Chapter 3: Blood for Blood

Words : 2228 Updated : Feb 28th, 2026

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Inside the Oldakers family villa in Zerton, faces blanched. The moment that tall figure stepped in, the temperature in the banquet hall seemed to drop several degrees. Sharp inhales rose and fell in waves. Everyone's gaze snapped toward him. He looked no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Sword-straight brows. Star-bright eyes. A hard, icy calm set into his features. Cold light flickered in his stare, and killing intent rolled off him like heat from a blade. It was Brock Yale. "Y-You…" Vera Oldakers stared at him, the face in front of her aligning with the refined, clean-cut features in her memory. For a second, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Y-You're Brock Yale?!" "Brock…" Vienna Scurr's body jolted. She clenched her teeth against the agony in her abdomen and forced her head up. "Vienna." Brock froze for a heartbeat, then lunged forward in a single step, plunging straight into the ring of Oldakers bodyguards. He caught Vienna and hauled her up. A flash of gold flickered in his hand. In the next instant, several golden needles were already sunk into key acupoints across her chest and abdomen. Then, as casually as if he were setting a sleeve straight, he reset the broken bone in her leg. Clean. Seamless. All in one breath. Relief washed through Vienna at once. "Vienna," Brock said softly, looking down at her. His eyes held nothing but tenderness, as if everyone else in the hall had vanished. "Thank you. For setting up spirit tablets for my family, and for paying your respects." "Brock… it really is you. Thank God… you're alive!" Vienna stared up at him, joy breaking across her face so suddenly it hurt. Tears pooled in her eyes. She threw herself into his arms, her fragrant, delicate shoulders trembling uncontrollably. Something rippled through Brock's still-water heart. He lifted a hand and gently stroked the waterfall of hair at the back of her head, his voice warm and steady. "It's over. I'm here. No one's hurting you again." "Brock! You didn't die?!" Onyx Scurr and Leona Warth went rigid. Around them, the guests erupted into stunned whispers. "He's the Yale family's son… Brock Yale?!" "The Yale family was wiped out ten years ago. He survived?" "Then why come back? Isn't that just suicide?" Vera's brows drew tight. She snapped, "Brock Yale! Well, well… you're still breathing?!" "Someone! Take him down!" "Yes!" Oldakers bodyguards surged in from outside. "Brock! Be careful!" Vienna panicked, trying to pull free from his arms. "Shut up, you slut!" Vera glared at Vienna, teeth grinding. "Say one more word and I'll sew your mouth shut!" Brock's gaze turned glacial. "Who gave you permission to speak to my fiancée like that?" He flicked his hand. A gust of palm wind swept across the table beside him, snatching up a pair of chopsticks. "Whip!" The hall blurred for an instant. The chopsticks punched straight through Vera's cheek. Blood sprayed, mixed with broken teeth. Her mouth filled with the raw stench of iron. "Ahhh!" The pain hit like a drill through bone. Vera let out a shriek fit for slaughter. "Vera!" Pierce Oldakers' eyes went red. He pointed at Brock and roared, "Kill him! Kill him!" The bodyguards finally snapped out of it and rushed Brock all at once. Brock gave a short, contemptuous laugh, moving calmly through the storm of fists and kicks. "Pierce Oldakers, don't rush. Let me deal with these little minnows first. Then I'll take my time with you." He eased Vienna into Onyx Scurr and Leona Warth's arms, then walked toward Pierce step by step. No one could stop him. Any bodyguard who dared close the distance left with a shattered arm or a broken leg. Pierce's confidence cracked when his men couldn't touch Brock. His hand drifted toward his waist on instinct, but with a hall full of guests watching, he hesitated. Then he turned to a middle-aged man in a black training uniform beside him. "Master Andre! I'm counting on you!" Andre Helwick. One of Zerton's ten great experts. A former military instructor. After retirement, he had been recruited under the King of Zerton and had racked up achievements time and again. "Boss Oldakers, don't panic," Andre said, rising. His tall frame and thick muscle carried its own pressure. He pointed at Brock and barked, "The Oldakers family is hosting a banquet, and you come barging in to cause trouble?" "Why don't you tie your own hands and come forward to beg forgiveness!" Brock swept him with a glance, expression flat. "Wrongs have their maker. Debts have their owner. I'm here to avenge the Yale family. Outsiders should stay out of it." Andre's smile turned cold. "The Oldakers family is one of Zerton's great clans, with deep ties to the King of Zerton." "Touch them, and you're making an enemy of the King of Zerton." "Kid, have you thought about the consequences?" Brock didn't bother answering. A razor-sharp chill flashed in his eyes. "Anyone who blocks me dies." He ignored Andre completely and stepped straight up to Pierce. "How dare you!" Andre snorted, furious. His body flickered, and he was suddenly in front of Brock, his loose uniform rippling without wind. "Whip!" A vicious punch tore through the air for Brock's face. "Bang!" Brock lifted a hand and caught the heavy blow as if it were nothing. Then he raised his other palm and pressed it to Andre's chest. "Pff!" The strike looked soft, almost gentle. Andre, however, felt as if a speeding freight train had slammed into him head-on. Ribs snapped in a chain. His organs convulsed. Blood burst from his mouth. He flew backward. "Y-You… you're an Earth Realm Warrior…?" Before the words even finished, Andre Helwick went silent. "Hiss…" The hall sucked in a collective breath. Martial artists were divided by strength into Heavenly Realm, Earth Realm, Mystic Realm, and Yellow Realm. Each realm was further split into four stages: entry, intermediate, advanced, and peak. And Brock Yale, at barely twenty-something, was an Earth Realm Warrior? "Impossible!" Pierce flung an arm out, glaring at Brock. "You're only in your twenties. How could you possibly have Earth Realm strength?" "Even if you vanished for ten years and trained day and night, at most you'd reach the Mystic Realm!" "You can't break into the Earth Realm that fast. Absolutely impossible!" Andre Helwick had been over forty. Only last year had he finally broken through the Yellow Realm bottleneck and stepped into the entry stage of the Mystic Realm, yet he had been crushed in a single exchange. That was why people suspected Brock might be an Earth Realm Warrior. But to Pierce, who didn't understand the martial world, it was unthinkable. Brock was simply too young. It went against the common rule of cultivation, the so-called "ten years for Yellow Realm, thirty for Mystic Realm." Even a genius couldn't reach the Earth Realm in ten years. No. It couldn't be. By the time the guests recovered from their shock, Brock had already finished off the last bodyguard. He strolled toward Pierce. Pierce's face drained. He yanked a pistol from his waist, the black muzzle snapping up to Brock's head. He bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Heh. Yale brat! Didn't see this coming, did you? I've got a gun!" "Take one more step and I'll blow your brains out!" The hall erupted. Pierce Oldakers had an illegal firearm? Guests scattered in panic. Bullets didn't care who they hit. Brock paused, disdain written plainly across his face. "So what if you have a gun?" "I said the Oldakers family would pay blood for blood." "Today, none of you are leaving alive." He started forward again. "Y-You…" Pierce's voice shook as he tried to steady it. "Are you out of your mind?" "This is a gun. A gun!" "All I have to do is move my finger and your head pops like a melon!" Brock's lips curled. "Is that so? Then shoot." Pierce glanced at the fleeing guests, sweat beading across his forehead. "Don't push me. There are too many people here. I don't want to kill someone in public." "But if you take one more step, I won't care anymore!" The moment Pierce drew the gun, Vienna's heart leapt into her throat. She didn't want Brock hurt. Even though she hated the Oldakers father and son to the bone, she still pleaded on instinct, voice trembling. "Brock! Don't! Move, please!" Vera, her cheek skewered through, grew wildly excited instead. She gargled through blood and shouted, "Dad! Shoot him! He ruined my face! I want his life!" Brock acted as if he hadn't heard either of them. He kept walking toward Pierce, one measured step at a time, a faintly mocking smile playing at his mouth. Pierce's anger detonated. *Fine. Let's see you dodge this.* Even if Brock really was an Earth Realm Warrior, at this distance there was no way he could avoid a bullet. "Go on," Brock said, eyes full of provocation. "Shoot." Pierce swept his gaze over the guests, then over the groaning bodyguards sprawled on the floor. Finally, he hardened his heart and screamed, "You asked for it, Brock Yale! Die!" "Bang!" The gunshot exploded. A bullet spat from the muzzle flash, screaming straight for Brock's forehead…

Chapter 3: Blood for Blood

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