"How can you uphold justice when you can't even save yourself?"
Just as Ryan felt he was on the verge of suffocation, John's emotionless voice rang out again.
Then, John let go.
Bang!
As if his strength had drained away all at once, Ryan dropped to his knees, clutching his neck with both hands and gasping violently for air.
Terrifying!
It was horrifying beyond words.
Was this the power of a cultivator?
Ryan realized now—John could have destroyed him in the blink of an eye.
The so-called soul realm of Britain and the Kingslayer Alliance was nothing but ants before a cultivator!
But what a pity...
Cultivators were a different breed from martial artists.
Martial artists drew lines along national borders. Cultivators, however, were far removed from such worldly labels. Even if the entire world were in chaos, unless their personal interests were affected, they wouldn't lift a finger.
To cultivators, cultivation came above all else.
That's why most of them never appeared in public. They preferred the solitude of mountain peaks, where spiritual energy was more abundant and conducive to their practice.
Ryan had never imagined that the young man standing before him was a cultivator.
Fortunately, John hadn't intended to kill him.
At this moment, a dead silence enveloped the clearing.
Even the wolves in the distance seemed to sense the terrifying aura lingering in the air and fell silent.
Sophia stood frozen.
So did Hardy.
And Brian.
Even the guards from the Zephyr Wolf-hunting Ground who had arrived with Brian didn't dare move a muscle.
Who would've thought that the man standing in front of them—assumed to be nothing more than a robust martial artist—was actually a cultivator?
They could hardly believe it.
After a long while, Sophia's body shuddered violently. The truth about John's identity hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes brimmed with tears of excitement.
No wonder...
No wonder Mr. Lopez had stayed calm in the face of so many powerful enemies.
He wasn't just calm—he was confident. Because to a cultivator, these so-called strong enemies were nothing.
Yesterday, when Brian suggested kicking her out of the Houston Martial Arts School, John had said it was too soon to make a decision.
She understood now.
If she could be trained by him, she might turn the tables completely.
Those arrogant people might one day bow their heads to her.
That's what he meant.
John was a cultivator. How could she remain calm after discovering that?
Meanwhile, Hardy's mind went blank.
Drenched in cold sweat, he stared at John in abject horror.
John walked toward him slowly, his expression calm and indifferent.
Hardy was so terrified he couldn't even remember to kneel down and beg for mercy.
He was scared out of his wits.
But it was already too late.
"Opportunities don't come often," John said coldly. "Unfortunately, you didn't seize yours. Now you must pay the price."
His words were like the judgment of death.
Hardy couldn't believe it. Was this really how his life would end?
But just as John said—he'd had a chance.
And he blew it.
John had never provoked him.
At Hugo's promotion banquet, Hardy had been the first to mock John, deliberately trying to embarrass him. He'd even wanted to use Hugo's influence to cripple John's limbs.
John had been ready to retaliate that day.
But Hardy's father, Robert, had arrived just in time to save him.
Yet Hardy still wouldn't let go.
He wanted revenge. He colluded with Brian and Brooke to set up a trap in the Wolf-hunting Ground, framing John as a murderer.
He didn't know he was playing with fire.
As Hardy's consciousness faded, John's words from the previous day echoed in his ears: "May you live a long life."
How ridiculous.
He had brought this on himself.
John's ruthlessness sent a chill through Brian's spine. His body trembled uncontrollably.
He knew exactly what Hardy had planned.
Hardy had shared everything with him yesterday while they were resting at the edge of the training field. That's when he asked Sophia to stop her basic training and head into actual combat.
The goal wasn't combat training.
It was a setup—a scheme to use the terrain of the Zephyr Wolf-hunting Ground to frame John.
But fate had other plans.
Their trap had turned on them.
Now, fear gripped Brian's heart—along with deep, bitter regret.
He regretted ever agreeing to help Hardy.
He had nothing to gain from it. He only wanted to curry favor.
And now?
His life hung by a thread.
He dropped to his knees, trembling violently, convinced that today would be his last day alive—
Slap!
A hard slap across his face knocked him from his thoughts. The sting of it snapped him back to reality.
"This is a lesson for you," John said calmly.
Brian was stunned.
Then—
Ecstasy washed over his face.
Not anger. Not resentment.
Just overwhelming relief.
He wasn't going to die!
He wasn't angry about the slap at all—in fact, it was like a gift. A pardon from death.
Overcome with joy, he started kowtowing repeatedly. "Thank you for sparing me! Thank you for not killing me!"
John looked at him silently.
He had no interest in taking Brian's life. He was just an accomplice—not the mastermind.
After a brief pause, John said, "Tell Robert I killed his son. If he has a problem with it, tell him to come to the Long Family. I'll be waiting."
"Yes, yes! I'll tell him right away!"
Brian nodded frantically.
Then he hesitated. "Should I tell him about your identity—as a cultivator?"
John glanced at him and said indifferently, "It's up to you."
He didn't care in the slightest.
But to Brian, that casual answer hit like a bomb.
It's up to him?
Was John implying something?
Usually, when someone said "it's up to you", they were actually giving you a hint—telling you to make the right choice on your own.
Brian took the hint.
He figured it was better not to reveal John's identity, just in case it angered him later.
He gave himself a silent thumbs-up.
Smart move.