Chapter 556
Deep in Yelem, the sacred city of Dechor, hidden within the Sahar Wastes, Leander rested in the open courtyard pool of the Yelem Hotel. Cool water cradled his body while faint ripples shimmered under the desert sun.
The hotel was busy with nobles, magnates, and elites, but no one dared approach. About 300 feet away, men in black suits stood silently in a line. Every 30 feet, a guard blocked the way. Several newly grown clans of Yelem had organized this, turning the courtyard into a private sanctuary for Leander.
After Leander had crushed the Hermit and wiped out the armed forces along the border, those families treated him like a divine.
Whatever he asked for, no one refused.
Once broke through Ivoria’s border defenses and demolished their air support, Leander quickly turned toward Yelem. The intense confrontation had drained him, and he sought a place of complete silence. Among the vast lands of the Sahar Wastes, only Yelem offered that kind of sanctuary—a place where outsiders wouldn’t dare enter, allowing him to recover quietly.
Thin white marks traced his skin, shallow cuts left by metal beads packed inside rocket shells.
Those pellets had struck harder than rifle rounds.
They had failed to pierce his Devourer Form, yet they still carved faint marks across his flesh. Beneath the clear pool water, the pale scars were already fading, healing at a pace the eye could follow as his skin slowly returned to its natural tone.
Leander floated on his back, arms relaxed and breaths steady. To the naked eye, a gentle glow could be seen enveloping his entire body. It flowed along his skin in steady loops, as though quietly siphoning spiritual strength from the pool.
Eyes closed, thoughts vacant. He remained in that state for a full day and night. Just then, footsteps broke the stillness.
A round-bellied local Yelem man in a tailored suit hurried in, waved through by the guards. He stopped at the pool’s edge and bowed deeply. “Mr. Ashcroft p>
Leander kept his eyes shut. His lips barely moved as his voice drifted out, calm and low. “Give me the latest. What’s changed p>
The man was the chairman of the Yelem Hotel. The great families had ordered him to monitor the International Martial Network and the Global Assassin Network.
“Nothing unusual in Yelem. No strange movement across the Sahar Wastes either. One matter did come up p>
“Go on,” Leander demanded.
The chairman placed a laptop beside the pool. “A video of you went online. It spread everywhere. The whole world is watching p>
Leander paused, then his eyes flew open. “It reached the public? Show me p>
Without a hand gesture, the laptop lifted from the tiles and hovered before him. Once he saw the clip flooding every corner of the web, realization struck. “Agylae… you play a crafty hand p>
Leander did not doubt the source.
That angle could only come from the pinhole lens on the drone he had smashed to pieces.
What he never expected was this. They had thrown the footage straight into the open.
His face was blurred, and the image seemed distant. Nevertheless, it felt as if he had been thrust onto a world stage, vulnerable to countless eyes and at the heart of a global storm. That intention puzzled him more than anything.
What game are you trying to run, Agylae?
Leander visited several Dechor websites and kept seeing the same thing. Every homepage featured the clip prominently locked at the top. The situation struck him as so absurd that he couldn’t tell whether to laugh or sigh.
What caught his eye most were the silly nicknames in the comments-names unrelated to him but spreading quickly.
He let the laptop drift back down and closed his eyes again before saying, “Prepare a full set of medicinal herbs. Rare stock only. The older, the better p>
The chairman stiffened. This was Yelem, not Astria. They didn’t deal in medicinal herbs, but he knew those major families kept hidden private reserves. He nodded promptly and went to fulfill the order. Before long, the poolside returned to silence.
Leander’s spiritual strength kept gathering, drop by drop.
On the International Martial Network, the clip lit another fire.
Old veterans emerged from years of silence.
‘If he can tear down supersonic fighter jets, his strength already surpasses the King Phase masters from a century ago p>
‘History just shifted. A single man crushed an army and walked away. That deserves to be written in blood p>
‘Hah. I said it a month ago-Jeff
ita
already hit King Phase. People
laughed at me back then. So what now? Tanks, jets, the whole army.
still Couch him. To everyone who argued with p>
me before, say
Say it
loud-is Jeff a King Phase master or not p>
Threads exploded. Replies stacked faster than screens could refresh.
Back at the Ashcroft home in
Highcliffe, Ethan sat beside Reginald
in front of a growing screen. “Grandpa, Leander was filmed this time, and the clip is everywhere. Trouble is coming, right p>
The worry in Ethan’s voice was justified.
Martial artists existed, yet most ordinary people had never truly seen that world. This clip dragged it straight into daylight.
Reginald pushed himself up with his cane, offering no reply. He had barely taken a step when a rough coughing sound suddenly blared from the speakers.
Both turned back, eyes narrowing in surprise.
A massive banner stretched across the top of the International Martial Network.
“The King?” Ethan repeated the two words, confusion plain on his face. Reginald froze for a heartbeat, then burst out in sudden disbelief. “The King? King Phase?” Shock rippled through his eyes. “Could this be… the old King Phase Rankings p>
The shock did not stop with the Ashcrofts.
Around the world, every leading martial artist who saw that banner stiffened. The ancient figures who remembered deeper history drew cold breaths, eyes locked on those words.
Deep beneath Europa, a figure pushed open the heavy doors of a hidden palace and stepped inside to face the 16 Supreme Arbiters.
“Your Highnesses, urgent news p>
The middle-aged man in a white shirt moved forward, his tone level and unhurried.
“The King Phase Rankings have surfaced p>
The hall appeared to freeze the
In
moment he spoke. The air grew ice-cold, and sixteen piercing gazes like sharp blades fixed on him. Despite being in his King Phase cultivation he experienced a tight chest and had temporary difficulty. breathing.
From the central throne, a voice rolled out. “Vanfleet. Is this confirmed p>
The middle-aged man in the white robe gave a heavy nod, his expression grave.
Silence stretched.
Then the central voice thundered once more. “Deliver my order. East and West alike, let all hear it. From this moment on, the King Phase Accord stands broken p>