The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 459 – Arrogant?

John hadn't used any martial arts techniques, and even Violet Moore—despite her keen eye—couldn't discern anything wrong with his cultivation method. She turned to her mother with furrowed brows.

"His vital energy is cyan, which usually feels like a gentle cultivation method... but from what he just did, it's extremely domineering!"

After pondering it for a moment, Violet shook her head. "I don't know either."

Even her mother couldn't identify it.

That shocked Violet even more.

Mark Leonard, watching silently from the side, cast a scornful glance at Faith Wood and thought to himself:

If you could actually see through it, I'd be damned.

Just a few days ago, John had alternated between emitting a ferocious, evil aura and the aura of the Queen Cyan—the most peaceful and holy emperor of ancient legend.

If they had seen that scene, they'd be even more stunned.

What was happening now wasn't even the tip of the iceberg.

Mark watched the battle with sharp focus.

Lard Wenson had been defeated twice in a row, and it wasn't just about being caught off guard anymore. If the first loss could be blamed on carelessness... what about the second?

That second suppression only proved one thing:

The bald man was terrifyingly strong.

It had nothing to do with luck.

"Apologize!"

Before Lard could even process the blow from the second punch, John's cold, domineering voice boomed in his ears again.

Lard's face twisted in frustration.

Apologize? For what?!

Was it because he didn't respect Mark Leonard? Was this bald freak that loyal? Did he seriously want him to apologize just for disrespecting a fellow disciple?

Lard had completely forgotten the real reason John demanded an apology—that his dog had barked and disturbed John's beloved woman.

At the time, Lard had dismissed John as a lunatic, arrogantly believing the man was digging his own grave.

He hadn't taken his words seriously.

And now? He still had no idea why the bald freak wanted him to apologize.

But regardless of reason, after being knocked back twice, Lard understood one thing clearly: this wasn't just some lunatic—this was a threat.

He had to go all out.

Without hesitation, Lard refined a drop of his essence blood. His golden vital energy surged in an instant, glowing with a faint reddish hue—a terrifying sign of the power he was unleashing.

In his hand, the sword trembled—and in the blink of an eye, it split into twelve sword shadows.

Ghost Sword Thirteen. Twelfth Level.

Stronger than anything he'd used before.

Buzz!

The twelve sword shadows hovered, buzzing with lethal intent as they pointed directly at John.

It was a familiar sight.

Only this time, John didn't have the Excalibur in hand.

Previously, he had casually drawn that ancient sword to crush Lard's Ghost Sword Eleven like it was nothing.

But this time—this time, he hadn't brought it.

He hadn't expected to use it on this trip to Alps Mountain.

And even if he wanted to summon it now, it was too late.

So John made a bolder move.

He retracted all of his vital energy. Not a single aura leaked from his body. His fists were bare—no glow, no protection, nothing.

The crowd collectively gasped.

He was going to face Ghost Sword Twelve—with bare hands?!

Was he insane?!

All around him, the disciples of the Cinnabar Sect looked bewildered, their expressions twitching as they watched.

Lard Wenson had humiliated their sect. His threats, his arrogance—it had weighed heavily on them, leaving them resentful yet too weak to act.

Then John appeared—wild and reckless—and they thought he would only make things worse by provoking Lard.

They'd been furious, thinking he was going to bring even more trouble to their door.

But then—he struck.

Two consecutive punches that completely suppressed Lard's arrogance.

The entire Cinnabar Sect was stunned... and for the first time in days, they felt relief.

The gloom hanging over their heads began to lift.

But now...

Now, John retracted all his energy? No defenses?

At a moment this critical?

What was he thinking?!

Was he becoming too arrogant?

Lard Wenson had burned essence blood to power up. This Ghost Sword Twelve wasn't just stronger—it was lethal. This wasn't the same as the last two exchanges.

Had John let success cloud his judgment?

The disciples didn't know whether to feel excited or terrified.

Even Mark Leonard was trembling slightly.

John, what are you doing...?

He knew how strong John was. He'd just proven it twice. But this—this was too much. Even the strongest cultivator in the Golden Crystal Realm could be killed if they didn't use their vital energy.

Without that energy, there was no defense.

It wasn't bravery. It was madness.

"Mom..." Violet was about to speak when Faith interrupted firmly.

"Don't say anything. Just watch."

Her tone was serious.

She had hated John before—truly. But after witnessing his terrifying strength, that resentment had begun to shift into reluctant awe.

Faith no longer believed he was acting blindly.

No one would be so arrogant in a fight of life and death—unless...

Unless he had something hidden.

Something no one else could see.

And deep inside, an expectation began to rise in her heart.

Meanwhile—

Lard Wenson also noticed John had retracted his vital energy.

A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

He's looking down on me again!

Fury surged within him.

He didn't hesitate. With a roar of rage, he unleashed the full power of his Ghost Sword Twelve—all twelve sword shadows slicing forward at once, howling through the air like reapers of death.

The sheer pressure shredded the air.

"If you dare be arrogant, then I'll send you straight to hell!"

Lard's furious roar echoed like thunder.

His humiliation from before, his wounded pride—everything exploded in this one, ultimate killing strike.

And as for John?

Lard believed he was about to die.