novelbin Chapter 224: The Cripple Lucus
Chapter 224: The Cripple Lucus
The Cripple Lucus
After killing the middle-aged man, Steffan began attacking the others.
The moment the corpse collapsed onto the shattered arena floor, panic exploded throughout the entire Lockheart Martial Arts Hall.
No one had expected things to escalate this far.
Blood spread across the cracked stone tiles beneath the moonlight. The metallic smell drifted heavily through the cold night air while frightened breaths and hurried footsteps echoed everywhere.
Steffan stood at the center of it all like a demon descended into the mortal world.
His sinister ghost mask reflected the pale moonlight faintly. The black robe on his body fluttered violently despite there being barely any wind.
Then he moved again.
With absolute overwhelming strength.
Bang!
A Silver Realm expert charging from the left was sent flying dozens of meters with a single palm strike. Bones shattered audibly before the man crashed into a pillar, coughing blood endlessly.
Another expert attempted to attack from behind.
Steffan did not even turn around.
He casually raised one arm backward.
Crack!
The attacker’s wrist snapped instantly before Steffan grabbed his throat and threw him into the crowd like trash.
Screams erupted everywhere.
The remaining Silver Realm experts felt their scalps go numb.
This was not a battle.
This was slaughter.
Steffan moved through the battlefield calmly, almost leisurely, yet every movement carried horrifying destructive power.
One punch shattered ribs.
One kick crushed kneecaps.
One palm strike sent true energy exploding through internal organs.
In a matter of moments, more than twenty Silver Realm experts were severely injured by him!
Some lay twitching on the ground unable to stand.
Others screamed while clutching shattered limbs.
A few crawled desperately away from him like frightened animals.
Steffan did not even spare them another glance.
He didn’t even bother to attack the Iron Realm Old Martial Arts practitioners.
As if touching them would dirty his fists.
That contempt hurt even more than the violence itself.
The crowd was already in complete chaos now.
People fled in every direction, terrified of being caught in this nightmare.
"Run!"
"He’s a monster!"
"Gold Realm... this bastard is definitely Gold Realm!"
"No... maybe even stronger..."
Fear spread like wildfire.
Even some household patriarchs who normally acted arrogantly could no longer maintain their composure. Their faces were pale while cold sweat soaked their backs.
Yana Tyson clenched her fists tightly.
Her injured body trembled slightly as she watched Steffan standing amidst the fallen crowd.
This man...
He truly intended to crush the entire Valemont Old Martial Arts world beneath his feet.
Steffan slowly swept his gaze across the terrified crowd before speaking indifferently.
"I’ll give you few days to consider."
His voice was not loud.
Yet everyone heard it clearly.
"Be my dogs... and destroy the D’Aurelius Family."
The moment those words fell, countless expressions changed violently.
Destroy the D’Aurelius Family?
Some subconsciously looked toward each other in disbelief.
Who exactly was this madman?
Why did he specifically target the D’Aurelius Family?
Before anyone could process it fully, Steffan continued calmly,
"In few days, I’ll visit each household personally."
His gaze slowly shifted toward Yana Tyson.
"Starting with the Tyson Family."
Yana’s orange eyes narrowed instantly.
A chilling pressure descended upon her shoulders.
Even injured, she forced herself to meet his gaze coldly.
Steffan suddenly laughed softly beneath the mask.
"Of course..."
"You can refuse."
The laughter vanished.
"As long as you can bear the consequences of refusal."
Silence.
Complete silence.
No one dared answer him.
No one dared question him either.
Because the corpses and blood around them had already become the clearest warning possible.
Steffan looked utterly disappointed by their reactions.
Weak.
Cowardly.
Pathetic.
Without saying another word, he turned around and grabbed Lucas by the shoulder like carrying a sack of garbage.
Then, beneath everyone’s fearful gazes, he left calmly.
Gracefully.
As though everything that had just happened was insignificant.
Only after his figure disappeared into the darkness did many people finally collapse weakly to the ground.
The pressure he left behind felt suffocating.
Looking at the large number of fallen Silver Realm experts scattered across the arena, the entire Valemont Old Martial Arts world was filled with fear.
The Silver Realm experts who usually stood high above others...
The people ordinary martial artists worshipped like legends...
Had looked utterly powerless before Steffan.
Like children facing a natural disaster.
That crushing gap in strength made everyone feel despair deep inside.
For the first time in many years, the so-called pride of Valemont’s Old Martial Arts world had been trampled completely.
Meanwhile—
Far away from the arena.
The night wind swept across a lonely hillside covered in dead grass.
Lucas leaned weakly against Steffan while coughing blood continuously.
His entire body ached unbearably.
Several ribs remained broken, and his internal injuries were severe, yet despite the pain, relief filled his heart.
He survived.
That was all that mattered.
After being rescued from certain death, Lucas let out a long sigh of relief.
As long as he didn’t die this time...
Everything could still be reversed.
Once he recovered from his injuries and officially stepped into the Gold Realm...
He would return personally to tear Julian D’Aurelius apart piece by piece.
That humiliation tonight...
He would repay it a hundredfold.
After reaching a hillside, the man called Steffan finally put Lucas down.
Lucas staggered slightly before quickly taking out a healing exilir from his pocket and swallowing it.
The medicinal energy spread through his body slowly, easing some pain.
Then he looked at Steffan respectfully and asked,
"Steffan... what about Evan?"
Steffan stood quietly beneath the moonlight.
"That waste is already dead."
His tone remained indifferent.
"Dead?"
Lucas was momentarily stunned.
Then excitement suddenly appeared on his bloodied face.
Dead?
Good.
Excellent.
That bastard had competed against him for years within the Obsidian Wing organization.
Now he was finally dead.
No more rival.
No more obstacle.
Lucas immediately cupped his fists respectfully.
"I will remember Steffan’s help today."
He lowered his head slightly.
"And I will repay it in the future."
"No need."
Steffan glanced at him coldly.
Something about that gaze suddenly made Lucas’s heart skip violently.
Before he could react—
Boom!
Steffan struck his chest directly with one palm.
The terrifying true energy hidden within that palm exploded instantly inside Lucas’s body like a violent storm.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
His nervous system shattered one after another.
His cultivation collapsed instantly.
Lucas’s eyes widened in horror.
Blood sprayed wildly from his mouth.
In merely moments, his body collapsed onto the ground heavily.
His cultivation...
Was gone.
Completely gone.
Blood began flowing from his seven orifices while his body convulsed violently.
Utter terror appeared on his face.
"Steffan... what are you doing?!"
Lucas screamed desperately.
Tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes.
Why?
Why save him only to destroy him afterward?
His entire body shook violently in fear.
He could no longer feel any true energy inside himself.
He had become crippled.
A complete cripple.
"Saving you," Steffan said calmly, "was because the trash of the Obsidian Wing organization can only be dealt with by us."
His tone carried undisguised disdain.
Evan was trash.
And Lucas...
Was equally trash.
Lucas’s breathing became ragged.
"You madman!"
His voice cracked from despair.
"My master won’t let you get away with this!"
At this moment, he could not even move his fingers properly.
All his pride...
All his ambition...
Everything had been destroyed completely with that single palm strike.
Steffan merely sneered beneath the ghost mask.
"Don’t worry."
His eyes turned colder.
"Once I finish things here..."
"I’ll personally take you to meet the old Obsidian King for your final judgment."
The moment he mentioned the old Obsidian King, genuine respect appeared faintly in Steffan’s eyes.
Five years ago...
Because of certain incidents, he had been thrown into prison.
At that time, death had already been inevitable.
No one could save him.
No one even dared approach him.
Yet the old Obsidian King personally pulled him out of hell.
He gave him strength.
Taught him terrifying martial arts.
Then threw him directly into the battlefields of Africa.
Five years.
Do you know how he survived those five years?
Every single day had been filled with slaughter.
Blood.
Bullets.
Corpses.
War after war after war.
Only by crawling through mountains of corpses did he finally earn that terrifying title—
The Martial Art King of Africa.