After Dustin’s taunts, the ponytailed girl grew even more infuriated.
“This is ridiculous!” she exclaimed. Despite the obvious difference in their physical abilities, she tapped into her internal energy and advanced with renewed determination.
However, her efforts proved futile as her sword became entangled in his grip as if he had a vice-like hold on the blade.
“You’re really overestimating yourself. “Dustin chuckled, tightening his fingers around the sword.
With a distinct snap, her sword broke, sending her stumbling back a few feet. Upon hitting the ground, she winced in pain, her face contorting with discomfort as a wave of dizziness swept over her.
“Bran! He bullied me!” Feeling helpless, the ponytailed girl turned swiftly to those nearby for assistance.
“How dare you lay your hands on my junior? Are you asking for trouble?” Bran snapped. He unsheathed his sword, intending to teach Dustin a lesson.
“Stop!”
A commanding voice echoed at the entrance. The man in red strolled in, his sword strapped to his back, leading a group of people. His bold eyebrows, solid physique, and undeniable charisma seized everyone’s attention.
Bran furrowed his brow at the sight of him.
“Bran Kingsley, your sect knows how to leave a mark. Bullying in broad daylight -do you really believe you can escape consequences?” the man in red commented sharply.
“Jackson Hawk! This guy is picking a fight with our sect. I strongly advise you to stay out of it,” Bran warned with a serious expression.
“Hmph! I witnessed everything. You were clearly bullying him. I can’t stand people like you-so arrogant and overbearing!” Jackson exclaimed.
“Bullying? What goes on in our sect is our concern, and the Embersteel Order should keep its nose out of it!” Bran retorted.
“What if I decide to get involved?” Jackson asked, narrowing his gaze.
“If you choose to step in, don’t be surprised if I don’t hold back,” Bran warned. He grimaced, raising his sword and directing it menacingly at Jackson.
As the tension rose, the disciples of the Frostwing Sect instinctively unsheathed their swords, showing their support for Bran.
“Hmph! So, a challenge, huh? Let’s see who’s not afraid of a little confrontation this time!” Jackson wasted no time, swiftly drawing his blade and pointing it directly at Bran.
The disciples of the Embersteel Order mirrored his action, drawing their blades and setting the stage for a battle. Tension thickened as both factions poised for an imminent clash.
“Seriously? Can’t I just enjoy my meal in peace? If you want a brawl, do it elsewhere. Make a fuss here, and I’ll kill you!”
A sudden cold voice filled the room.
All eyes shifted to the corner, where a man in a cloak and straw hat sat.
Bran swung his longsword at the man with the straw hat, shouting, “Who the hell are you? What gives you the right to meddle in our sects’ business? Are you asking for trouble?”
Bran was well aware of the Embersteel Order’s significant standing, similar to their sect’s prominence among the three major sects in the Southwest.
Although Jackson challenging him was acceptable due to their evenly matched strengths, the man with the straw hat scolding him seemed like an open invitation to trouble.
“You’re too arrogant!” The man in the straw hat slammed the table, making a fork soar into the air. With a swift wave, the fork shot toward Bran with powerful force.
The attack happened so quickly that ordinary people wouldn’t have time to react.
Sensing the imminent danger, Bran instinctively raised his sword in defense. The fork struck forcefully against the blade, causing his weapon to bend like a bow.
The force knocked him back, making him retreat over ten steps and nearly lose his balance. His hand gripping the sword shook uncontrollably for a moment.
“Bran!”
As the Frostwing Sect disciples witnessed the unexpected twist, their astonishment was clear. A mere fork had compelled Bran to retreat, prompting them to doubt the full extent of his opponent’s strength.
This astonishment wasn’t limited to the Frostwing Sect alone. Even the members of the Embersteel Order were caught off guard.
Despite Bran’s dubious reputation, his strength rivaled Jackson’s. The idea of overcoming such a skilled martial artist with a single strike left everyone in stunned silence. The ponytailed girl hurried over, her face filled with concern. “Bran! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bran reassured, taking a deep breath to calm the turbulent force within him. He shifted his attention to the man in the straw hat. “Mind telling me who you are? What’s your issue with the Frostwing Sect?”
In a determined tone, the man in the straw hat introduced himself, “I’m Aidan Ridge, but you might know me better as Sandscale.”
“Huh? Sandscale? Aidan Ridge?”
The crowd’s expressions visibly changed at his revelation. In the harsh southwestern region, marked by vast desolation, three major sects and five formidable individuals emerged.
The Drakes Dominion Order claimed the pinnacle of power, casting shadows over the evenly matched Frostwing Sect and Embersteel Order.
The influence of the five formidable individuals ranked just beneath that of the major sects. Their strength was comparable to the guildmasters of these influential factions. None dared to provoke them lightly despite their infrequent appearances.
Aidan held a position as one of these influential figures.
When Aidan’s name was mentioned, Bran and Jackson’s expressions changed. It was clear that they recognized Aidan’s considerable strength, a power that likely surpassed the combined abilities of all the disciples in their sect.
“Mr. Ridge, I want to express my apologies for any offense earlier. Please forgive my ignorance,” Bran said, swiftly subduing his arrogance.
He showed respect, acknowledging Aidan’s skill to be on par with his master’s. Bran was well aware that he couldn’t afford to offend him.
“Enough with the flattery. I just want to eat in peace. If you’re hungry, eat. If not, scram. Don’t bother me again, or you’ll regret it!” Aidan declared, showing no patience for further disruption.
“We’re sorry for interrupting your meal. We’ll leave now.”
Suppressing his anger, Bran lowered himself and decisively led his people out. While leaving, he gave Dustin a stern look, suggesting a possible showdown down the road.
