His Lordship Alexander Kane

Chapter 0454 Deep into the night, a chilling wind whispered through the desolate northern cliffs. At the base, an eerie, long-forgotten wooden shack stood, its door creaking open under the careful hand of Quinby Yanker. He slipped inside, his movements as silent as the shadows that danced across the walls.

That was the place, the exact location Zane's note had led him to.

The interior of the shack was a testament to neglect, with cobwebs every corner and decades-old decor buried under a thick blanket of dust. It was clear no soul had set foot there in ages.

"Thirty years ago, that was a hideout

for the Black Maple," Quinby murmured to himself. He paused, pulling out a northern map and marking it with a stark red 'X' before shaking his head and heading back to the door.

His every sense was on high alert. As a proud practitioner of the Divine Ape Backbreaking Fist and a protege of Zane, Quinby had been on many such missions, each executed flawlessly.

This night would be no different.

He had been vigilant since stepping into the shack, his focus razor-sharp, ready for any hint of danger. However, as he moved to leave, nothing had seemed amiss—until that final moment.

In a heartbeat, Quinby felt a shiver of premonition. Without a second's FT

into action, his fist launching with the force of a

fundamental move of his martial art, swift and devastating. It was a strike that could shatter steel, aimed at the

was unexpected—a

might as well have been an unbreakable wall of the toughest alloy, snapping his wrist bone clean through. The jagged ends of the bone jutted out

a nonchalant flick of his left hand, he ripped off half of Quinby's right arm. Then, with a

managed to force out a plea, "Mercy, sir, you've got it all wrong..." A misunderstanding? "Divine Ape Backbreaking Fist, and you're from the Yanker family, yet you claim a misunderstanding? Ha!" The shadowy figure scoffed and

room for Quinby to explain. With a

He tossed the lifeless body aside as if it were nothing, sending it flying

me." He turned northward, his wild, blood- red eyes flashing menacingly from

imposing, crouched on powerful legs and leaped an astonishing forty meters, racing towards Yewspire

was a stark contrast of light and dark. One side was relatively untouched, the other a map of scars, as if mauled

base of Yewspire Mountain, within the solemn walls of the Yanker family's