Facing this all-too-familiar face, memories buried for seven years surfaced in Warren Wang's mind. Back then, Warren was already a peak Martial General and a member of the Southvale Provincial Defense Formation.
At that time, there were six people in the unit.
Warren Wang and the middle-aged man named Romer Luo were comrades who had fought side by side, shedding blood together on the lands of Southvale Province.
Unfortunately.
What happened afterward changed everything.
"Your festering grudge?" Warren Wang stretched out his left arm to shield his sturdy, tiger-headed son, his face iron-blue as he stared at the smiling, tooth-baring Romer Luo.
"How dare you show your face in Southvale again?"
He spoke through gritted teeth.
Across from him.
Dressed in a suit, Romer Luo tugged at his collar indifferently, his gaze cold as he stared at Warren Wang with an equal measure of hatred. "If you hadn't snitched behind my back, would I have been exiled to the border death zones for seven years of endless war?"
"Seven years!"
"Seven whole years—two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days and nights. Do you know how I survived them? Endless martial training, fighting for my life day and night. I finally made it through... After seven years, I've reached the mid-tier Martial Lord Realm!"
With those words spoken.
Romer Luo's face twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing with a cold, murderous light.
Bang.
Warren Wang channeled his precise force, knocking his son unconscious behind him. Then he sneered, "Our squad leader treated you with nothing but kindness, always helping you even at the risk of his own life. But when you deserted in battle, you not only ran—you used our gravely wounded leader as bait, threw him to the Demons, and escaped alone."
"Romer Luo!"
"Don't you feel any shame? Any remorse at all? You must have the heart of a wolf and the lungs of a dog."
He remembered that day—the sun setting in the west, their squad leader dying tragically in the jaws of a Demon.
Even now, that scream still echoes in his ears... Warren Wang knew their leader didn't fear death—what truly tore him apart was the betrayal, being thrown to the Demons by the very comrade he'd cared for, suffering agony in his wounded body.
"Romer Luo!"
His right arm hung empty; Warren Wang's gaze burned like the midday sun.
In truth, after so many years of hardship, he'd learned to mask his emotions. The anger and rebuke now were partly a façade.
Romer Luo's depravity was no longer his concern.
His main concern was his son... After years of fighting, his wife had also died in Defense Formation service. All Warren Wang wanted now was for his son to grow up happy, far away from the Martial Arts World.
Because gaining power always comes with a price.
"Heh."
"You put on a good act. Too bad—I'm a mid-tier Martial Lord now!" Romer Luo sneered, then took three relaxed, almost lazy steps. To the eye it looked like simple agility, but every move was innately fluid and natural.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The two men nearly brushed against each other, but never touched. Their footwork shifted in subtle, almost indescribable patterns, like meteors chasing across the sky.
Even to the ordinary eye, nothing seemed out of place.
But the danger hidden within—perhaps only Warren Wang himself could sense it.
"Burning Steps!"
Warren Wang's body shifted back, his left hand lightly shielding his son. In his mind's eye, he visualized a blazing path through roaring fire, winding and twisting, slipping effortlessly through the sea of flames—a mastery of Burning Steps at Fusion Mastery, executed with absolute precision.
The image surfaced, and his footwork instantly changed.
His muscles, bones, and organs began to vibrate, as if his body temperature had reached its peak. The tip of his foot shattered the stone pavement, his movement light and unpredictable, changing direction five or six times in an instant.
One step back—he nearly couldn't suppress the urge to unleash his Internal Power.
He should die!
Warren Wang roared, "You dare strike in broad daylight, in front of everyone?! That's an iron rule of the Martial Arts World—no need for further explanation."
Romer Luo did not retreat. Instead, he let out a wild, low laugh: "The real reason we can't display martial power in public is to prevent Universal Martial Practice. Do you know why that's forbidden?"
"Heh."
"That's all for today. I'll give you one day to think it over. Tomorrow at dusk, I'll be waiting for you at the western cliff outside Iron Sun Sect."
With those words, he turned away.
Romer Luo walked off.
Warren Wang's face turned iron-blue as he stared at Romer Luo's receding figure. His fists clenched tight, then slowly loosened. In a low voice, he asked, "What do you want?"
Clack.
The car door opened.
Romer Luo stood at the edge of the street, leaning against the car door, not bothering to turn back. His voice drifted coldly: "I want you to crawl up the cliff on your knees, kowtow three times, then sever your left arm in front of me. Only then will I release your son."
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Since your right arm is gone, your left arm should go too!
Humph.
Romer Luo snorted coldly, then carried Warren Wang's son into the car, not bothering to look back at Warren... Seven years ago, he was an Iron Sun Sect Martial General elder. Now, returning to Southvale Province, he's already an Iron Sun Sect Martial Lord elder.
"He should die!"
"Romer Luo!"
Warren Wang's gaze burned like wildfire as he stared at the car pulling away, but for the sake of his son's life, he never made a move. Only when the vehicle disappeared at the end of the street did he finally collapse to the ground, utterly exhausted.
The spring breeze was gentle, but the sunlight felt cold.
Around the street, passersby whispered quietly about the scene.
"Sigh."
Warren Wang covered his face, letting out a long breath.
The seven-year-old grudge—he no longer cared about right or wrong. But now, Romer Luo was using his son as a bargaining chip.
"What should I do?"
I'm a Defense Formation officer; Romer Luo wouldn't dare kill me. But my son is just a relative—if something happens, the punishment would be limited. Romer Luo wouldn't hesitate.
Warren Wang suddenly felt as if he'd aged ten years, shuffling back to his teahouse.
Sigh, sigh.
He brewed a cup of tea, took a light sip.
If he severed his left arm, but Romer Luo still refused to release his son—what then? With Romer Luo's cruel, vengeful nature, his wolf heart and dog lungs, and his history of betrayal—Warren Wang couldn't guess his true intentions!
"No. I can't trust Romer Luo easily. If I could save my son, losing my left arm would be nothing. But if I lose my arm and still can't save him... Looks like I have no choice but to ask Andrew Han for help."
After muttering a couple of sentences, he took a deep breath.
In truth...
Back in February this year, Andrew Han officially left Group Nineteen, his martial power already far beyond the Martial General Formation's standard.
But the problem was—would Andrew Han be willing to help him?
Romer Luo was now a mid-tier Martial Lord. Not only that, he was an elder of Iron Sun Sect. Who would risk offending such a man for a cripple like me?
Thinking this, Warren Wang's face grew even more haggard and old.
After losing his right arm, his martial power had sharply declined.
Friends who were once close had already begun to drift away, their enthusiasm gone. In the Martial Arts World, everything is measured by strength—it’s not just talk.
Even his own son had been kidnapped—who else could he rely on?
Warren Wang took another sip of tea, a bitter smile on his lips.
He was about to stand, but suddenly heard hurried footsteps outside the door.
"Boss Wang! Boss Wang!"
A middle-aged man burst in, panting heavily, his face flushed red.
Warren Wang frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Something happened!"
"What is it?"
"Boss Wang, there’s a big fight outside the Iron Sun Sect!"
Warren Wang was stunned. "Who's fighting?"
"I don't know, but the commotion is huge! Martial power is surging everywhere. The elders from Iron Sun Sect have all come out, and the Defense Formation officers too. Boss Wang, you'd better go take a look!"
Warren Wang’s heart thumped. He rushed outside, only to see a crowd gathered at the western cliff.
He squeezed through the crowd, and saw a group of Defense Formation officers standing at the front.
A man in black robes stood at the center, his aura overwhelming.
It was Andrew Han.
Andrew Han’s expression was cold and detached, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
Romer Luo stood opposite him, face twisted with rage.
The crowd buzzed with excitement.
"What's going on?"
"Andrew Han is challenging Romer Luo!"
"A duel between Martial Lords!"
"I heard Andrew Han used to be a Defense Formation officer, but now he's a Martial Lord too!"
Warren Wang squeezed forward, heart pounding.
Andrew Han’s voice rang out: "Romer Luo, you’ve gone too far. Release the child, or face the consequences."
Romer Luo sneered: "You think you can stop me?"
Andrew Han stepped forward, his aura surging.
The crowd fell silent.
Romer Luo’s face darkened. "Fine. If you want to fight, I’ll oblige."
The two Martial Lords faced off, tension crackling in the air.
Warren Wang stood at the edge of the crowd, hope flickering in his eyes.
He prayed silently: Andrew Han, please win...
For the sake of his son, for the sake of hope.