The Ghost-Masked King

When Evan died, Lina Ashford and Liza Voss felt a sense of relief, yet a new worry crept into their hearts.

The cold night air swept through the abandoned street like a restless spirit.

Street gone silent night wind howl

Broken leaves rolled across the asphalt under the pale moonlight. The metallic smell of blood still lingered heavily in the air, mixing with the damp scent of rain-soaked concrete. Evan’s corpse lay motionless on the ground, his eyes still wide open with unwillingness and despair, as though even in death he could not accept his ending.

Lina lowered her head silently.

Her long green hair fluttered gently in the cold wind as her fingers unconsciously tightened around the military knife in her hand.

It was over.

The nightmare that had controlled her for years was finally dead.

Yet strangely...

She did not feel as relieved as she imagined.

Liza stood beside her quietly, her black eyes reflecting complicated emotions. Her breathing remained uneven from the battle earlier. Blood stained the dagger in her hand, but her gaze no longer carried hesitation.

Only exhaustion.

And fear.

After all, he was the Obsidian King of the Obsidian Wing organization.

No.

The Obsidian King of the Obsidian Wing organization.

One of the monsters standing at the top of the underground world.

A man feared across countless countries.

A man personally cultivated by that terrifying old monster.

Having died at the hands of Young Master Julian, how could the Obsidian Wing organization let this go?

That thought alone sent chills down their spines.

The Obsidian Wing was not some ordinary underground force.

It was a shadow lurking behind nations.

An existence capable of erasing entire households overnight.

Even Lina, who had been trained inside the organization since childhood, only knew the tip of its true power.

Liza slowly looked toward Julian D’Aurelius.

For some reason, they felt that Young Master Julian had undergone some sort of change.

No.

Not just change.

It was as though something ancient inside him had awakened.

Julian stood calmly beneath the moonlight, his black hair moving softly in the wind. The golden glow hidden deep within his eyes flickered faintly for a moment before disappearing again.

His expression remained indifferent as he stared at Evan’s corpse.

Not hatred.

Not joy.

Just calmness.

An unsettling calmness.

Lina bit her lip slightly.

For a brief moment earlier, when Julian stood before Evan, she had felt an indescribable pressure from him.

Like standing before someone who had witnessed countless deaths already.

Like someone who no longer feared fate itself.

And somehow...

That frightened her more than the battle.

Julian slowly turned around.

"Let’s go, it’s time to kill Lucas."

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

Without even glancing at Evan’s corpse, Julian led the group back toward the Lockheart Family Martial Arts Hall.

You’re next, Lucas!

The killing intent hidden beneath his composed expression made the surrounding air feel colder.

Liza exchanged a glance with Lina before quickly following behind him.

Neither woman spoke.

Because both could feel it.

Tonight was far from over.

The streets remained eerily silent as the group moved forward beneath the dim streetlights. Their footsteps echoed softly through the empty road while distant thunder rumbled somewhere far away.

The wind grew stronger.

Dark clouds slowly gathered across the sky.

As though even the heavens sensed the coming storm.

At this moment, on the arena.

The once glorious martial arts platform had already become a battlefield stained with blood and broken stone. Deep cracks spread across the ring from the earlier battle, while shattered seats and debris littered the surroundings.

The heavily injured Lucas had already been subdued by the crowd.

His blonde hair was drenched with blood.

One arm hung limply at his side while bruises covered nearly his entire body. Blood continuously dripped from the corner of his mouth onto the cold floor beneath him.

The Tyson Family had beaten him severely but spared his life, intending to wait for Julian D’Aurelius to return and decide his fate.

Several Old Martial Arts experts surrounded him cautiously.

No one dared lower their guard.

Because even heavily injured, Lucas was still terrifying.

Lucas lay on the ground, his face full of humiliation.

His chest rose and fell violently.

Every breath felt like blades stabbing into his lungs.

Originally, he had planned to keep Evan here today, to let that kid die in this place.

He had prepared carefully.

Watched from the shadows.

Waited for the perfect opportunity.

Yet in the end...

Everything had collapsed.

Unexpectedly, Julian D’Aurelius had hidden his strength so well, and in the end, Lucas was the one left behind.

The thought alone almost made him cough blood again.

His fingers dug deeply into the ground beneath him.

Hatred burned violently inside his eyes.

Seeing the ancient martial artists around him eyeing him like tigers watching their prey, he was filled with resentment.

Those same people who once feared him now stared at him like starving wolves.

Waiting.

Watching.

Hoping to tear him apart the moment Julian arrived.

Lucas gritted his teeth.

A twisted killing intent surged through his chest.

If he could leave here today, he would return one day to wipe them all out!

Every single one.

The Tyson Family.

The Valquin Family.

The De Dominicis Family.

And Julian D’Aurelius most of all.

He would skin that bastard alive.

Lucas suddenly laughed weakly to himself.

The sound was cold and filled with madness.

A nearby Silver Realm expert frowned and shouted nervously.

"What are you laughing at?"

Lucas slowly lifted his blood-covered face.

His blue eyes were terrifyingly cold.

"You people really think you’ve won?"

His voice sounded hoarse and sinister.

"If I survive tonight..."

"You’ll beg for death later."

Several people subconsciously stepped backward.

Even injured, the pressure radiating from Lucas still made their hearts tremble.

Just as he was sinking into despair, a figure approached from outside.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the darkness beyond the arena entrance.

The entire crowd instinctively fell silent.

Noticing someone coming, everyone’s gaze turned toward the newcomer.

A chilling aura swept across the surroundings instantly.

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

Even the wind became heavier.

A quick look at " will leave you more fulfilled.

The person wore a sinister ghost mask and exuded an aura of slaughter, like a Demon returning from hell.

The black ghost mask concealed his entire face except for a pair of cold black eyes.

Those eyes carried no emotion whatsoever.

Only endless killing intent.

He wore a dark military coat stained faintly with dried blood, and every step he took felt suffocatingly heavy.

As though countless corpses were buried beneath his feet.

Sensing this overwhelming presence, everyone showed signs of apprehension.

Several Silver Realm experts instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.

Some even unconsciously swallowed hard.

Who was this person?

No one dared speak.

Because the pressure radiating from him was too terrifying.

He walked over step by step from a distance, as if treading on everyone’s hearts.

Each step echoed like a hammer smashing against their chests.

The atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive.

Some weaker Old Martial Arts practitioners had already begun sweating heavily despite the cold night wind.

The pressure was so intense that many had to avert their eyes, unable to look directly at him.

Even Yana Tyson’s expression became grave.

Her instincts screamed danger.

Extreme danger.

One Old Martial Arts expert slowly stood up from his chair, his expression serious beyond compare.

"Gold Realm..."

His voice carried disbelief.

A true Gold Realm expert.

And not an ordinary one at that.

When Lucas saw who it was, his face of despair instantly turned to excitement.

His previously dim eyes suddenly lit up with madness and hope.

His entire body trembled violently.

He never expected that the man hailed as the Martial Art King of Africa had arrived!

Relief flooded through Lucas instantly.

As long as this man was here...

No one could stop him.

No one.

Lucas suddenly struggled violently against the people holding him down, his voice becoming hysterical with excitement.

He shouted, "Steffan, save me."