The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 146: Giving Out the Oracle Token

Was the symbol of their king.

And now, it rested in his trembling hands.

His body shook uncontrollably, but his hands remained perfectly steady—rigid with fear and reverence. Dropping the token would be more than careless.

It would be blasphemy.

A mistake punishable by death.

Only when John Lopez calmly walked up and retrieved the token from his grasp did the dam break—Tristan's hands began to shake violently, as if seizing with some divine affliction. That was how deeply terror and awe had rooted themselves in his very bones.

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"You don't need me to teach you what to do next, do you?" John Lopez asked coldly.

Bang!

Without hesitation, Tristan smashed his forehead into the ground in a deep kowtow. Blood seeped from the impact.

"No, sir! I will resign from my position tonight. I'll go straight to the Board of Punishment and confess every dereliction of duty I've committed over the years!"

John nodded once, expression impassive. "Since you know your next steps, I won't waste more words."

His gaze then swept over the crowd—straight to the gathered members of the Branton Family—and settled like a thundercloud over Barron Branton.

"Your son deserved far worse than death," John said coldly. "I killed him. If you have any objections or thoughts of retaliation, speak now. But know this—if I even suspect you're plotting anything behind my back, the entire Branton Family will be erased from the registry."

The words struck like a god's decree—final, absolute, and inescapable.

The air seemed to freeze.

Every member of the Branton Family quaked in horror. A storm of fear surged through their veins as their eyes widened, their knees weakening under invisible pressure. Their world had just been flipped upside down.

Because even if they didn't recognize the token... they recognized Tristan Goodman.

When a man like him knelt without hesitation, there was only one explanation: the man before them was far more terrifying than they could comprehend.

Barron Branton couldn't even cry.

The grief for his son, Carlos, sat heavy in his chest—but it was Carlos' own doing that had led to this. If he dared weep, dared show anger or sorrow, it might be taken the wrong way—and John Lopez had made it clear.

There would be no second warning.

John, reading the silence, nodded. "Since you accept it without protest, the grudge between me and the Branton Family ends here. I hope you'll live a little wiser from now on."

Then he turned and began walking—away from death and toward a flicker of warmth.

He stopped in front of Lester Phillips.

Lester stood frozen, wide-eyed, lips parted in silent disbelief. This was no ordinary shock—it was a rupture in reality itself. To him, John Lopez was an old friend—another orphan he'd grown up with in the same welfare home. They had shared hunger, laughter, pain, and survival.

And now that same friend had returned...

As an unfathomable titan.

The shock in Lester's soul was greater than anything Barron Branton could feel. It was personal.

It was existential.

"Thank you," John said, his voice suddenly soft, a genuine smile breaking through the cold armor on his face.

Just moments earlier, Lester had dared to step between the Branton Family and John, risking everything just to protect his friend.

That favor...

Was remembered.

"J-John..." Lester choked. His voice cracked under the weight of everything—shock, gratitude, awe. He had no words. None would suffice.

John gently clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to say anything. If anyone in the Branton Family gives you trouble again, come find me. As your old friend, I won't look the other way."

It was a promise.

The kind of promise only kings make.

Just as Lester had once promised to help John find a job, back when he thought his friend was struggling.

Tears rimmed Lester's eyes, and he bowed his head, lips trembling.

Meanwhile, John turned and left the Branton residence.

As he stepped through the gates, Alan Brown was already waiting for him.

Alan bent at the waist in a deep, exaggerated bow. "Sir! Do you like raising dogs? I—I can be your loyal pet! Woof!"

His words were ridiculous, but his face was completely serious.

He was dead serious.

Alan had already known John was powerful—but this... this was divine. Even Tristan Goodman, a Martial League guard, had dropped to his knees! That kind of respect was only reserved for gods walking among men.

To follow a master like that?

It was an honor.

John accepted his bicycle and replied coolly, "That depends on your performance."

"Yes, sir!" Alan shouted with gusto.

Only after John Lopez had completely vanished into the distance did Tristan Goodman dare to rise from the ground. His entire body was soaked in sweat. His face still wore the same reverent awe it had moments earlier.

Barron Branton approached him, voice hoarse. "G-Guard Goodman... who... who is that man?"

Tristan gave a bitter smile, shaking his head slowly.

"He's... a force beyond comprehension."

And he said no more.

Barron looked at the corpse of his son and sighed heavily. "Carlos... brought calamity to us all. He dragged you down too..."

"No," Tristan said firmly. "This was my fault. If I had upheld justice from the start, I would never have been afraid of being implicated."

There was a pause.

Then Barron, after a moment of hesitation, asked quietly, "Guard Goodman... are you really going to confess to the Martial League? What if... what if you just ran away—"

"Shut your mouth." Tristan cut him off immediately, voice sharp with fury. "After what you just witnessed... do you really think you can run? Even if you flee to the ends of the earth, he will find you."

He straightened up, face solemn. "And don't call me 'Guard Goodman' anymore. I am no longer worthy of that title."

With that, he turned and strode out of the Branton estate—heading directly to the Southern Martial League Headquarters to confess his sins.

Barron stood rooted in place.

His heart thundered with lingering fear, his breath shallow.

He hadn't been told who that man was... but the answer was now obvious.

Only one title fit that kind of man.

King of Horizon.

A being who stood at the apex of the kingdom—a god among men.

The gravity of that truth hit Barron like a tidal wave.

Moments later, he convened a family-wide emergency meeting.

He made two major announcements:

The Branton Family would immediately withdraw from the skincare product market in the state of New York and relinquish all claims over Hanmi Group to avoid further conflict with the Queenie Group.

Lester Phillips, his son-in-law, would be promoted to a core member of the Branton Family—granted access to inner-circle operations and elite training.

Because only a fool would cast aside a man who had the King of Horizon for a friend.