“You knew object manipulation arts? Who the heck are you?”
Rowan furrowed his brow. He assumed a stance that indicated that he was confronting a formidable adversary.
The art of object manipulation was one of the Eight Miraculous Arts. It was an exceptionally rare skill beyond the reach of ordinary martial artists. Typically, those proficient in this art controlled one or two weapons at most. However, Dustin’s ability to manipulate dozens of blades simultaneously was unheard of, making it evident that he was no ordinary opponent.
“You don’t even qualify to ask for my name,” Dustin retorted coldly.
“Being a former captain of the Black Dragon Army and now working as a lackey here, you’ve truly brought shame to the Black Dragon Army.”
“Shut up! Who do you think you are? How dare you dictate to me? Even if you’re skilled in object manipulation arts, so what? Countless extraordinary individuals have died under my blade, and today will be no exception. Prepare to die!”
Rowan was furious and embarrassed. He drew his sword.
With a couple of quick steps and a powerful leap, he aimed a formidable strike at Dustin’s head. Thanks to the resources provided by the Vern family, Rowan was now halfway to becoming a grandmaster. Once he unleashed his swordsmanship, even facing a grandmaster martial artist would not be a challenge.
“Ignorant fool!”
Dustin snorted and pointed his finger into the air.
A white light shot out and pierced through Rowan’s body.
“Ah!” Rowan screamed.
He fell from the sky in a chaotic tumble, as though he was struck mid- air. A fist-sized hole appeared between his chest and abdomen. Blood spurt out incessantly.
“Huh?”
The crowd erupted in shock once again. Rowan, renowned and powerful, a former captain of the Black Dragon Army and a top enforcer for the Vern family, had been defeated with a single move. It seemed beyond belief.
“How-How can you be so strong? Are you a grandmaster martial artist?” Rowan asked shakily as he clutched his wound.
In West Lucozia, where martial arts were highly regarded, there were many martial artist masters. But individuals as young as Dustin who reached the level of a grandmaster were extremely rare. Such prodigies were usually either intensely cultivated by the military, or fiercely sought after by major aristocratic families. They couldn’t stay unknown.
“I’ll ask one last time-where is she?”
Dustin’s eyes remained cold.
Rowan remained silent. He directed his gaze toward Russo.
“What … Why are you looking at me? He’s asking you!” Russo, pale and trembling, stammered.
When Rowan and his men had arrived, Russo had thought victory was assured. In the blink of an eye, Rowan, along with the Vern family guards, now lay dead or injured. They were unable to stand. It was at this moment that Russo realized he had kicked a hornet’s nest.
“The person you’re looking for is in the Hero Alliance’s basement,” Rowan replied.
“Lead the way.”
Dustin didn’t waste any words.
Rowan nodded. He staggered to his feet, aware that Dustin had spared his life intentionally. Otherwise, he would have been a dead man by now.
“And you!”
Dustin grabbed Russo by the hair, lifting him up.
“Sir… sir, if he can guide you, do I really have to go? Look at my broken hands and feet. I can’t move easily,” Russo pleaded with a mournful expression.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But then, you’ll die here,” Dustin said with a frigid gaze.
“No, no, no I’ll go! I’ll go, alright?” Russo agreed repeatedly in a panic. Ultimately, they proceeded toward the Hero Alliance’s headquarters with Dustin grabbing Russo.
