"Not well-educated!"
The insult wasn't overly vulgar, but it struck a wide target.
Not only did it shame Hardy, but it also insulted the entire Tennat Family—right in front of Robert.
Silence swept over the room like a cold wind.
It was deathly still.
Everyone stared at John, expressions tangled with disbelief, awe, and confusion. No one knew what to say.
From Robert's earlier behavior, it was clear he wanted to de-escalate. He had even told Hardy to apologize—a rare show of respect in John's favor.
If John had just accepted the apology, everything would've ended quietly.
But no. John had instead dismissed Hardy as someone "without family education."
How was Robert supposed to take that?
How arrogant could one man be?!
Hardy's face twisted with rage. His jaw clenched so tightly that veins bulged from his neck. His eyes blazed with murderous intent.
He looked like he wanted to tear John apart, drink his blood, and gnaw on his bones.
He wanted to show this cocky bastard the true price of arrogance.
Meanwhile, Robert's mouth twitched slightly, his gaze cold and unreadable. He said nothing, but the tension in his eyes was razor-sharp—like a sword drawn but not yet swung.
He was seriously weighing whether or not to teach John a bloody lesson.
Standing nearby, Hugo could only smile bitterly to himself.
If it weren't for that brief but explosive clash earlier, even he would have assumed John was just another dead man walking—reckless and ignorant.
But now...
He knew better.
How could a cultivator be afraid of a guardian of the Martial Alliance?
Forget a guardian—even the leader of the entire Martial Alliance would have to bow to John.
For someone like John Lopez, the laws of the mortal realm—and even those of the martial world—had long ceased to apply. Anyone who crossed him was essentially signing their own death warrant.
Of course, cultivators rarely took mortal squabbles seriously. There was simply no benefit.
It was like stepping on ants. Who had the time—or the interest—to urinate on an anthill unless the ants first bit their feet?
And now... that was exactly what Lucien and Hardy had done.
They were ants who had dared to bite the toe of a dragon.
That bite might well cost them their lives.
Hugo understood this clearly. If he didn't intervene soon, Robert himself might become the next ant to be crushed.
So he prepared to speak up and try to defuse the situation.
But before Hugo could even open his mouth—
Robert laughed.
The tension in his face melted away as if the storm had passed.
He smiled and said, "You're right, Mr. Lopez. This is all my fault. I will be sure to discipline this bastard more strictly from now on."
"Dad—" Hardy blurted out.
"Shut up! Come home with me and reflect on your behavior!" Robert snapped, his voice thunderous.
Then he turned toward John and Hugo.
"Mr. Lopez, Director Smith… goodbye."
With that, he spun around and walked away.
Hardy's face was a storm of resentment, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He couldn't believe what was happening.
His father—whose power had only recently surged—was now more docile than ever.
But Robert had spoken, and Hardy had no choice. No matter how badly he wanted to stay and fight, he was forced to swallow his fury and follow behind.
Before he left, Hardy glanced back at John with eyes like sharpened blades.
With a growl in his voice, he muttered, "You're lucky you made it out alive today. But I'll settle the score with you... one day."
John didn't even bother to reply.
Hugo sighed quietly, thinking, Why can't nobodies like you just live your lives in peace?
Then John looked over and said calmly, "Why didn't you remind them?"
"Remind them… of what?" Hugo blinked, confused for a moment. Then realization dawned.
John meant—why hadn't he warned Robert and Hardy that he was a cultivator?
Hugo responded with a wry smile, "Because I'm afraid of offending you... Senior Lopez?"
In his view, John clearly didn't want his identity exposed. He'd been calling himself a Robust master—clearly a deliberate concealment. Whatever John's reasons, Hugo wasn't about to blow his cover.
John gave him a passing glance but said nothing.
Hugo held his breath, nervous despite himself.
The guests who remained looked on, bewildered. They had no idea why Hugo—a respected martial figure—was treating John with such reverence.
Was that fight earlier all just a performance?
They started to believe the unthinkable:
Maybe John and Hugo were old friends all along.
Outside the hall.
Hardy quickly caught up to Robert, eyes burning with anger.
"Dad, why did you make me apologize to that bastard? Didn't you see how arrogant he was? Why didn't you just kill him? You used to—"
Robert cut him off with a chilling glare.
Hardy shut up instantly.
After a few moments, Robert's eyes softened slightly, and he said, "It's not easy to become a guardian. Do you know how many eyes are watching my every move right now? You need to calm down for the time being."
Robert was a man obsessed with power.
He'd worked tirelessly to secure his new position.
Finally, after orchestrating the downfall of the Flaherty Family, he had climbed to this height—but his footing was still shaky.
He couldn't afford mistakes now.
When John insulted Hardy—accusing him of having no family education—of course Robert had been furious.
But could he really strike down John in front of so many witnesses?
Had he done so, word would've spread like wildfire across the martial world of Houston:
The new guardian of the Martial Alliance had used his position to bully a weaker man.
That kind of arrogance would not inspire fear—it would draw criticism and rebellion.
He had just assumed power. If he started off by being domineering and impulsive, how would he maintain control later?
It would only give his enemies ammunition.
So he swallowed his rage. He endured it.
Later, once his authority was unshakable, he could make John pay.
It would be as simple as crushing a bug.
Hardy listened to all this, his expression sour.
He felt like his insides were rotting with frustration.
He was someone who couldn't let go of even the smallest grievance. He believed in striking back instantly.
Now, he was being told to wait.
But how long? Weeks? Months?
By the time Robert's position stabilized, who knew where John would be?
Would there even be a "next time"?
Hardy clenched his fists tighter, his mind already consumed by dark thoughts.