My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 463: Emissaries from the Harold Family

Ethan's grin expanded further, a sparkle igniting in his gaze. "The effects will become apparent in five days," he declared, his tone firm and brimming with complete confidence.

Seconds later, his face shifted. The amiable expression vanished, and his eyes narrowed sharply, as if spotting something intriguing. A mischievous grin tugged at the edge of his mouth.

"Seems we've got some surprise visitors," he murmured gently, cocking his head like he was tuning into a distant sound. "Let's head over and offer them a fitting greeting."

James arched an eyebrow yet trailed after him without posing any inquiries.

Upon entering the central chamber, the air hung thick with tension and oppression.

Drek remained positioned there, his head bowed so deeply that his chin nearly rested on his torso. Before him loomed two figures who exuded an air of total dominance over the space. Their stance, their faces, even their breathing screamed that they viewed all others as mere subordinates.

Kane lingered composedly. He appeared to be in his forties, with dull eyes devoid of any compassion. Clad in a dark suit that absorbed the surrounding illumination, he stood next to Lucas, who was younger and evidently more impulsive. Lucas wore a pristine white outfit that clashed starkly with the aggression etched on his features. He clutched a pistol, its shadowy barrel jammed solidly against Drek’s temple.

"Why have you ceased responding to our calls?" Kane inquired in a subdued tone. Though not raised, his words pressed down with immense weight. "And why have the tributes halted? I've heard your gang's beggars have stopped their operations. I demand an answer."

Lucas grinned seeing the terror on Drek’s countenance. His finger hovered idly over the trigger. "My elder brother just questioned you," he mocked. "Do you intend to meet your end today? Or are you simply too dim to reply?"

From the dimness by the doorway, Ethan observed the scene with casual interest. He held back from intervening. He desired to gauge Drek’s response to such duress. He required confirmation that the allegiance he had sown had firmly taken hold.

Drek’s hands quivered intensely. His entire frame shook. Yet after several moments, he compelled himself to stand tall. Gradually, he raised his head and locked eyes with Kane’s icy stare. His words quavered initially, but he steadied them to ring out clearly.

"I refuse to serve the Harold family any longer," Drek announced. "And I'm not alone in this. The whole gang shares my sentiment. We won't heed you anymore. Not today, nor tomorrow."

The chamber fell utterly quiet.

Lucas gaped at him in astonishment, his lips parted slightly. Even Kane’s serene demeanor betrayed a brief hint of shock before hardening into a chill, nearly entertained look.

"Is that the case?" Kane whispered mildly. His tone dipped even softer, almost tender, yet it brimmed with impending brutality. "Have you fully considered this? Do you grasp the implications of defying the Harold family? This isn't mere quitting. It's a warrant for death. You're opting for self-destruction. Are you set on pursuing this idiotic choice?"

Drek sensed the menace vividly. It was like unseen fingers clenching around his neck. The atmosphere grew stifling, hard to inhale. Still, he refused to avert his gaze.

"Yes," he affirmed resolutely.

Within his thoughts, he weighed the two. Kane was fearsome. Renowned in the shadows as a merciless executioner who had snuffed out countless existences. To common folk, he embodied a fiend. But Drek had faced Ethan. He had witnessed something profoundly darker and more horrifying. Beside the void he had peered into within Ethan, Kane seemed minor. Utterly trivial.

Ethan observed the interaction with subdued approval. He edged nearer to James and murmured softly.

"James, that fellow in black is a semi martial artist, isn't he? He hasn't advanced to Force Master status yet, but his murderous aura is potent. He's surely claimed numerous lives."

James gave a subtle nod. "That's right. I'm familiar with him. Kane's his name. He holds some notoriety in the lesser criminal realms. He's honed skills in stealth killing that blend ninjutsu with contemporary fighting styles. He's incredibly swift. A regular individual wouldn't get a chance to react before perishing. That's why he's dubbed a demon."

"Take care of him," Ethan instructed evenly.

James pivoted and fixed him with a stare. "Pardon? And what makes you think I'll comply?" His face grew stormy. "I'm no lowly hoodlum of yours. You don't command me. Have you overlooked that?"

Ethan's smile unfurled gradually. "Handle him neatly and swiftly, and I'll toss in an additional pill. Think of it as a reward."

James eyed him for moments, irritation plain in his look. "You're utterly brazen," he grumbled. Then his attention returned to Kane, his form gradually coiling with readiness.

"Should those pills not arrive in five days, Ethan," James warned softly, "I'll bring my kin into it. Though I might not overpower you alone, they'll devise a method. Don't push me."

Having spoken, he advanced.

Right then, Kane sprang into action.

A slender, blade-sharp dagger materialized in his grasp. His motion flowed seamlessly and expertly. He targeted Drek’s throat straight on, aiming to sever life with a single precise strike.

Yet prior to the edge making contact, a palm emerged and seized his arm.

The hold was incredibly firm, akin to iron clamping shut. The dagger halted merely an inch from Drek’s skin, as though striking an unseen barrier.

For the initial instance, Kane’s eyes flared a bit. Across his extensive history of assassinations, nobody had ever blocked his assault with such ease.

James regarded him steadily, nearly indifferently.

"Kane," he stated, his voice firm and commanding. "It'd be smart to depart immediately. When you report back to the Harold family, pass along a warning from me. Instruct them to abandon pursuits against the Black Bull Gang. They might fancy their might, but they're mere minnows in waters beyond their ken. Persisting will bring repercussions they can't manage."

Lucas utterly abandoned his poise.

"What was that?" he bellowed furiously.

Acting on impulse, he lifted his firearm and shot straight at James’s skull.

The shot boomed resoundingly across the chamber.

A vicious smirk crossed Lucas’s features. "You ought to weigh your words before insulting the Harold family," he jeered.

Lucas’s smug grin endured less than a heartbeat. It morphed swiftly into sheer dread.

The projectile, a tiny metal fragment hurtling beyond visual pursuit, had ceased its flight. It hovered suspended in the air. It sat perfectly pinched between two of James’s digits.

James had merely raised his palm and snatched it.

Force Masters operated on an entirely superior plane to typical combatants. They transcended mere bodily power. Their true edge stemmed from manipulating and harnessing force, an inner vitality that amplified all their actions. Through it, they mastered formidable skills and propelled their forms well past ordinary mortal boundaries. Hence their dread across the region.

James possessed a foundational power of about 1.2 tonnes. At that magnitude, halting a rapid bullet barehanded shouldn't have been feasible. The force alone ought to have shredded muscle and skeleton.

Nevertheless, he had discreetly deployed his force precisely at the point of impact. The vitality had enveloped his digits and decelerated the slug sufficiently for a secure grasp. The action was so understated that the majority in the room hadn't detected it.

To James, it felt no harder than snagging a gently lobbed ball.