneath the moonlight. Their presences were restrained, yet dangerous enough to make even Silver Realm experts tremble instinctively.
They were his trusted aides.
Steffan glanced at Lucas without emotion before speaking in a cold voice.
"Take this useless guy away and lock him up."
The man in black hesitated slightly before asking carefully, "Alive?"
Steffan’s eyes narrowed faintly.
"For now."
The woman in white nodded imdiately. "Understood."
Neither dared question him further.
To them, Steffan’s will was absolute.
The two acknowledged and quickly disappeared with Lucas.
Only the night wind remained.
Steffan stood alone atop the hill for several seconds in silence.
Then his gaze slowly drifted toward the distant direction of Valemont.
Toward the D’Aurelius household.
A dangerous smile slowly ford beneath his mask.
"Julian D’Aurelius..."
His voice was soft.
Yet strangely oppressive.
"You’ve beco far more interesting than that waste Evan."
The wind suddenly grew colder.
Then his figure disappeared into darkness like a phantom.
...
anwhile—
Julian rushed back toward the martial arts hall at full speed.
The mont he entered the ruined arena grounds, his expression changed slightly.
The once lively martial arts hall now resembled a battlefield after a massacre.
Broken stone pillars littered the ground.
Cracks spread across the arena floor like spiderwebs.
The tallic sll of blood hung heavily in the air.
Groans of pain echoed everywhere.
Old Martial Arts experts lay scattered across the ground, many clutching their chests while coughing blood. So had completely fainted from severe internal injuries.
What the hell happened?
Julian’s golden eyes sharpened instantly.
How did Lucas manage to escape?
Did this guy have so hidden trick that allowed him to break through and run away?
He moved quickly through the injured crowd, his black coat fluttering behind him. Several people instinctively stepped aside when they saw him approaching.
"What happened?"
He ran over and asked.
Yana Tyson, who was leaning weakly against a broken pillar, slowly lifted her head toward him.
Her long black hair was disheveled.
Blood stained the corner of her lips.
One sleeve of her dress had been torn during the chaos, exposing bruises across her pale shoulder. Yet even injured, the fierce orange glow in her eyes remained unchanged.
The mont she saw Julian return safely, sothing inside her quietly loosened.
But hearing his voice again also made her heart tighten.
(He ca back safely...)
That familiar inner voice she alone could hear echoed faintly within her mind, causing her breathing to pause for half a second.
Julian himself remained completely unaware.
Yana quickly bit her lip and suppressed the strange warmth rising in her chest before speaking through gritted teeth.
"A man called Steffan just ca and rescued Lucas..."
Her voice carried frustration and unwillingness.
As she explained everything that had happened, the expressions around them beca increasingly ugly.
The mysterious masked expert had crushed the Silver Realm experts effortlessly.
One strike.
One kill.
Even the combined pressure of Valemont’s Old Martial Arts forces had failed to stop him.
After she explained the situation, Julian was a bit stunned.
A mysterious expert wearing a mask ca and rescued Lucas?
And injured so many people?
His brows slowly furrowed.
Mid-Gold Realm at minimum...
Maybe even higher.
This wasn’t so random hidden expert.
This was soone deliberately targeting him.
Julian turned his head toward Lina Ashford and Liza Voss.
The two won stood nearby with solemn expressions.
Lina’s long green hair swayed lightly in the night breeze while her curvy figure remained tense. Her purple eyes were filled with unease.
Liza, standing beside her, silently tightened her grip on the dagger at her waist.
"I’ve never heard of any Steffan. Maybe he’s soone that old monster trained..."
Liza shook her head with a bitter smile.
Her voice carried obvious exhaustion.
The death of Evan should have brought her relief...
Yet instead, an even larger shadow had appeared.
Lina was also a bit helpless; the Obsidian Wing organization was too well-hidden, and there were many things they didn’t know.
"An expert like that wouldn’t suddenly appear without reason," Lina said softly. "If he was trained by the old Obsidian King personally... then this situation is worse than we imagined."
Her eyes unconsciously moved toward Julian.
For so reason, after hearing his thoughts earlier near Evan’s death...
She could no longer see him the sa way.
He carried too much.
Far more than anyone realized.
However, being able to easily take soone away from so many people and even turn the tables to threaten them indicated that his strength was at least mid-Gold Realm!
The atmosphere grew heavier.
At this mont, the Old Martial Arts forces from Valemont present all had complex expressions as they looked at Julian.
So looked fearful.
So looked hesitant.
Others looked conflicted.
The appearance of Steffan had completely shattered their confidence.
The mysterious expert who appeared today was clearly targeting the D’Aurelius household.
Being drawn into this vortex of conflict ant they had to choose sides.
Either stand against the D’Aurelius household!
Or stand against that expert!
And honestly...
Neither side looked survivable.
A middle-aged patriarch quietly lowered his head, his fists trembling.
Another old man sighed deeply.
"Mid-Gold Realm..." he muttered weakly. "How are we supposed to fight that..."
Fear spread silently through the crowd.
Noticing their gazes, Julian guessed their thoughts imdiately.
But he didn’t bla them.
Fear was normal.
Especially after witnessing overwhelming strength firsthand.
In this world, survival always ca before pride.
Julian simply exhaled slowly and looked toward Amara Ravenswood.
"Let’s save the people first."
Amara froze briefly after hearing him.
The petite beauty looked around at the severely injured experts lying everywhere. Her hazel eyes visibly trembled with pressure.
She crouched beside one of the unconscious Silver Realm experts and checked his pulse nervously.
The damage inside his body was catastrophic.
Broken nervous pathways.
Collapsed internal organs.
Chaotic true energy rampaging through his body.
Even her hands started trembling slightly.
"I... can’t save them, their nervous systems are too severely damaged."
Amara bit her lip.
Her voice sounded frustrated and guilty.
Such severe internal injuries were beyond her dical skills.
Even with the dical knowledge inheritance given by her grandfather, there were still limits to what she could currently do.
She hated that feeling.
The feeling of helplessness.
Several injured experts nearby lowered their heads in despair after hearing her words.
So even closed their eyes quietly.
But then—
Julian stepped forward calmly.
The night wind stirred his black hair slightly as those golden eyes t Amara’s nervous gaze.
"It’s okay," he said softly.
His voice carried an inexplicable steadiness.
"I’ll teach you."
User Comments
0 comments from readers