The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 405: Hand of Bloodshed
Chapter 405 - 405: Hand of Bloodshed
Let me introduce myself. My name is Hanson Edgar. I'm from the Kingslayer alliance!"
The man placed his white round hat over his chest with a polite bow, his tone suave and controlled.
If he hadn't mentioned the name of his organization, anyone might have mistaken him for a nobleman.
"There are several men from your Shadow Pavilion outside the door. They didn't heed my warnings, so I sent them to heaven. Please don't blame me," Hanson continued.
Even though he had just killed several assassins of the Shadow Pavilion, his words flowed with ease, almost casual. His suit, pristine and bright as snow, devoid of a single bloodstain, made it clear: he had dispatched them effortlessly.
This man radiated power. He was likely a master at the human-made soul realm—anyone less capable would have never dared to infiltrate the Shadow Pavilion's headquarters alone.
The King of the Bloodshed Palace took a step forward, bowing his head respectfully. "Mr. Edgar, we've spoken with Pavilion Master Hutch, but it seems he's unwilling to join the alliance."
The King of the Pluto Palace and the King of the Yaksa Palace also stepped forward in unison, their faces betraying familiarity with Hanson. They had evidently met him before.
"Really?" Hanson's eyes flickered with mild interest as he addressed Thomson. "Pavilion Master Hutch, might I ask why you're so reluctant to join the alliance?"
Thomson Hutch, the leader of the Shadow Pavilion, shot him a long, intense look, his face contorting in frustration. "Because I refuse to be anyone's dog—especially not to you Brits," he said firmly.
He had anticipated this moment, the three kings attempting to sway him into submission. But he wouldn't bend to them, let alone to the Kingslayer alliance.
The King of the Bloodshed Palace scoffed, his patience wearing thin. "Thomson, you're foolish. As the saying goes, a live dog is better than a dead lion. Why don't you understand this?"
He no longer even called Thomson "Master" in his words, dropping the honorific to signify the shift in their relationship. Clearly, the kings were prepared to break away from the Shadow Pavilion.
The King of the Pluto Palace sighed deeply, an air of melancholy settling over him. "Thomson, why cling to such pride? In the end, even if you stand tall now, who will remember you when you're gone? Will the American people think of you once you're dead?"
The King of the Yaksa Palace's voice was laced with a bitter edge. "Thomson, don't forget—you're nothing but a most-wanted criminal in the US Martial Arts League."
"Ridiculous!" Thomson spat, a sneer curling his lips as he stood tall. "What I've done has never been for anyone's recognition. I simply want to have a clear conscience."
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John's voice suddenly broke through the tension, light and mocking. "I completely agree with you, Master Hutch," he said from a darkened corner, his words carrying a weight of admiration.
Thomson couldn't help but look at John, bewildered. "What time is it?" he thought. "Does this guy still have the time to flatter me? Doesn't he see the dire situation we're in?"
Thomson furrowed his brow, deep in thought. A moment passed before he suddenly turned toward John and said, "You've eavesdropped on our Shadow Pavilion's secrets. I should have killed you, but now, there's a chance for you to escape!"
The split between the three palaces and the Shadow Pavilion was inevitable, and Thomson knew that they wouldn't let him off easily later on. Any secrets were no longer of importance. For the sake of John's American heritage, he felt it was a small mercy to let him go.
Though deep down, Thomson knew John didn't have much of a chance to escape.
Hanson kept his polite smile, observing the exchange, and then spoke. "Master Hutch, I truly admire your courage. But if you don't submit to the alliance, we will become enemies." His words were measured, elegant, as if this was all a simple formality for him.
Thomson fell into a heavy silence. It was clear what was at stake. His pride as an American, his deep-rooted defiance against being a puppet of the Kingslayer alliance—it all hung in the balance.
Then, without warning, he turned sharply and shouted, "Go!"
With the roar, his body moved in an instant, attacking Hanson.
Energy surged from Thomson's body, the force making his robes flare out and his figure grow even more imposing. His internal power surged, reaching the peak of his potential.
But Hanson simply maintained his polite smile. His demeanor remained unruffled, almost in contrast to Thomson's aggression. He took a step back with the grace of a gentleman, effortlessly avoiding the strike.
"Master Hutch, you're too impulsive," Hanson remarked softly.
His hand moved with a casual flick of his wrist, sending out a terrifying wave of energy that swept through the room.
It was the unmistakable energy of the soul realm.
Just then, the King of the Bloodshed Palace, seizing the opportunity, unleashed his most feared technique—one that could send chills down anyone's spine.
"Hand of Bloodshed!"
The King of the Bloodshed Palace's right palm erupted into an intense, fiery red glow, radiating heat and power. The very air seemed to warp around him as he moved in, aiming directly for John's chest.
John couldn't dodge in time. In the king's mind, there was no way John could avoid it. His palm crashed into John's chest, the impact sending a shockwave through the air.
Boom! Boom!
The force of the king's blood-red internal energy exploded on impact.
A wild, twisted grin spread across the King of the Bloodshed Palace's face.
A mere Venerable would never survive his Hand of Bloodshed, let alone an ordinary person. John would surely die.
But as the palm made contact, the king's face shifted from a grin to confusion.
Nothing.
There was no blood. No broken bones. No shattered heart.
John stood, as unscathed as before.
