The Crippled God of War Rises

You Are Not Worthy

The harbor of the city was shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog.

Twelve massive black ships sat silently on the water, their hulls cutting through the waves like sharks. On the deck of the lead ship, a man with a golden eye stood looking at the city’s skyline. This was Leo, the "Mercenary King."

"Is the target still at the hotel?" Leo asked, his voice sounding like grinding stones.

"Yes, King," a subordinate bowed. "The Asura Marshal has revealed his identity to the Mayor. He is no longer hiding."

Leo laughed, a sound full of bloodlust. "Good. A God of War should die in the light. Send the First Apostle. Tell him to bring me Drake’s head before the sun rises."

---

Back at the Vance Villa, the atmosphere had changed.

The broken doors had been replaced by reinforced steel. Soldiers from the Black Legion patrolled every inch of the grounds. Inside, Drake sat in a simple wooden chair, his eyes closed.

Elena stood nearby, watching him. "Drake... you said you were poisoned. If you keep fighting these people, will you die?"

Drake opened his eyes. They were calm, but deep within them, a storm was brewing. "The 'Yin-Soul Poison' burns my meridians every time I use my power. But Elena, there are some things more important than life."

"Like what?" she whispered.

"Dignity," Drake said. "And the promise I made to your grandfather."

Boom!

The ground suddenly shook. A massive explosion rocked the front gates.

"Marshal! An intruder!" the Blood General’s voice came through the intercom. "It’s only one man, but... he’s a monster! Our bullets are bouncing off his skin!"

"Let him in," Drake said, standing up. "He’s a Martial Master. Your guns are just toys to him."

A moment later, the steel doors of the hall were torn off their hinges like they were made of paper. A giant of a man, seven feet tall and covered in scars, walked in. He carried a massive iron pillar on his shoulder. This was the First Apostle, "The Iron Bull."

"So, you’re the legendary Asura?" Iron Bull laughed, his voice shaking the chandeliers. "You look like a frail scholar! I can crush your skull with one hand!"

Iron Bull swung the iron pillar. It whistled through the air, carrying enough force to level a house.

Drake didn't dodge. He didn't even raise his arms.

"A Martial Master at the 'Iron-Skin' stage?" Drake shook his head. "You are not worthy of making me move my feet."

Clang!

The iron pillar hit Drake’s chest. But instead of Drake being crushed, a sound like a giant bell echoed through the villa.

The iron pillar... bent.

It wrapped around Drake’s body like a piece of soft tin, but Drake himself didn't even move an inch. Not a single hair on his head was out of place.

Iron Bull’s laughter died in his throat. His eyes widened until they almost burst. "Impossible! My pillar is made of refined steel! Even a tank would be flattened! Who... who are you?"

"I told you," Drake said, stepping forward.

Every step Drake took caused the floor to melt slightly from the heat of his Qi.

"You are a frog at the bottom of a well, trying to look at the sea."

Drake reached out and grabbed the iron pillar with one hand. With a light twist, the massive hunk of metal snapped into a dozen pieces.

"Since you like iron so much," Drake said, his voice cold as a grave, "you can become a part of it."

Drake tapped Iron Bull’s forehead with a single finger.

Thump.

The First Apostle didn't scream. He didn't fall. He simply turned into a statue. The massive amount of Qi Drake had injected into his body had turned his blood and bones into solid stone instantly.

"General," Drake called out.

The Blood General rushed in, sweating. "Yes, Marshal!"

"Send this 'statue' back to the harbor. Tell Leo that if he wants to die, he should come himself instead of sending rubbish."

Drake turned back to Elena, whose face was full of disbelief.

"Get some rest, Elena," Drake said, his eyes turning toward the harbor. "Tomorrow, the ocean will turn red."