Novels by Lily Monroe

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

“What? After that brat spat in the Mafia’s face, you want to recruit him instead of striking back?”“Boss, forget avenging Camden Tate—those few sentences alone are an insult we can’t swallow.”The upper echelon bristled, pushing Quentin Newman to rethink. Even Conrad Owen let his smile die. The Five Tigers rose and fell together; Camden’s humiliating defeat left a bitter taste that demanded redress.“Adrian Doyle, a nobody, cripples Camden Tate—and we go to woo him? We lose the upper hand immediately. If he refuses…”Conrad didn’t finish. The thought dragged everyone down. If Adrian spurned the Mafia, their reputation would take a public dent.Quentin understood the risk—and still chose his course. “One Adrian, by himself, means little. But a man with his gifts may draw Lord Buddha’s eye.”They all grasped it now. The Mafia’s current standing was largely thanks to Lord Buddha. And the reason Lord Buddha favored them was simple: they were strong.Constantly bringing in rare talent—tha

The gale from the punch tore through the courtyard like a small hurricane.The ground crazed into a web of fractures; fissures climbed the walls. Ornaments toppled, shards of glass skittered and sang across the floor in a crackling rain.Dust surged up, stinging throats and lungs; it took a few hacking breaths before anyone could see straight again.Silence fell as every gaze hunted for Adrian and Camden Tate.When the scene finally resolved, no one spoke. It wasn’t for lack of words—it was because the sight had stunned them mute.Camden Tate had lost—utterly.He lay sprawled, motionless for a long beat, face mottled with bruises and swelling. Blood trickled from his mouth, soaking his collar. He looked wrecked.His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked on Adrian—who stood there without a hair out of place.It had taken Adrian a single exchange to crush him.Noise rippled around them as the shock loosened its grip.The head of security found his voice first, awe spilling out. “Miss, you’v

Daisy’s urgency spiked; she grabbed Adrian’s arm to stop him. “Are you crazy? He’s not some random thug—he’s a trained fighter. Go inside, now!”Adrian only smiled, a faint lift of the shoulders as he gently moved Daisy aside and stepped forward. “Him? A so-called martial artist? Spare me.”At that, Camden Tate’s brows pinched with irritation. He gave Adrian a slow, haughty once-over. Arrogance was his second skin.To him, this wiry kid barely warranted contempt. He’d already reached the Master Tier. A special forces soldier was one punch to him; what was this string bean?That was the source of his swagger.“The Hill family has its moments,” Camden drawled, “but crossing the Mafia won’t profit you. This punk laid hands on Jefferson—he slapped the Mafia across the face. I can’t ignore that. Otherwise, how do I hold Skyline’s east side? How do I explain it to my men? Miss Daisy, my advice: don’t meddle.”It sounded righteous, but the truth was simpler: the Sanders family paid handsomel

“Told him he was about to die, then fixed it for him. Problem solved,” Adrian said offhandedly.Daisy blinked, baffled.About to die? Problem solved?If he didn’t want to explain, he could’ve just said so—why the runaround?Tch, forget it if you won’t talk. Catching her sulk in the rearview mirror, Adrian was just as confused.Women’s hearts are fathomless. He was only telling the truth—how had that offended her?He clamped his mouth shut. The more you say, the more you risk.Before long, they pulled up in front of a villa, not far from the Hill family estate.Adrian couldn’t help his curiosity. Whoever lived here had to be someone significant.As he wondered, he saw a girl waiting at the gate.She wore a white dress that floated in the breeze, ethereal and strikingly beautiful.Her long white hair lifted with the wind; her skin was so pale it was almost translucent.Adrian was caught, for a heartbeat, by the shock of that beauty—then sensed something wrong.The girl ran toward the ca

In the empty alley, several burly men in black lay sprawled at Adrian’s feet.“Still not talking?” Adrian twisted one man’s arm without expression. Sweat beaded across the man’s brow under the pain.“R-Russell Sanders sent us…”“See? Would’ve been easier to say that sooner.”Adrian shook his head, picked up the bag he’d set aside, and strode out of the alley. He’d barely reached the street when his phone rang.“Hello—”Before he could speak, Freya’s voice tumbled through the line, breathless. “Adrian, I just saw Russell Sanders at our office. He’s here for Miss Daisy again, I’m sure of it. Get back. Now!”“On my way.”He flagged a car and headed for the company at speed.…Hill Group, President’s Office.“Miss Daisy, you look as composed as ever. I wonder if you’ll keep your poise when you see your company’s losses,” Russell Sanders drawled, his greasy smile making the air feel unclean.“If you came only to say that, Mr. Sanders, you can leave.” Daisy didn’t bother to look up at him.

When the employee blurted it out, Stuart Thompson sensed it too.The amulet he wore day and night—the Buddha figure on it had opened its eyes.Worse, a faint chorus of children’s laughter rippled around him. It wasn’t like any laughter he’d heard before. It was saturated with malice.Even standing near Stuart, everyone felt a chill seeping in from all directions.“Help… help!”His eyes bulged.When had he ever seen anything like this? He’d bought the amulet for luck and wealth—now it wanted his life?On the other side, Freya was trembling from head to toe. She’d expected a routine collections call, not this. Scenes from every horror film she’d ever watched flipped through her mind like a stuttering reel.Amid the panic, Adrian simply regarded Stuart with a steady, impassive gaze. The sudden manifestation didn’t ruffle him in the slightest.“Brother—no, Master!”Seeing Adrian stand like a rock in a storm, Stuart crumpled to his knees. Clawing at the amulet, drenched in sweat, he pleade