Vengeance of The Reborn Heir

The Slap That Shattered Pride

With each item spoken, the tension in the room climbed.

Benedric’s eye twitched.

Several elders nearby exchanged wary glances.

Just hearing Ronan list the first few items, they already knew the value far exceeded the total wealth House Sable had accumulated over the past century.

If they really had to return all that, House Sable’s power would shrink by eighty percent or more!

Even Lucien’s expression shifted slightly. The list was far more substantial than he’d expected.

The hall was quiet, but the pressure was mounting.

Ronan’s tone sharpened.

“What’s the matter? You sever the bond, and now hesitate to return what came with it? Or does House Sable intend to breach its honor?”

The words struck like stones.

But before Benedric could speak, Calista stepped forward, arms crossed, her voice icy.

“It was a relationship, not a business contract. Don’t be ridiculous. No woman would return such gifts after ten years of engagement.”

Lucien immediately followed. “Calista’s right. No real man would ask for those things back. It’s petty and disgraceful.”

Just the thought of returning that much was painful—even if it wasn’t his.

And he still hadn’t received the B-grade extraordinary weapon Benedric had promised him. How could he possibly accept that?

Ronan’s eyes grew colder.

“So you really mean to keep what was never yours to begin with?”

Benedric’s patience snapped.

“That’s enough!” he barked. “You’ve said your piece. Now get out. You won’t be getting anything back. And consider yourself lucky I’m letting you leave after the way you humiliated my daughter and me.”

His gaze burned with disdain. “Be gone, Ronan Crowne. Before I lose my temper.”

Return all that wealth? Impossible!

He had no intention of giving it back, and what could Ronan possibly do—force him?

No, Ronan wouldn’t, right?

Benedric truly believed that Ronan—the timid boy who once groveled at Calista’s feet—would do as told.

He was sorely mistaken.

Ronan laughed.

A quiet chuckle at first, then louder, cutting through the tension in the room like a crack of thunder.

His shoulders relaxed as if he were watching a farce unfold.

The elders of House Sable frowned, confused and uncomfortable.

What was so laughable?!

Calista looked startled. Lucien narrowed his eyes.

Benedric’s fist slammed down on the arm of his chair.

“Enough!” he shouted. “Silence, you insolent brat!”

But Ronan simply raised a hand.

In a flash, a chair of shadow-forged energy appeared beside him.

He sat down with elegance and calm, crossing one leg over the other, as if he were in his own estate and not surrounded by a hostile clan.

He rested his arm on the chair’s edge and tilted his head slightly.

“You speak to the heir of House Crowne like a tavern drunk lecturing a merchant’s apprentice,” he said softly.

“So let me ask again—who are you, Benedric Sable, to speak this way to me?”

The insult hung in the air like smoke after a fire.

Gasps rose from the side hall.

Benedric shot to his feet, rage coursing through his veins. “You insolent fool! You forget your place!”

“I don’t,” Ronan replied evenly. “But I wonder if you’ve forgotten yours.”

Benedric’s aura exploded.

Red and gold spiritual energy crackled around his body like lightning preparing to strike.

“I’ll drag you back to your father myself!” he roared. “Let’s see what he has to say about the son he raised!”

And with that, he vanished.

One blink—he was gone.

Then, a shockwave.

The air howled. The floor cracked. Benedric’s silhouette burst forward, Rank 7 might blazing.

The younger members of House Sable couldn’t even track his movement. The elders braced for impact.

But Ronan?

He didn’t move.

He didn’t blink.

He merely whispered, “Slap.”

From thin air, a ghostly hand appeared—translucent yet radiant with terrifying might.

It descended with divine speed and unrelenting force.

SMACK!

A violent crack echoed through the chamber.

Benedric’s body slammed into the marble tiles with bone-shaking force.

The floor beneath him shattered into a spiderweb of fissures. Blood splattered across his robes.

A set of teeth clattered across the floor.

A bright red handprint burned across his cheek.

Gasps. Silence. Then utter disbelief.

Ronan remained seated. Unmoved.

And then, above them all, a glowing figure slowly descended—shrouded in golden energy.

A true Rank 8 Gold Master had arrived!

Cloaked in a power so ancient and overwhelming that even the air seemed to bow in reverence.

Everyone stared, frozen in awe.

And Ronan... merely smiled.

The silence following the thunderous slap was short-lived.

In an instant, chaos erupted across the main hall of House Sable.

Calista Sable staggered backward, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Lucien Cross clenched his fists beside her, staring in shock at the towering figure that now stood calmly beside Ronan Crowne—a man exuding the terrifying aura of a true Rank 8 Gold Master.

A Master of such caliber, appearing here?

How come?!

Panic rippled through the room.

Benedric Sable, still reeling from the brutal strike, groaned and tried to rise.

Blood poured from his mouth, several teeth shattered.

His once-imposing form looked pitiful as he struggled to gather spiritual energy from the air, clawing his way out of the cracked floor.

Benedric finally lifted his head and looked up, dread heavy in his eyes as he addressed the elder.

“Who... who are you? Why are you interfering in Sable family matters?”