The warm scent of incense had barely faded from the room when Lyara Ashworth stood, her silver-streaked hair catching the morning light like a blade drawn in silence. She adjusted the sleeve of her deep charcoal robe and looked at her son, eyes unreadable.
"The Patriarch is waiting in the Punishnt Hall. Let’s go," she said, voice clipped and emotionless.
Lyara brought Ryan to a spacious courtyard in the Varkhan Family Estate.
Instrunts of torture lay scattered around the vast courtyard like spiked rods, flensing whips, and iron nails arranged like surgical tools.
Everything was placed ticulously. Nothing here was symbolic; everything was ant to break. The instrunts glimred nacingly under the harsh light, carefully arranged to instill fear and command respect.
This is where punishnt in the Varkhan Family was carried out.
The Punishnt Hall!
The Hall rose ahead like a silent executioner’s block, its black stone walls towering against the noonday sky. Inside, elders, disciples, and inner family mbers had already gathered. Rows of stone seats ford an arena around a central pillar—thick, ancient, and etched with dark red stains from past decades.
It was exactly noon. The sun hung rcilessly overhead, casting stark shadows and heat that bit into the skin.
The Punishnt Hall was surrounded by the disciples of the Varkhan Family; they eagerly gathered as if to witness a spectacle, relishing the rare opportunity to enjoy the show for free. This was not an everyday occurrence, and the air crackled with a mix of anticipation and morbid curiosity as they awaited the proceedings.
The tension was palpable, each spectator acutely aware of their place in the hierarchy of the family and the gravity of what was about to transpire.
They were ready to enjoy the show for free.
At the center of it all, bound to that punishnt pillar under the burning sun... was Kelric Varkhan.
His face had turned red from the heat, sweat pouring down his temples. His robes were torn, his mouth dry, arms locked behind him in spirit-sealing chains. The enchanted cuffs left faint burns where they touched his skin. His once-smug expression had warped into sothing wild, sothing desperate.
At his side stood two middle-aged n. On his left side stood a man with Towering, broad-shouldered, and thick with old muscle; his presence was oppressive even in silence. A long, jagged scar ran diagonally from his left temple to the edge of his chin—an old wound that never fully faded, given to him in battle decades ago, and one he wore like a badge of honor.
He had an expression of rage when he noticed the arrival of Lyara and Ryan.
"Is that... the second elder’s son?"
"He was nearly killed two days ago..."
"How is he standing already?"
"Wasn’t that the Eighth Grade Vital Rejuvenation Pill they used on him?"
"The family’s precious Eighth Grade Vital Rejuvenation Pill has such a strong effect!"
" Yes, I was there when Ryan was carried away, half-dead, but now, after taking the Eighth Grade Vital Rejuvenation Pill, he’s back to being full strength and vitality."
One by one, the disciples of the Varkhan Family began to whisper to one another as they noticed the arrival of Lyara and Ryan.
"Patriarch!"
Lyara brought Ryan over to greet the middle-aged man on the left.
"Second Elder, regarding today’s matters, my son Kelric was in the wrong. On the other hand, your son is fine now, while my son has been suffering in the sun all afternoon. Can we let him go now?
"At that mont, the middle-aged man with a jagged scar, Fifth Elder Drezan of the Varkhan Family, wore a dark expression.
Who would have thought that Lyara wouldn’t even bother to respond to him and would simply ignore him?
Lyara brought Ryan in front of the bound Kelric.
"Ryan, it’s now ti to repay him in the sa way he injured you earlier!"
Hearing the words of Ryan’s mother Kelric, he was terrified and entered a frenzied state while roaring in terror, "Dad, save !"
Fifth Elder Drezan snarled, his teeth bared. "Lyara! Don’t go too far!"
She turned to him slowly, her voice steady and controlled. "Too far?" she echoed, her eyes darkening. "Normally, your son bullies mine in public. Because his cultivation is weaker, I turned a blind eye. I accepted that a few scrapes and bruises were inevitable and that it might even temper my son."
Her eyes narrowed, glinting like cold steel.
"But this ti," she continued, her voice turning icy, "your son beat mine within an inch of his life. Without provocation. And you dare suggest we simply ’put the matter to rest’?"
"Ryan, don’t hesitate—attack! Today, I want to see who dares to stand in my way of disciplining this junior!"
Lyara’s voice was filled with the valiant spirit of a heroine. Despite being a woman, the commanding presence she projected was just as powerful as that of a man.
"Patriarch."
Drezan turned to the Patriarch standing beside him, hoping he would intervene for so sense of justice.
"Fifth Elder, today’s issue is a private matter between you and the Second Elder. I hope you can resolve it privately," the Patriarch said, shaking his head.
"So you’re the one who beat him into such a miserable state," Ryan muttered to himself.
Slap!
Without saying another word, he stepped forward and slapped Kelric.
"Ryan... if you have the balls, let down and we can fight one-on-one!" Kelric growled, nearly howling. Half of his face was swollen, and his eyes glinted with a cold, fierce light.
"One-on-one fight? Sorry, I’m not interested... As for whether I have the balls or not, why not let your sister co to tonight? After nine months, you might have a little nephew." Ryan laughed as he spread out his hands and indifferently shrugged his shoulders.
Gasps echoed throughout the courtyard.
Even the elder disciples were stunned.
Ryan stepped back, flexing his fingers to ease the sting. He glanced at the tied-up Kelric, whose expression remained impassive despite the earlier slaps. There was sothing eerily calm about him, as if he’d weathered many storms before.
"Maybe you’re made of leather or sothing."
When the surrounding Varkhan Family disciples saw Ryan’s actions and heard his words, they were left speechless.
The other guy was already tied up like a punching bag for him to hit, but he still complained that he was made of leather?
Reviews
All reviews (0)