“What’s going on?” Ignatius Clark had just taken off his coat when he heard the commotion outside. He paused, then made his way to the hall. The moment he saw who it was, a smirk spread across his face.
“Well, well, the bastard of the Clark family has finally shown up.”
“Ten years, and you’re still the same pathetic wretch.”
“Reeks of lowlife filth.”
“Break his legs first.”
With that, Ignatius Clark turned and headed toward the side room, not even bothering to acknowledge Flynn’s presence.
The moment Flynn laid eyes on Ignatius, a murderous aura engulfed the entire Kaur family estate. Ten years ago, he stormed into the Clark family home, intending to confront Tessa Watson. But that woman framed him, claiming he had tried to assault her. She tore open her clothes, pretending to be the victim, and Flynn was accused of attempting to violate his stepmother.
That day, the Clark family had beaten him mercilessly. The scars that crisscrossed his back were the handiwork of Paxton Clark, who had lashed him over a dozen times with a whip, each strike delivered with lethal intent. The whip had even snapped under the force.
Ten years had passed, but the sight of the Clark family still stirred a deep, unrelenting hatred within Flynn.
“Kneel, boy!” Two bodyguards charged at him. They were martial arts experts, their movements swift and powerful, their fists cutting through the air like a gale.
Boom! Boom!
Two deafening crashes echoed through the hall.
The two bodyguards were sent flying, blood spraying through the air. Their jaws were shattered, and they collapsed behind Ignatius, their bodies crumpled like boiled shrimp, unmoving.
Blood pooled beneath them, flowing from their broken jaws.
Ignatius Clark gasped.
Dead? Just like that?
How was this possible? Flynn was supposed to be a weakling, someone they could crush without a second thought. These two bodyguards were skilled fighters, more than enough to handle anyone in Niarak. Yet, in the blink of an eye, they were defeated.
“Ten years, and you’ve learned a few tricks, huh? You’ve been training, haven’t you? Trying to avenge your pitiful mother, is that it?”
“Too bad, a bastard will always be a bastard. No matter how hard you try-”
Before he could finish, Flynn’s fist shot forward.
Crash!
Ignatius Clark felt as if he had been hit by a freight train. His chest caved in, and he was sent flying into the side room, slamming against the wall before collapsing onto the floor. Blood gushed from his mouth as he lay there, writhing in agony.
Flynn followed him inside.
He saw Madeline Kaur, her clothes disheveled, her face streaked with tears. His eyes narrowed with fury.
He grabbed Ignatius Clark by the leg and dragged him back into the hall, leaving a trail of blood on the pristine white floor.
The sight was horrifying, gruesome.
Ignatius trembled, his eyes wide with fear. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Flynn was supposed to cower, to beg for mercy. At most, he might have dared to mouth off a few insults. But this? This was a storm of violence he had never anticipated.
This wasn’t the same Flynn who used to cry when bullied as a child.
“Flynn, you bastard! If you dare touch me again, I swear I’ll have you ground to dust!”
“Let me go! Let me go…”
Ignatius choked on his own blood, his body convulsing. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood. He was a pitiful sight.
The hall was filled with the metallic stench of blood, the floor slick with it. The scene was nothing short of terrifying.
“Flynn, stop! He’s a member of the Clark family! Don’t do this!” Max Kaur shouted, his voice trembling with fear.
He was terrified. Flynn looked like a demon, his eyes bloodshot, his entire being radiating a cold, murderous intent. If this continued, Ignatius Clark would die right here, and the consequences would be catastrophic. Not only would Flynn be killed, but the Kaur family would be destroyed.
The Clark family was like royalty to the Kaurs. They couldn’t afford to cross them.
“Flynn, why are you being so violent? Stop! Stop!” Paulina Johnston screamed, her voice hysterical.
She had only wanted Flynn to come and face justice, not to attack Ignatius Clark. In her mind, this was how it was supposed to go-Flynn would surrender, beg for mercy, and take the blame. She never imagined he would fight back.
Flynn ignored them all. He grabbed a chair leg and pressed it down onto Ignatius Clark’s hand.
Crack!
The sound of bones breaking echoed through the hall.
Ignatius Clark’s hand was crushed, the flesh mangled, bone fragments jutting out. It was a gruesome sight.
Brutal.
Horrifying.
Inhuman.
That was everyone’s first thought.
Flynn was merciless, completely disregarding Ignatius Clark’s status. It was as if his mind was consumed by nothing but revenge.
Madeline Kaur stumbled out, her vision blurred by tears. She took in the horrific scene and collapsed to the floor, overwhelmed by despair.
She had thought the Clark family would never return to Niarak. After all, ten years ago, Ignatius Clark nearly beat Matteo Kaur to death. She believed the feud was over.
But now, a decade later, the Clarks were back, and they had crossed paths with Flynn. The conflict had escalated far beyond anything she could have imagined, and the Kaur family was once again caught in the middle.
“Ahhh!” Ignatius Clark’s screams reverberated through the hall, his voice filled with pain and rage. He stared at his ruined hand, his entire body trembling with fury.
“You’re dead! When I get back, I’ll tell Tessa Watson everything. She’ll send her best assassins to kill you!”
Thud!
Flynn stomped on Ignatius’s head, slamming his face into the floor. His jaw shattered on impact.
“The Clark family can send whoever they want, but the Kaur family stays out of this. Understood?” Flynn ground his foot into Ignatius Clark’s other hand, the bones cracking.
Ignatius Clark’s left hand was reduced to pulp.
Max Kaur and the others were in a panic.
Flynn wasn’t just trying to kill Ignatius Clark-he was torturing him, slowly and methodically.
“Matteo, do something! Stop this madman!” Max Kaur shouted.
Matteo Kaur was barely conscious, his injuries too severe. But hearing the commotion, he forced his eyes open and called out to Flynn.
“Flynn, stop! We can’t afford to provoke the Clark family. Please, let him go!”
But Flynn was beyond reason. He lost his head, driven by bloodlust. The pleas of the Kaur family fell on deaf ears.
Ignatius Clark nearly killed Uncle Matteo. Did he really think he could walk away unscathed?
“I asked you a question. Are you deaf?” Flynn didn’t stop. He brought his foot down on Ignatius Clark’s shoulder.
Crack!
Another bone shattered.
Ignatius Clark’s right arm was completely useless now.
“Ahhh!”
“Flynn, you’ll pay for this! Just wait until I get back to Slatin-”
Ignatius’s voice was filled with venom, his pain fueling his hatred. But Flynn wasn’t listening.
“Wrong answer. You’re not going back to Slatin.” With a cold, murderous glare, Flynn raised his foot and brought it down on Ignatius Clark’s head with crushing force.