The King Of War Returns

The Madwoman's Grave

The leader of the gang, Paul, was the worst of them all. Out of everyone Agatha hired to guard the grave, he was the most vicious. He’d crippled people just for showing up with flowers.

He pulled out a cigarette, and one of his men lit it for him.

“Damn it,” he muttered, exhaling smoke. “Today’s Mr. Thornfell’s birthday and his engagement party. I should be swimming in champagne and girls—not digging up some madwoman’s grave.”

Another thug stepped toward Jaden with a sneer. “You hear that? Mr. Paul’s in a foul mood. So here’s your only chance—get on your knees, apologize for trespassing, and maybe we’ll let you walk. Otherwise, you’re leaving here in pieces.”

Jaden didn’t move. His jaw clenched, his heart boiling with rage.

The thug spat on the grave.

Ptew!

“Nice shot,” Paul laughed, and the others joined in, their laughter echoing across the cemetery.

Paul strode closer, his boots crunching the dry grass. “Come on, kid. Do what he said. Get on your knees. Or stay standing and get buried next to her.”

The man who spat leaned in mockingly. “What’s wrong? Never seen a man spit before?”

But Jaden had reached his limit.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the man by the collar and slammed his face into the rocky ground.

Crack!

The man screamed, blood spraying from his mouth as four teeth scattered across the dirt.

The others froze in disbelief.

Did he just lift that guy with one arm?

Jaden’s eyes locked on Paul. Cold. Ruthless.

“You,” Jaden said, his voice cold. “Lick it up. Every last drop.”

The injured thug whimpered on the ground, blood pouring from his mouth.

“P-Paul! Help me! Please!”

He tried to crawl away, but Jaden stepped down hard on his ankle.

SNAP!

Another howl of agony pierced the air.

“You crazy bastard!” Paul shouted. “Do you know who I am?!”

He turned to the others. “Don’t just stand there—take him down!”

One of them rushed at Jaden with a shovel, swinging it like a baseball bat.

Before the weapon got close, Jaden grabbed it mid-air, twisted it out of the thug’s hands, and sent the man flying across the graveyard with a swift strike.

The thug landed with a crash, groaning as he struggled to breathe.

“You—what are you?!” Paul took a shaky step back.

“I told you,” Jaden said, voice like thunder. “Lick. It. Off.”

The injured thug didn’t wait for another warning. Shaking, he dragged himself to the grave and began licking the spit away.

The others looked on, stunned and terrified.

Then—roaring engines.

Seven Hilux trucks pulled up in a synchronized line. The back of each was packed full of bricks of pure gold, gleaming under the sun.

Uniformed men stepped out, standing at attention as if they’d done this a thousand times.

Jaden gave a single command. “Start.”

Immediately, the men got to work.

Before anyone could react, the air shifted again—seven long limousines rolled in, and behind them came military transport trucks.

Doors opened, and over a hundred armed soldiers stepped out and marched in formation toward the grave.

Without hesitation, they dropped to one knee in front of Jaden.

Paul’s jaw fell open.

The other thugs stumbled backward.

“What the...”

“Is this a movie?”

“Who is this guy?!”

The soldiers bowed their heads in unison.

“My king!” they thundered.

Jaden nodded. “Begin.”

“Yes, my king!”

The trucks began unloading. Gold. Equipment. Tools.

“Use all of it,” one soldier barked. “This grave will be rebuilt in gold—exactly as ordered.”

Paul could barely breathe. “Gold? For her? Is this guy insane?!”

“I don’t think he’s insane,” another thug whispered. “I think he’s powerful.”

“I’ve never seen this much wealth in one place…”

“And he’s spending all of it... for a dead woman?”

Jaden walked slowly to the grave and knelt, brushing the dirt gently from the tombstone.

“Mom,” he whispered, “you always wanted a beautiful life. You used to tell me, ‘Jaden, one day you’ll be rich and you’ll buy me a castle.’”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes burned.

“I’m sorry. I was too late.”

He stood, fists clenched.

“But I’m not too late for revenge.”

His voice hardened, turning to steel.

“Agatha White. That witch. I’ll drag her to this grave. She’ll kneel here. She’ll cry for forgiveness. And I’ll make her pay for every damn thing she did to you.”

He stared down at the men still frozen in place.

Jaden’s eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl.

“What were you just saying?”

His presence alone made the air feel heavier, charged with raw, murderous intent.

Paul dropped to his knees immediately, trembling.

“P-Please! Spare us! We were just hired help—I swear! Elder Dusk sent us! He’s from the Thornfell family… He’s also Miss Agatha’s personal bodyguard!”

Jaden’s expression shifted slightly.

“Thornfell family…” he muttered. “So that witch actually pulled it off. Manipulative as ever—marrying into power.”

For a brief moment, his silence made Paul think he'd struck a nerve. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

He hesitated. He’s afraid… I knew it.

Paul straightened slightly, encouraged by the shift.

“He’s scared,” he whispered under his breath. “Anyone would be after hearing Elder Dusk’s name…”

Elder Dusk wasn’t just a bodyguard. He was practically family—an elite fighter, feared and respected across the region. His reputation was legendary. Ruthless. Unbeatable. No one in their right mind would stand against him.

Not even this guy, Paul thought confidently. No matter how strong he looks, Elder Dusk would crush him.