The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 406: Three People Were Killed in an Instant
Chapter 406 - 406: Three People Were Killed in an Instant
The King of the Bloodshed Palace was stunned.
His blood-drenched palm had landed squarely on John's chest—but John didn't move.
The only visible change was the playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
How could this be?
The King of the Bloodshed Palace frowned deeply.
At first, he thought John hadn't reacted fast enough. And even now, John hadn't deployed any kind of shield or defensive technique.
So how the hell did John withstand his attack?
The red-faced king's complexion darkened further, turning purplish. Unwilling to accept this, he struck again with full force.
But John didn't budge.
This time, true panic surfaced in the king's eyes. It wasn't an illusion—John had genuinely resisted his Hand of Bloodshed.
Twice.
Realizing something was terribly wrong, the king tried to retreat instinctively—but John grabbed his wrist, still smiling.
"Old man," John said, casually, "your massage technique sucks."
Then, with a simple twist—
Crack!
Hiss!
Blood spurted into the air.
The red-faced man's hand was... gone.
Not crushed.
Not mangled.
Severed.
Cleanly.
From the wrist down, the flesh, bone, and blood had been sheared off as if by a blade.
The king stared at the stump in disbelief for a long second before a scream burst from his lungs—raw and animalistic, like a pig being slaughtered.
His legendary Hand of Bloodshed—the very technique he'd honed for decades—was gone.
Destroyed by a man younger than his own apprentices.
Who the hell was this guy?!
The red-faced old man howled in pain, drawing the attention of the other two kings.
Their eyes snapped to the scene, pupils constricting.
"What the hell happened?!"
They hadn't seen anything.
Their focus had been completely on Hanson, who was locked in a duel with Thomson. Hanson's fighting style was calm, elegant—almost mesmerizing. It had shattered their preconceptions of what battle looked like.
So composed.
So graceful.
So... stylish.
A suit-wearing thug, indeed.
As for John?
They hadn't spared him a second glance.
After all, the red-faced old man was more than capable of killing a random punk. Why watch a one-sided execution?
But then—
That scream.
That severed hand.
That fear.
Everything changed in a heartbeat.
"That guy's not normal!" the red-faced king shrieked. "Kill him! The two of you—attack together!"
Snapped out of their daze, the other two kings instantly charged toward John, eyes filled with cold intent.
"I'll kill you!" one roared.
John's smile disappeared.
His body flickered—and vanished.
In the next instant, he reappeared behind the King of the Yaksa Palace.
"I hated your creepy face the moment I saw it," John muttered. "You go first."
With one hand, he grabbed the king's neck.
The Yaksa king's face went pale, lips trembling. But before he could react—
Crack!
His neck snapped to the side like a twig.
Dead.
"You're next."
John's voice was cold.
He flashed toward the short, fat King of the Pluto Palace and raised a hand.
The Pluto king froze, watching in horror as John blurred into motion.
So fast.
Only now did he understand how the Hand of Bloodshed had been destroyed. This wasn't just some random hothead—this was a monster.
"Dodge!" the king screamed internally.
He didn't want to fight. He just wanted to survive.
He leapt back—
But John was faster.
Like a ghost, John's hand followed, unrelenting.
Crack!
John's palm landed on the king's skull.
His head split open like a melon.
Dead.
Now, only the red-faced king remained.
Watching both of his comrades get slaughtered within seconds, the king was petrified.
His knees trembled. His mouth opened.
"Mr. Hanson! Help—!"
But before the words could finish, a flash of light pierced straight between his eyebrows.
Plop!
The red-faced man dropped.
Dead.
A neat, bloody hole gaped from the center of his forehead.
His eyes were wide open in death—bulging with disbelief.
In that final moment, he finally understood why John was so terrifying.
That flash of light...
It wasn't martial energy.
It was the breath of a cultivator.
When did a cultivator start meddling in the martial arts world? Wasn't that beneath them? he wondered in confusion as the darkness swallowed him.
A question he'd never get to answer.
From the moment John broke the man's wrist to the moment all three kings lay dead, only seconds had passed.
One second.
One kill.
Three seconds, three corpses.
When Hanson finally realized what had happened, the carnage was already complete.
Thomson, still fully focused on battling Hanson, had no chance to react—until he noticed Hanson suddenly frozen.
Surprised, Thomson followed Hanson's line of sight.
What he saw made his whole body tremble.
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The three kings... dead?
Killed by that young man—John Lopez?!
Thomson looked at John, eyes filled with complex emotion. It was unbelievable—but it was the only explanation.
"You think you're elegant?" John's voice cut through the silence.
Then came a loud, sharp smack—
Hanson flew through the air like a rag doll.
