Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 248

CHAPTER 174 PART 2

A man stepped forward from the group of foreigners-early twenties, expensive designer clothes, the kind of face that had never been told “no” in his entire life. This was the one who’d encouraged Tyson’s chopstick game earlier, who’d laughed at the staff’s humiliation.

Young Master Springs.

“Do you have any idea who we are?” Springs demanded, his face flushed with outrage. “Do you know what organization we represent? You just assaulted our people! Humiliated us in this backwater province! You need to apologize immediately! Get on your knees and beg forgiveness before I-”

Marcus’s slap cut off the tirade mid-sentence.

The Dragon King’s palm connected with Springs’s face with enough force to snap his head sideways and send him staggering. Blood trickled from his split lip.

“Before you what?” Marcus asked calmly.

“You… you hit me…” Springs touched his bleeding mouth with disbelief. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? I’ll-”

The second slap was harder. Dragon power infused the strike, lifting Springs off his feet and sending him crashing to the floor in a heap of expensive clothing and shattered dignity.

Finley Monroe watched this unfold with an expression somewhere between fascination and calculation. She’d been defeated but not destroyed-Marcus had shown restraint, even mercy. That told her something important about the Dragon King’s character and his assessment of her as a non-serious threat.

Springs scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with shaking hands. His earlier arrogance had evaporated, replaced by genuine fear mixed with desperate fury.

“One hundred million!” he shouted to his companions and the gathered staff. “One hundred million US dollars to whoever cripples this bastard! Seven hundred million yuan! Cash! Right now!”

The offer hung in the air-an obscene amount of money, enough to transform lives, enough to make people consider the impossible.

A Western man from Springs’s group stepped forward-tall, muscular, apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Marcus, genuine regret in his voice. “But that’s too much money to pass up.”

He attacked with professional speed and technique-clearly trained, clearly dangerous under normal circumstances.

Marcus rushed forward to meet him. Their exchange lasted less than a second.

The crack of the Western man’s arm breaking echoed across the dining hall. He hadn’t even completed his first strike before Marcus’s dragon-enhanced counter destroyed his elbow joint completely.

Before the man could scream, Marcus’s follow-up punch drove into his solar plexus with enough force to lift him off his feet and slam him onto a nearby table. The expensive wood cracked under the impact. The Western man lay there gasping like a fish out of water, unable to stand, unable to even breathe properly.

The speed of the exchange left everyone speechless. Professional fighter to broken invalid in less than a second. No struggle. No back-and-forth. Just immediate, overwhelming dominance.

1/3

+25 Bonus

Young Master Springs’s face went from flushed to pale. The reality of his situation was finally penetrating through layers of privilege and entitlement. He wasn’t dealing with hotel security or local thugs. He was dealing with the Dragon King-a man who’d just dismantled trained fighters like they were children.

Miguel Abbott and his staff, who’d endured hours of humiliation and abuse, felt something like euphoria watching their tormentors destroyed. The oppression had reversed. The tables had turned. And Marcus Steel stood at the center of it all, utterly calm, completely unbothered.

Marcus walked to a chair and sat down with casual authority. His dragon eyes fixed on Young Master Springs with the predatory focus of someone who’d already decided the outcome.

“Come here,” Marcus said quietly. “Lick my shoes.”

The demand was simple, direct, and absolutely humiliating.

Springs’s eyes went red-shame and fury and terror mixing into something desperate. “I… I won’t… you can’t make me…”

“I can’t?” Marcus smiled without humor. “Allen. Miguel. Staff. Anyone who wants revenge for what these people did to you-beat this arrogant child until he understands his position. Anyone who tries to stop you gets the same treatment Springs is about to receive.”

The hotel employees didn’t need to be told twice. Weeks of pent-up frustration, hours of recent abuse, the humiliation of being called “sick men” and treated like servants-all of it exploded into action.

They surged forward. Springs tried to run, but hands grabbed him, pulled him down, pinned him to the floor.

The beating that followed was enthusiastic, vengeful, and utterly without mercy.

“Sick man? You called us sick men?”

“How’s this for sick, you spoiled bastard!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify