Novels by Lily Monroe

“I am Sean, the Steel Gun King of Siam!”“I am Mario, the Battle Axe of Siam!”“I am—”Adrian waved a hand, impatient. “Spare me the introductions. To me, you’re already dead men walking. Names don’t matter.”His words snapped the six of them like a whip. They roared and charged.Adrian stood his ground at the center of the arena. A golden barrier flared around him, solid as a sunlit bastion, swallowing the storm of their assault.These six were stronger than those before—one at the very peak of the Mythical Tier, the others at mid-Mythical. Together, their onslaught was something even the three vice chairmen wouldn’t dare take head-on.Yet Adrian endured it—flat-footed, unharmed. The shield didn’t so much as quiver.“This kid’s strength is absurd. Someone this powerful and this young—we’ve never even heard of him,” Vincent Adams breathed.“Absurd or not, he dies here,” Walter Simpson said, eyes like ice.It was plain now: Walter Simpson and Victor Reed had set their hearts on killing

“What you’ve done—never mind the Kingdom of Siam—even within our own Novaland Republic Martial Association, you will not be easily forgiven.”Adrian burst into wild laughter.It was laughter steeped in scorn, laced with a bleak, simmering fury.He pointed at Conrad Tate and the others standing off to the side with folded arms, watching the spectacle, and his voice rang out like iron striking stone. “Who slaughtered the innocent? Who sinned first? They know the answer better than anyone.”Conrad Tate’s reply was cold as steel. “Boy, you murdered the venerable master of the Ivory Elephant Temple of Siam and countless monks. That is an ironclad fact. What’s left to argue?”The dead could not speak, and the earth had already claimed them. He did not believe Adrian could possibly exonerate himself now.In Novaland, the dead are to be honored.“Aren’t you curious?” Adrian’s gaze swept across them. “Then I’ll lay out exactly what happened. Remember this: I, Adrian, am not afraid. I am restor

“You showing up here today is disappointment enough,” Iris Lloyd said coldly. “If there’s nothing else, you should leave.”Caught between loyalty and duty, Benson Doyle and his two companions stood in an impossible spot. They trusted Adrian more—but they were men of the Association. At this point, there was no good choice.They sighed, said their farewells, and left the villa.The night passed without incident. Early the next morning, Adrian meant to go to the capital’s Association alone, but Octavia and the others insisted on accompanying him. He relented and brought them along.At the airport, Daisy calmly straightened his collar. “I can’t stop you from doing what you’ve decided to do. I only want one thing—that you come back safe.”Adrian kissed her cheek. “I promise.”Near noon, they landed in the capital.The moment they stepped off the plane, four members of the capital branch were waiting for them.Adrian’s mouth curled into a dry laugh.Benson Doyle greeted them awkwardly, the

“This is beyond insulting,” Vincent Adams snapped. “We should meet them head-on and be done with it!”The other two hurried to restrain him.“Mr. Adams, don’t be rash,” Victor Reed urged, glancing at Walter Simpson. “It isn’t worth igniting a martial conflict between two nations over an unknown youth. Better to hand him over.”Walter nodded. “Agreed. If this escalates, many disciples will be hurt. That’s on us.”Vincent exhaled hard, bitterness etched on his face. “Fine. Have it your way.”They left the study to find Conrad Tate standing at the door, all arrogant poise. The sight stoked their ire.“Well? Have you decided? Surrender the man or prepare for war.”Victor shot Vincent a look, then forced a smile. “Fighting over a matter like this would be foolish. We’ll hand him over. But you must give us a few days. We—”“Days?” Conrad cut him off. “We don’t have time to waste. We want him by noon tomorrow. I trust you know what to do.”He swept them with a warning glance and strode off.

“But judging by their bluster, it can’t be anything good.”The young disciple’s addendum only deepened the elders’ confusion.There was little overlap between Siam and the Novaland Republic in martial affairs. Why appear out of the blue now?“Let’s go and see. We’ll answer move with move,” Vincent Adams said.The other two agreed, and the trio strode out.At the gates, they met the incoming party head-on: Conrad Tate, president of Siam’s Martial Association. He cut a fearsome figure—near two meters tall, skin like oiled teak, cords of muscle straining his clothes.Nine experts from the Siamese association trailed him, along with a dozen monks.It was, unmistakably, a show of force.The three vice presidents exchanged a look, none the wiser.“Welcome, welcome,” Vincent ventured. “Guests from afar are always an honor.”“This is how you receive guests in the Novaland Republic?” Conrad shot back. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”The rebuke left the trio awkward.“Of course—this way, pl

“Since when do you take to the skies halfway through a fight?”The more Adrian thought about it, the more it irked him.Everyone he’d run into these past few days either vanished at will, flew off, or relied on some trinket to escape. It felt like all three were merely probing him—none seemed truly intent on taking his life.Which made their aim all the harder to read.“Heh. Kid, you’re strong, I’ll give you that. We’ll call it here for today. Next time, I’ll play with you again.”With that, the man simply beat his wings and lifted away.Chasing was pointless. Adrian turned back to Richard Ingram.“Mr. Doyle, what sort of freak did you manage to offend? I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen a real person sprout wings and fly!”“You’re asking me? Who should I ask? Brother Ingram, save the commentary. Let me treat your injuries first.”He worked quickly. Superficial wounds were easy enough to mend.Richard then ordered his driver to take Adrian back to the hotel. “Mr. Doyle, if an

A tidal blaze unfurled between heaven and earth, and within the flames—“Holy Emperor…”The warriors of the Solar Kingdom froze.This moment—This was the end.Their power swelled, vast and violent.From all directions the distant onlookers—those who had kept their distance—felt their hearts lurch.The Holy Emperor had fallen.The great factions witnessing it didn’t even dare show their faces.“Kill!”“Kill that brat!”The Solar Kingdom’s elites were enraged.At once they broke into furious curses.In an instant, the crowd drowned in wrath.The strong of the Solar Kingdom were terrified.No one hesitated.All of them lunged to kill Dragon-Slayer and Anthony.“You really want to die together?”The next moment—Anthony struck once.A swath of top-tier experts exploded, their bodies smashed to pieces.Squelch!Some heads spun off into the air.Dead.The Holy Emperor had been killed.But they… were powerless.They could not keep fighting. If they did, the entire Solar Kingdom might be gro

Dragon-Slayer grunted, swallowed the pain in his seams, and rose into it, the sword-edge cutting a white arc.Beside them, Thirteen Smith muttered a curse. “Stupid kid.” The Holy Emperor only sneered, eyes full of scorn.Dragon-Slayer didn’t answer, his grip biting down. “Hnh. I’ll carve you up.”He fought with everything, every stroke meant to kill. Anthony watched, his gaze shifting—he seemed to read the intent, and held his tongue.Boom—the air rolled like a tide swallowing the field. The Holy Emperor’s rampage had passed understanding; each strike was huge and ruthless.A heartbeat later, the gale rose again. His offense poured like a rain-screen, fists and palms crossing, killing intent spearing the clouds. He was a hammer overfilled with thunderfire—blow after blow grinding down.Dragon-Slayer braced in a flash—swordlight fierce—meeting edge with edge.Boom! He staggered back several steps, heart pounding, a flicker of disbelief breaking through his eyes. Why? What in hell did h

Dragon-Slayer dropped lightly to the ground; a tap of the heel, dust settled. He raised his eyes to the figure standing high above, gaze cold, voice low but heavy enough to hold the field.Though his chest still heaved, he ground out each word: “I’m not afraid of you.”“Today, I’ll defeat you—and kill you.”“The Solar Kingdom will never be a match for Ardenia.”“Your warriors are garbage.”The Holy Emperor laughed softly, a rasp like a blade dragging over stone. “You’re sure? Sure you’re not afraid? Then today, I’ll cut you to pieces.”Dragon-Slayer stepped in instead of back, a short drive of the foot, his body tipping forward, killing intent sliding free like a naked edge. He lifted his head and met the sword-hard gaze above, unflinching.The cold in his eyes cut sharper than steel. “To me, you’re—nothing.”“Today, you die.”“I will kill you.”“You think that boy can really keep you safe?” His words fell like a war banner rammed into open ground, snapping in the gale. Wind licked hi

“Y-you—why are you this strong…”Anthony’s mouth pulled into a cold curve. “It’s not that I’m strong. It’s that you’re useless.”Before the last syllable faded, he surged upward, a raptor cutting through knives of wind and sleet, and stooped.Boom!Explosions flowered across the sky, force scattering like invisible hammers pounding the void. Killing intent poured down like a tangible blaze.He raised another fist. Before it even landed, the gale at its edge flayed the dust to air.Bang!The Holy Emperor’s chest was punched straight through. Blood burst like a flower. His armor shattered; a hideous hole tore open across his front. He was blasted backward, blood running in a steady ribbon from his lips, his eyes wide with a terror that couldn’t focus—grasping at reality’s edge and finding nothing.The rim of the armor writhed, trying to stitch itself—futile against the gaping wound.He lifted his gaze in disbelief, and for the first time, true fear flooded his eyes—the primal dread of t

He pulled a breath, dragging his sight back from the dark. He looked up into the Ardenian youth’s face—indifferent, eyes like a winter lake, unruffled.“Your strength isn’t bad,” Anthony said, mild, with a flat contempt folded into it. “Unfortunately for you, you’re facing me. Which makes everything you do useless.”He tipped his chin, the cold at his eye’s corner cutting sharper. “So this is the Solar Kingdom’s best? No more than this.”Contempt, complete and entire.“In all martial ways, speed breaks all.” He sheathed in one clean motion, his pace itself a declaration. The Holy Emperor was fast—unquestionably. But he was facing Anthony. That alone sealed his tragedy.In a handful of exchanges, Anthony had hammered the Holy Emperor’s confidence to splinters. He had never imagined the man before him could be this absurdly strong. Terror—there was no other word in the minds of those watching.To Anthony, it was nothing. His gaze stayed cold; his killing will drew tighter.The Holy Empe

The heaving air over the four quarters suddenly sank. A darkened silhouette dragged itself out of the heights of the sky, like a deeper thread of night within the night, easing toward them. It had no sound, no scent; even the grain of its aura felt sanded smooth—more secret than a ghost, like a frost-sheathed dagger settling wordlessly to the throat.A heartbeat later, a figure fell from the heights. He touched down without a sound, yet his presence tore the silence around him. It was a tyranny that needed no words; with just an inch of ground underfoot, hearts clenched.“Holy Emperor!!”“The Holy Emperor is here!”“Lord Holy Emperor, a god forever…”“Lord Holy Emperor, mighty and unyielding!”“We can kill these Ardenians now…”“We must kill them…”The boiling shouts surged like oil set alight, raising the temperature of every throat at once. The Holy Emperor revealed himself—a man in his middle years, features unassuming, but a severity honed to lethal stillness. When his gaze droppe