Crack.

With just a little squeeze, Zeb stopped screaming, his eyes wide open even as he died.

“No!!!” Cram screamed hysterically at the sight of his son’s death, his eyes blood red as he bellowed at him, “Frank Lawrence! You will die for this! Kill him!

Kill him!!!” All of Cram’s men whipped out their weapons, their blades flashing blindingly as they charged at Frank.

Hans was about to move, but Frank stopped him.

“Let me show you what it means to have power,” he growled as the air around him swirled violently, his clothes flapping loudly in turn.

He stepped one foot forward, and shot toward the crowd like a bullet.

With a punch, four men were sent flying–there was no way to withstand the weight of a truck crashing towards them.

Even before blades could reach him, Frank would shattered the edges with nothing more than a gentle flake, his pure vigor flowing around him.

Screams ensued wherever he passed, leaving Hans standing there in shock.

“Mr. Lawrence reached Birthright again?” Frank’s cultivation had been crippled before, but he was now Birthright again in just three years, perhaps even stronger than before.

Truly–once a genius, always a genius.

As Frank took down the fiftyish bodyguards of the Larkins in no time at all, there was not so much as a smear of blood on his hands.

It was as if nothing ever happened.

dumbfounded, no longer feeling terror as he only knew

him. “Frank Lawrence, apprentice of Mystic Sky Sect–mention my name

as he lay on the floor. “Mystic Sky Sect? Y– You’re

not supposed to have been killed three years ago,

that the freak

Scarless Gorm recognized him, and that

Hans, who nodded and swung his

it was another name lost from

turned to leave, his hands clasped behind his back. “Keep it clean.” “Understood.” Hans nodded

Larkins were wiped out overnight,

that he and

mansion again… only

Winter asked, still in her pajamas and groggy from sleep as she

and had a perfect figure, accentuated by the black figure– hugging shirt

like Winter in Frank’s house, and she looked young- as

Winter raised a brow. Why

Crack.

screaming, his

at the sight of his son’s death, his eyes blood red as he bellowed at him, “Frank Lawrence! You will die for

weapons, their

to move, but Frank

me show you what it means to have power,” he growled as the

and shot toward

flying–there was no way to

would shattered the edges with nothing more than a gentle

wherever he passed, leaving Hans standing there in

been crippled before, but he was now

genius, always a

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