Skip to content
Novel Catalog
Chapter_272
Step by step, Francis advanced toward the masked man. His every movement radiated an oppressive force, like a predator dragging itself out of a dark abyss.
His voice followed soon after—deep, domineering, almost inhuman in its weight.
The masked man, despite his previous arrogance, stumbled two steps backward. For the first time, fear danced in his eyes.
“Which family do you belong to?” Francis narrowed his gaze. His sharp eyes pierced like blades, cold and terrifying, chilling the man to his bones.
The masked man’s composure shattered. He trembled uncontrollably, as though gripped by an invisible vice.
Francis was no ordinary warrior. He stood at the peak of the Profound Reality Realm, a guardian of one of Drakonia’s four great islands. His cruelty was legendary, and his thirst for blood was said to be boundless. Rumor had it he had once smashed invading warships near Phoenix Island with nothing but his bare hands.
The masked man realized in that moment—he stood no chance.
With a sudden intake of breath, he lifted a trembling hand—and slammed it against his own forehead.
A horrifying crunch echoed through the air as his skull shattered. He dropped to the ground, lifeless.
The others, seeing this, followed suit.
One by one, the remaining masked fighters dropped their weapons and committed suicide without hesitation.
The agents of the Ninth Division stood frozen, mouths agape. They were watching the impossible unfold.
Who was this man? With a single punch, he had destroyed someone at the Profound Reality Realm—and without lifting another finger, he had broken the will of suicide-trained warriors.
Utterly unbelievable.
Francis walked calmly to the fallen masked leader and removed his mask. The man’s face was horribly disfigured, as if burned by acid—an intentional deformity to protect identity even in death.
“A kamikaze soldier,” Francis murmured, recognizing the signs immediately.
The ten major families often trained and deployed such warriors—men and women who had been conditioned to embrace death, their very lives pledged to their family’s survival. The cost of raising one was immense, and they would not be dispatched unless the mission was vital.
Turning to Judas, Francis asked coolly, “Is the item still secure?”
Judas nodded hastily. “It is, Lord Guardian. Thank you for saving us!”
Francis gave a rare, faint smile. “Luckily, my junior, Nash, sent word in time. Otherwise, your life would’ve ended here.”
With that, his figure blurred into an afterimage and vanished without a sound.
Judas stood stunned.
Junior? Nash?
Nash… was the junior of Francis, the living legend?
After a long moment, Judas finally whispered, as though speaking to himself, “No wonder that kid has such terrifying strength at such a young age…”
At Royal Bay, peace returned for the moment.
After breakfast, Harrison asked Lauren and Hera to stay at home with Yvonne, while he headed to the company on his own.
James appeared shortly after, dragging his suitcase behind him. “Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. I need to visit his grave,” he said solemnly. Then he turned to Yvonne. “Are you coming back with me, or do you want to stay in Jonford a little longer?”
Yvonne bit her lip and hesitated before replying, “I… I want to stay a few more days.”
James gave a soft, understanding smile. “Alright. I’ll come pick you up soon.”
Then, turning to Lauren, he said sincerely, “I’ll talk to the old man again. It’s been years since you left. He should be willing to listen by now.”
“Thank you, James,” Lauren replied, both grateful and apprehensive.
Her relationship with her brothers had finally begun to thaw, but the thought of facing her father still filled her with dread. The old man had always been as stubborn as a stone wall.
Later, Harrison personally escorted James to the airport.
Not long after, Maria entered the room looking visibly unsettled.
“There’s a man hanging around outside. I think it’s the same one who was sneaking around last night,” she said anxiously. “Should we call the police?”
Lauren and Hera exchanged looks—then turned to Nash in unison.
“I’ll go check it out,” Nash said.
He stepped outside the villa and spotted the suspicious man easily—a well-dressed man in a suit, sitting stiffly on a bench in the park a hundred meters away.
Nash approached swiftly, his tone cold and sharp. “What are you trying to pull this time?”
The man lowered his head in shame. “I failed… I couldn’t complete the task Royal Biotech gave me. I missed out on the 4.7 million reward.”
Nash raised an eyebrow, finding it almost funny. “And what’s that got to do with me?”
The man gritted his teeth, then looked up at Nash with desperation in his eyes. “I… I can offer you my life! I’ve trained at Northdale Mountain for sixteen years. I’ve reached the peak of a Stage Six Great-Grandmaster. I’m just one step away from Stage Seven!”