Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 122

CHAPTER 112 PART 1

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The truth that Truman Ridge remembered the truth his family had forgotten in decades of comfortable wealth- was simple and absolute: centuries ago, the Ridge Family had been nothing. Merchants on the verge of bankruptcy, targets of rival clans, facing extinction through debt and violence.

Then the Dragon King had intervened.

One meeting. One demonstration of ancient power. One declaration that the Ridge Family now fell under the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance’s protection. Everything that followed-their meteoric rise, their accumulated wealth, their untouchable status-existed because Marcus Steel had willed it into being.

What the Dragon King granted, the Dragon King could take away.

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“Father, STAND UP!” Thaddeus Ridge grabbed his father’s shoulders, trying physically to haul him upright. “This is insane! You’re kneeling to a man half your age! Have you lost your mind?!”

“I’ve found it,” Truman gasped, his aged body trembling. “We all lost it. Living in luxury, forgetting the source. Thaddeus, you don’t understand who-”

“I understand you’ve gone senile!” Thaddeus roared. “My son is BURNED! His face is ruined! And you’re kneeling to the people who did it?!”

Marcus Steel’s dragon eyes remained utterly cold. His voice, when it came, carried that inhuman resonance that made the treasure room’s air feel thick and oppressive.

“Cosmo,” Marcus said simply. “Break one of Finnian Ridge’s legs.”

“Yes, Master,” Cosmo replied, moving toward the still-whimpering heir with predatory grace.

“NO!” Thaddeus threw himself between Cosmo and his son. “You will NOT touch him! Guards! GUARDS! Kill this

woman! Kill them BOTH!”

Doors crashed open. Twenty men poured into the treasure room-not regular security, but the Ridge Family’s elite enforcers. Hard-faced killers whose hands were stained with blood from decades of protecting the family’s interests through violence. Men who’d murdered competitors, eliminated threats, buried problems in shallow

graves.

They surrounded Cosmo with professional coordination, weapons drawn, killing intent radiating from every pore.

“Take full responsibility?” Thaddeus snarled at Marcus. “You DARE say that in MY family’s home?!”

“I dare,” Marcus confirmed calmly, his dragon aura pulsing once. “Because consequences no longer concern me. You had your warning. You ignored it. Now pay the price.”

“KILL HER!” Thaddeus screamed.

The twenty elite enforcers charged.

Cosmo’s hands moved in a blur too fast for ordinary eyes to track. Silver needles erupted from her sleeves-the Nine-Turn Heavenly Spirit Needles, legendary hidden weapon taught by the Dragon King himself. No poison coating this time. Just pure, perfect technique.

Twenty projectiles. Twenty throats.

The enforcers collapsed simultaneously, dead before their bodies hit the marble floor. Not a single scream. Not a single defensive move completed. Just sudden death delivered with surgical precision by someone who’d been

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trained by forces beyond their comprehension.

The treasure room fell into shocked silence.

“Impossible,” Mitchell Ridge whispered, staring at twenty corpses. “They were they were our best-”

“They were human,” Cosmo said calmly, stepping over bodies without looking down. “I am not.”

“MORE GUARDS!” Thaddeus’s voice cracked with hysteria. “Everyone! Every man in the estate! KILL HER!”

Footsteps thundered through halls. Dozens of guards flooded into the treasure room, more rushing in from exterior positions. The Ridge Family’s entire security force-over sixty trained fighters-converged on a single

woman.

“STOP!” Truman’s scream carried genuine anguish. “Thaddeus, you don’t understand! You’re making it WORSE!”

But Marcus Steel raised one hand, and his voice cut through the chaos with absolute authority.

“It’s too late for stopping. Cosmo-kill until you’re satisfied.”

A curved scimitar appeared in Cosmo’s hand.

Then she moved.

Dragon King-taught speed turned her into a phantom. The blade carved through flesh and bone with techniques Marcus had drilled into her through years of brutal training. Her first strike decapitated three guards who’d tried to rush her simultaneously. Her second disemboweled two more. Her third a spinning slash that defied normal physics-opened throats across a five-foot radius.

Blood sprayed. Bodies collapsed. Screams erupted and were cut short.

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