While Enoch Bernard was sweating nervously, his wife suddenly spoke up as if possessed by some reckless spirit, “Enoch Bernard! Are you crazy? He’s just a perverted creep! Why are you doing this? What kind of commander is he? You are the commander, remember? This guy groped me-your wife! Aren’t you going to do something about it?”
Without a second thought, Enoch Bernard turned and slapped his wife hard across the face again. This time, the slap was so forceful that it knocked her to the ground, blood spilling from her mouth.
The viciousness of the blow sent chills down everyone’s spine. This was his wife he had just been defending moments ago, but now, he had struck her twice in public! Onlookers were stunned by this complete reversal.
Enoch’s eyes burned with fury as he gritted his teeth and shouted at his wife, “Do you think someone like you would catch the eye of a commander? One more word from you, and I won’t hesitate to kill you right here.”
Maybe only Enoch would describe his wife like that. To anyone else, she was nothing short of a top-tier beauty. Though not quite on par with the stunning Sariah Faulkner, she was still far more attractive than most celebrities. She had the kind of figure and face that could make any man fantasize just from one glance. Certainly not someone to be dismissed as an ordinary woman.
Some of the onlookers, especially the men, could barely stop themselves from drooling, thinking, “If you don’t want her, give her to me!”
Enoch shot his wife a murderous look, then hurriedly knelt down on one knee before Kayden Scott. His voice trembled with fear as he said, “Defender, my foolish wife has offended you. It’s my fault for not keeping her in check. Please, Defender, punish me!”
With those words, Enoch closed his eyes, his face filled with regret and dread. He didn’t dare beg for mercy, knowing that even Fletcher Atkinson’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears before Kayden Scott. What hope did he have?
On his knees?
Enoch Bernard, a regional commander, was kneeling before this man in front of everyone.
The crowd was stunned. Who on earth is this guy? They wondered, feeling their scalps tingle in fear. Enoch, a man with such authority, was cowering like this.
Kayden Scott’s mere presence-young as he was-seemed to exude the right to command the world, a natural dominance that was terrifying to behold.
Kayden looked at Enoch with a slight frown. If they had been on the battlefield, Enoch’s wife would have been dead by now for insulting him, the Defender of the South, King of Seclela.
But this wasn’t a war zone-it was a bustling city. Her lack of discipline had earned her those two slaps, and that was punishment enough.
The reason Enoch was so terrified was because he had witnessed Fletcher Atkinson coldly execute Nathan Atkinson before Kayden Scott. Enoch feared that the same fate could befall his wife.
Without a word, Kayden walked up to Enoch and helped him to his feet. “It’s fine,” he said. “I have something for you to take care of.”
Enoch’s tightly clenched muscles relaxed a little, and his heart, which had been pounding wildly, began to calm. If Kayden Scott was asking him to handle a task, it meant the incident was behind them. Clearly, the Defender wasn’t someone to hold petty grudges-perhaps he was just a strict leader.
Enoch took a deep breath and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Cautiously, he asked, “Defender, are you referring to the task the Greedy Wolf mentioned? Don’t worry, I’ve already stationed men there, and I’ll personally oversee it. It’s an honor for me and my family to serve you.”
Kayden raised his hand to cut him off. “No, that’s not it. I want you to check the identity of the corpse on the rooftop of that building.”
Enoch looked up at the tall building in the distance, frowning slightly. He wanted to ask something but held back. “Understood,” he said instead.
Kayden said no more, his expression cold as he strode through the crowd.
Enoch’s wife, finally snapping out of her shock, burst into tears. “Divorce, Enoch Bernard! I want a divorce! You hit me-right in front of all these people!”
Enoch shot her a furious glare but offered no explanation. He simply instructed his subordinates, “Take her home.”
With that, he gathered his men and headed toward the building.
Once on the rooftop, they found the body lying there, just as Kayden Scott had said. Enoch wasn’t surprised at first-he had absolute trust in Kayden’s word.
But as they inspected the body, Enoch’s face grew more serious. The corpse belonged to none other than an S-Class wanted criminal from Seclela-the infamous assassin, Poison Wolf.
For five years, Poison Wolf had evaded capture, hiding abroad and never stepping foot into Seclela. No one had expected him to infiltrate this deep into the heart of the country, much less die here in such a quiet manner. The discovery left Enoch breathless.
Poison Wolf wasn’t just any criminal; he was a highly dangerous operative, a top-tier figure among mercenaries. Though not quite a kingpin himself, he was a key lieutenant to many of them. His string of crimes had left Seclela fuming, but no one had ever been able to track him down-until now.
“Poison Wolf! Commander, this is Poison Wolf, Seclela’s S-Class wanted criminal!” an experienced soldier exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. He had been part of an investigation into the assassin years ago and knew of his habits. Recognizing him now, he couldn’t hide his surprise and elation.
Enoch nodded slightly but remained anxious, pacing back and forth. Finally, he asked, “How did he die?”
One of the soldiers, who had been examining the body, stood and reported, “Sir, he was shot. A single bullet from an M98B sniper rifle. The shot came from below, through an eight-times scope, and hit him directly in the head. Instant death.”
Enoch’s brows furrowed deeply as his gaze shifted toward the spot where Kayden Scott had been standing. After a long silence, he asked in a low voice, “Did he fire a shot?”
The soldier checked the gun’s ammunition and replied quickly, “Yes, sir. He fired once.”
Enoch’s brow creased even more, forming a deep, tense line across his forehead.