His Lordship Alexander Kane

' Chapter 0655 { Was Alexander truly a legendary supreme grand martial? The answer was a resounding no.

He was not just any supreme grand martial. He was the undefeated Lord of War, the mightiest warrior revered worldwide, standing four whole levels above any Grandmaster.

"He's done for. He's a dead man!" Five meters away, the Gray Wolf's blade I arced through the air, his eyes locked onto Alexander's, alight with a fierce excitement.

He had landed the perfect ambush.

Alexander, coffee in his right hand, casually tapped the hotel's service counter with his left, seemingly oblivious to the attack.

~ No reaction? That spelled doom.

y Faced with such a surprise attack, even a deadly strike from an Apex of —= Grandmaster would mean certain death for someone, even a Peak Supreme Grand Martial, caught off guard without any defenses! However, then...

"A sneak attack? Bold move, but sadly, it's too feeble." Alexander's left index finger curled slightly. Without sparing a glance at the descending blade, he tapped the counter and said, "You're looking for a swift end? I'll oblige.

"You'll die fast, and painlessly." As his voice faded, his fingertip lightly struck the counter, emitting a crisp 'snap'.

Suddenly, the air in the hallway seemed to seize up. The blade's trajectory

crumbled before it could graze Alexander.

\ However, there was more.

With that simple flick, Gray Wolf felt no shift in the air, yet his chest caved as if hammered, his bones and organs shattering. I He could not even scream. His body was \ flung back, slamming into the corridor wall, then dropped to the floor with a ‘snap’, limbs convulsing briefly before he lay still, dead.

"What?!" A short distance away, the two remaining Grandmasters and a crowd of over a hundred muscular men were frozen in shock, their eyes wide as they gazed upon Gray Wolf's lifeless body. It was as if they had seen a specter; they simply could not . believe what was before them.

Gray Wolf, dead? I The formidable Grandmaster, second

+ only to the notorious Quinto, the \ unchallenged right-hand man of their entire operation, had perished without a whisper of resistance, his end shrouded in mystery.

How had he fallen? What did Alexander do? Alexander was no ordinary supreme grand martial. No one of that state could wield such fearsome strength! "Dying by my hand is a privilege," Alexander declared. He had just stepped out from behind the service counter, casually holding a cup of coffee in his j right hand. After taking a small sip, he gazed calmly at the horde before him and said disinterestedly, "If you're eager for the same privilege, I won't hesitate to oblige." Privilege? The word sent a shiver through the crowd. Even the Grandmasters were yon edge, their teeth clenched in a grimace as they bellowed, "Guys, we fight!

"He's only one man, and we are many!" \ "Even if he's a peak supreme grand martial, how many can he take down? Whoever's left standing must avenge our brothers. No retreat, we'll bury him under our numbers!" "Charge!" I "Attack!" i With that, the men cast aside any last shred of doubt. Their weapons—a whirlwind of sabers, clubs, and knives — descended upon Alexander like a tempest.

Sea of Humans technique! The narrow hallway, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, was jam-packed. The crowd surged forward, each person driven by a feverish determination, launching a frenzied charge at Alexander! "Ants, no matter their number, are still just ants,"

Alexander cradled his coffee, eyeing the \ ragtag mob before him. With a casual flick, he sent a spray of coffee droplets flying, his voice devoid of feeling. "Dying by my hand is an honor you don't deserve." The droplets scattered. Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Those tiny beads of coffee, light as air yet seemingly filled with boundless force, struck the two Grandmasters leading the charge, effortlessly piercing their guts, and then, unstoppable, they tore through the ranks, impaling over 100 burly men.

Not a single one was spared.

123 men, including two martial arts Grandmasters and a cadre of over 30 I warriors wielding vital energy, were I devastated by those minuscule droplets.

. Their cores were shattered, their inner channels and organs quaked, and their hard-earned powers were utterly destroyed.

It was a fate worse than death.

y For those hardened fighters, accustomed to the taste of blood on their blades; losing their powers was a torment more excruciating than death itself! "No, this can't be, it just can't!" On the floor, two Grandmasters curled up, clutching their torn bellies, looking up at Alexander who stood just a breath away, their voices quaking with fear.

"Turning droplets into arrows, leaves into blades... You're not just a supreme grand martial. You're a wielder of the spirit energy Martial Overlord!" Martial Overlord? Alexander ignored the two so-called Grandmasters, draining his coffee cup in one final gulp. Towering above the worthless crowd, he asked in a hushed tone, "Where's Quinto? "You might as well fess up, It's a small

+ island, and I can easily sniff out his \ hideout. However, if you disappoint me, I'll be in a foul mood. And when I'm in a foul mood, people tend to die. So..." He locked eyes with one of the Grandmasters, his lips curling into a sly grin, "Shall we begin with you?" The Grandmaster shuddered, his legs turning to jelly.

Moments ago, he was a top-tier Grandmaster, arrogant and proud. Then, stripped of his powers, he was less than a commoner, his arrogance gone with the wind.

"Mister Jabs... I mean, Quinto!" He was quaking, his voice quivering, "Quinto's on the west coast of Coconut Wind Island, by the seaside promenade. It's a tourist spot, and he's..." He stopped abruptly.

As he uttered 'seaside promenade’,

+ Alexander's form blurred and vanished before him, leaving only his words lingering in the hotel hallway.

"Get off Coconut Wind Island and don't ever come back. Or it'll be your end, no second chances."