John beat Lucien senseless in front of Hardy.
Twice.
And in the end, he didn't stop there—he arrogantly planted a heavy kick on Lucien's buttocks.
Not just content with that, John turned and slapped Hardy square in the face!
Everyone present stood frozen in utter disbelief. Their emotions were all over the place—shocked, anxious, awed.
They'd seen arrogance before.
But never like this.
John wasn't just bold—he was borderline suicidal.
Hardy wasn't just any ordinary figure.
He was fierce.
Unimaginably ferocious.
He'd never tolerate such humiliation. No matter what, he would have to kill John to quell his rage.
"You brat… you're f***ing dead!"
With a thunderous roar, Hardy slammed his fist down and shattered the entire table. Wood fragments flew in all directions, making the crowd instinctively stiffen. Beads of cold sweat formed on their foreheads.
Everyone knew.
This wasn't going to end peacefully.
Hardy was going to kill John. A brutal confrontation was inevitable.
John was in serious trouble.
Yet, in stark contrast to the tension in the room, John didn't back down. On the contrary, he flashed a wicked grin and said,
"Mr. Tennant, you're just a Heaven Master. You really think you can kill me?"
Provocation.
Pure, unfiltered provocation.
Another explosion erupted—not in sound, but in collective emotion. Everyone's hearts skipped violently. Their expressions shifted from shock to disbelief, finally settling into pity.
They pitied John.
Had he really let that brief tie with Bruce get to his head?
Sure, John's defense was monstrous—Bruce, a Heaven Master, couldn't even crack it.
But Hardy was no Bruce.
Bruce was mild-tempered. He would challenge someone fair and square.
Hardy wasn't like that.
If he wanted someone dead, he wouldn't fight them personally. He'd make a call, and a Venerable Master would show up to do the dirty work.
If John dared provoke Hardy now, he wasn't just being arrogant—
He was digging his own grave.
Hardy's eyes turned icy and bloodthirsty. He snapped his gaze to Hugo and said coldly:
"Dean, this is your promotion banquet. Shouldn't you say something?"
Whoosh.
Every eye turned to Hugo.
The pressure on him intensified like a storm front closing in.
His face shifted subtly. There was conflict in his gaze.
A moment passed.
Then, with a conflicted expression and a deep sigh, Hugo looked at John and spoke with disappointed gravity.
"John… you had such promise. But you're too arrogant. I hope after today's lesson, you understand—arrogance brings ruin. The higher you climb, the harder you fall."
And then, he stepped forward.
His robe fluttered as a powerful aura surged.
He was a Master.
"I'll sever your limbs on behalf of Mr. Tennant. I hope you learn to take care of yourself."
Once upon a time, Hugo and John had no enmity. In fact, they shared mutual respect.
But that had changed.
Now that Hardy was involved, Hugo's and John's interests clashed directly.
Hugo wasn't going to offend Hardy for John's sake. It wasn't personal. It was practical.
Watching Hugo approach, John understood clearly.
There are no eternal friends—only eternal interests.
This was the real world.
With a mocking smile, John spoke slowly.
"Dean… so you agree I deserved to be insulted and humiliated, just like Hardy did to me earlier? You think I had it coming?"
Hugo didn't respond.
There was no point in debating.
He'd helped John once before. But if John insisted on courting disaster, no amount of reasoning would save him.
Only one thing could teach someone like John:
Pain.
Let him feel the cold, hard reality—this world was black and white. If you were aggrieved, you swallowed it. You endured.
If you couldn't endure?
Then you brought destruction upon yourself.
"Well…"
John exhaled and said calmly,
"I don't care to understand your complex world of compromise. And if you're trying to impose your rules on me… then I'm sorry. I'm not that kind of man. I'm not someone who yields."
Then—
John closed his eyes.
Still. Serene. Unshaken.
The people around him laughed at him like he was some bastard—someone who should bow, scrape, and endure every insult.
But he wouldn't.
He couldn't.
He would vent his fury today.
When John opened his eyes, it was like an unsheathed blade.
His gaze pierced directly into Hugo's, sharp and fearless.
His whole aura changed.
The Dragon that once lurked in the abyss now soared to the surface.
The treasured sword that had once hidden its edge—now bared its full wrath.
BOOM.
John took a step forward.
There was no surge of aura—nothing visible at all.
But that one simple step slammed into Hugo like a warhammer.
Hugo flinched.
His heart clenched.
A tremor rippled through him.
The young man before him… didn't feel like the same person. He was no longer the arrogant, unbridled master they thought he was.
He was a King.
A sovereign standing above all.
Indifferent.
Untouchable.
"What… what the hell is going on?"
Why did Hugo suddenly feel this?
Why did the sight of John fill him with dread?
He shook his head.
No. Impossible.
There had to be an explanation. He hadn't even made a move, and yet he felt fear?
Ridiculous.
"Hugo…" John said coldly, taking another step forward. "Didn't you say you were going to break my limbs? I'm standing right here. Why haven't you done it?"
Another step.
Still calm. Still composed.
But something strange happened.
As John advanced—
Hugo stepped back.
It was subtle.
Instinctual.
But it happened.
Everyone saw it.
A complete collapse of momentum.
John didn't release any spiritual energy, yet his stillness and calm contrasted so deeply with the pressure he exerted that it crushed the atmosphere.
Hugo, the new dean of the Houston Martial Arts School, felt oppressed.
Not physically.
But spiritually.
It was as if John's calmness wasn't emptiness—
It was a terrifying fullness.
And it was crushing.
BANG.
Hugo's heart trembled.
He took another step back.