The King Of War Returns

Chapter 9

Meanwhile Outside the entrance.

The injured mercenaries watched with excitement.

“Crush him, boss!”

“Rip him apart!”

“Show him what real strength looks like!”

Hogan roared and charged.

The axe came down in a brutal arc, fast and violent—enough force to cleave stone.

Jaden didn’t dodge.

He raised one hand.

CLANG!

The axe stopped dead.

Hogan’s eyes widened.

Jaden had caught the blade—with his bare hand.

The courtyard went silent.

“W-what…?” Hogan muttered, muscles straining as he tried to pull the axe free.

Jaden didn’t even flinch.

“This is your strength?” he asked calmly.

He twisted his wrist.

CRACK!

The axe shattered.

Metal screamed as the blade snapped in half, fragments scattering across the ground. Hogan stumbled back in shock, staring at the broken weapon in his hands.

The cheering mercenaries froze.

“That’s… impossible…”

“He broke the axe…”

“With his hand?”

Before Hogan could react.

BOOM!

Jaden drove a single punch into Hogan’s chest.

The sound echoed like a cannon firing.

Hogan’s massive body lifted off the ground and slammed backward, skidding across the courtyard before crashing through the entrance doors of the building, shattering them into splinters.

The mercenaries couldn’t believe their eyes. “He defeated Hogan with one punch?”

Inside the hall, guests screamed.

“Argh! What happened?”

“How did this giant land here?”

“Is that Hogan?”

“The King of Strength… dead?”

“Impossible…”

Footsteps echoed.

A lone figure walked through the broken entrance, daggers dripping with fresh blood.

Jaden raised his head, eyes cold.

“Bring me Agatha!” He said out loud.

At the VIP lounge above, Derek nearly choked on his wine as he watched the scene unfold.

“W-what the hell?” he sputtered, standing up abruptly. “Elder Dusk—who the fuck is that guy? How dare he cause trouble on my birthday?!”

Dusk’s expression darkened. His jaw tightened, anger and disbelief burning behind his eyes. No one—no one—should have been able to walk into the Thornfells’ hall and humiliate them like this.

“I’ll go take a look myself, young master,” Dusk said coldly, placing his hands behind his back. “I’ll expel him immediately.”

Derek’s eyes flashed. “I’m coming with you.”

As they appeared at the entrance of the hall, the atmosphere inside immediately shifted.

“Mr. Thornfell is here.”

“He came with Elder Dusk, this stranger is in trouble.”

“Finally he’ll know his place.”

The guests whispered among themselves.

Jaden straightened slowly.

The air around him seemed to darken.

Derek Thornfell stepped forward, his expression dark and furious, arrogance burning in his eyes.

His entire life, people had bowed when he spoke. Guards obeyed. Enemies begged. Even elders advised with caution. And yet—this man had dared to challenge him and crushed his subordinate like nothing.

Rage consumed him.

He marched forward, eyes blazing.

Then he swung.

The punch was fast, fueled by humiliation and fury—but it never landed.

Jaden caught his wrist midair.

Effortlessly.

The sound of skin tightening echoed as Jaden’s grip closed like iron. He stepped closer, towering over Derek, and lifted his eyes.

They met.

Derek froze.

His breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs. It felt as if he were staring into an endless abyss. A fear he had never known clawed up his spine, paralyzing his limbs.

Jaden stared directly into Derek’s eyes.

Then—

Smack!

The sound was sharp and thunderous.

Jaden’s palm crashed across Derek’s face, sending him flying backward. His body twisted midair, nearly slamming into the floor before Elder Dusk moved swiftly and caught him just in time.

The hall erupted.

Gasps turned into screams.

“He hit him…”

“He actually hit Derek Thornfell!”

“That’s impossible…”

“No one has ever laid a hand on him!”

Guests stumbled over themselves trying to retreat. Some felt their knees trembling in panic, others pressed against pillars, their faces pale as death.

Jaden stood where he was, his expression remained the same.

“Who do you think you are,” he said coldly, his voice carrying across the hall, “to raise your hand on me?”

Derek groaned.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as Dusk lowered him gently to his feet. A tooth clattered onto the marble floor, rolling to a stop in front of stunned onlookers.

Derek stared at it in disbelief.

His face burned with pain and humiliation.

He had wealth. He had power. He had influence that could crush families overnight—but none of it mattered here. He wasn’t a fighter. Never had been. He had always stood behind guards, elders, and his family name.

And now that name meant nothing.

“Young master, are you alright?” Dusk asked, his voice steady, though his eyes had darkened.

Derek wiped the blood from his lips with a shaking hand. Rage overtook reason. His face twisted into something ugly and desperate.

“KILL THAT BASTARD!” he roared, pointing at Jaden.