There was no doubt about it.
That voice—it was John.
It was him.
That son of a bitch.
What he just said was tantamount to calling out the entire Martial Arts League. He even dared to insult Robert directly.
No one knew what to say.
Words failed them.
To put it bluntly—
It was a damn shame John wasn't dead already!
"John, how dare you disrespect the Martial Arts League! Go to hell!" Robert bellowed, utterly consumed with rage. He let out a long, furious roar and lunged straight at John, bloodlust in his eyes.
Brooke sneered. "This arrogant bastard respects no one. He deserves to die a thousand deaths!"
Then—something strange happened.
Just as Brooke was in the middle of fawning over Robert, his expression shifted. He frowned, feeling... off.
He looked down.
His feet weren't touching the ground.
His entire body was hovering, suspended in midair like a puppet.
His face instantly went pale.
What the hell was happening?!
Robert, who was charging at John, was startled by Brooke's scream. He stopped and turned his eyes toward him.
Everyone else did the same.
Stunned.
Confused.
Why was Brooke suddenly floating?
It was like he was being lifted—by something.
But by who?
Everyone's eyes widened in horror—except for Brian and Sophia. The two stood silently, unsurprised.
At that moment, John's calm voice rang out again.
"Aren't you curious how I killed your son? Aren't you wondering why Ryan couldn't stop me?"
Ryan.
The man in charge of the Zephyr Wolf-Hunting Ground.
That meant John had fought him—and won.
Everyone's hearts skipped a beat.
Robert's expression faltered. The anger in his eyes wavered, replaced by something else—doubt.
He hadn't given it much thought before. Brian hadn't warned him either.
He simply assumed Ryan hadn't been present when John killed Hardy.
But now—
That assumption seemed very, very wrong.
A heavy sense of foreboding rose in Robert's chest.
Crushing.
John gave a faint smile. "I know you're confused. All of you are."
He paused.
Then continued.
"Let me show you again—how I killed him."
As soon as the words left his mouth, John turned his gaze to Brooke. He raised his hands and whispered coldly:
"Go to hell."
Crack!
In an instant—
Brooke's body convulsed. His feet kicked at the air helplessly, and then—his neck twisted sharply with a sickening crack.
Bang!
His corpse slammed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.
Dead silence.
Everyone stood frozen, eyes bulging so wide they looked ready to pop from their sockets.
Their hearts had stopped beating.
And then—
Plop! Plop! Plop!
Their heartbeats exploded in their chests like war drums, pounding wildly, chaotically.
Their very souls were trembling.
That—that was supernatural.
That was killing without even moving.
That was... a cultivator.
Shock.
Terror.
Panic.
All of it crashed over them like a tidal wave, swallowing them whole.
Boom!
It was like being struck by lightning.
Robert stumbled back two steps, blood spilling from his mouth. His breath faltered, his murderous aura evaporating into thin air.
No one had touched him.
It wasn't an attack—it was pure fear. The intensity of it shattered his emotions, caused his body to break down.
John remained expressionless. "He offended me first. So…"
A flicker of terror crossed Robert's face.
He lowered his head.
He didn't dare meet John's eyes again.
"Any questions?" John asked coldly.
Robert's body trembled.
He shook his head in pain and murmured, "It was Hardy who offended you first. He... he deserved to die."
There was no hesitation in his words.
He admitted it.
Hardy had picked the wrong person to mess with. And now, even Robert didn't dare retaliate.
He was afraid John would turn that rage toward him next.
This was the law of the world.
A cultivator's strength could tear any ordinary warrior apart.
Only a fool would dare to offend one.
"Then get out," John said flatly.
"Thank you, John!"
Robert didn't dare linger. Though his son had died a brutal death, he couldn't afford to provoke a cultivator.
He was lucky to still be breathing.
He left without another word.
Brian remained behind—because John had asked him to.
John turned to Sophia. "Miss Long, you have two choices," he said. "You can either take me as your instructor and begin cultivating, or return to the Houston Martial Arts School to continue training there."
Given everything that had happened, Brian didn't dare lay a finger on Sophia anymore.
In fact, he'd started to flatter her.
So even if she returned to school, there was no risk of her being bullied again.
Sophia looked at John in disbelief, her expression dazed.
"Mr. Lopez... are you saying I can actually learn from you?"
"Yep," John replied with a smile.
He was just offering guidance. He could only take her to the door of cultivation—how far she went would depend entirely on her own effort and potential.
He'd already mentored several of his sisters in the same way. This wasn't a big deal for him.
Sophia bit her lip and thought for a moment.
Then, she smiled faintly and said, "I choose to go back."