Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 263

CHAPTER 181 PART 2

Maurice’s hand moved toward a weapon, but the man laughed. “Please. We have you surrounded. Your son is helpless. Your disciple is injured. You’re bleeding internally and operating on will alone. Do you really think violence is your option here?”

Maurice’s jaw clenched. He recognized the voice, recognized the arrogance. “Isidore Lancaster.”

“My grandson lies in a hospital bed with permanent injuries,” Isidore Lancaster said, stepping closer. “My family’s reputation has been destroyed. The video of Atlas being beaten is still circulating. Entire business operations have collapsed because of the shame.”

“That’s not my concern,” Maurice replied flatly.

“No, it’s not,” Isidore agreed. “But it should be. You see, we knew that you would challenge Marcus Steel. We knew you would fail. We were counting on it. While you exhausted yourself fighting him, we could eliminate you both. Solve two problems at once.”

Miles made a sound of understanding. “You sent the assassins.”

“Of course we did,” Isidore said. His smile was the smile of a man who believed victory was already his. “And now that you know, now that you understand you’ve been played, you can die knowing exactly how thoroughly you failed.”

Maurice looked at Isidore Lancaster with eyes that held no fear, only clarity. He had survived a battle with the Dragon King. He had fought through pain that would have broken lesser men. And now this aristocrat stood before him, believing his money and his name made him untouchable.

“You’re insects,” Maurice said quietly. “All of you. You scheme and you plot and you believe your family names mean something. But you’re nothing. You’re less than nothing. You’re the things that crawl on the ground and believe themselves gods.”

Isidore’s expression hardened. “Kill him.”

The warehouse erupted into violence.

Maurice moved despite his injuries, despite the blood in his lungs and the broken bones grinding in his chest. He grabbed one of the guards, used him as a shield, and moved with the terrible grace of a man who had nothing left to lose. The gunfire that was meant to cut him down cut down the guard instead.

A second guard charged with a blade. Maurice caught his wrist, twisted, and shattered the bone. The blade fell. Maurice picked it up and without hesitation drove it through the man’s throat.

A third guard tried to retreat. Maurice grabbed him by the collar and drove his head into a steel support beam. The impact echoed through the warehouse.

The fourth guard dropped his weapon and ran.

Isidore Lancaster was already moving toward the exit, but Maurice was there. He moved with the kind of speed that defied his injuries, that suggested his cultivation technique was something more primal and dangerous than normal fighting arts.

He grabbed Isidore by the throat and slammed him against the wall. The aristocrat’s eyes bulged. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

“You tried to use me,” Maurice said, his voice steady despite the exertion. “You tried to use the Dragon King. You tried to use your family name like a shield. Do you know what happens to insects that try to be gods?”

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Isidore made a choking sound.

“They get crushed,” Maurice finished.

He released his grip just enough for Isidore to gasp for breath, then held him suspended, studying his face with the kind of clinical interest a researcher might show toward a specimen under glass.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Maurice said. “You’re going to call everyone. Everyone in your family. Everyone in your network. Everyone with even a hint of power. And you’re going to tell them that Maurice Springs is

coming for them. Tell them the Willson Pavilion has taken an interest. Tell them that the Dragon King is watching.

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Isidore’s eyes widened with understanding. He had thought this was about personal revenge. He had not

understood that by attacking Maurice, he had invited something far greater into his affairs.

Maurice threw him to the ground like discarded garbage and turned toward Miles and Quantez.

“Get him in the vehicle,” he commanded. “We’re leaving Five-River Province.”

As they moved through the warehouse, Maurice looked back at Isidore Lancaster sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. The old man had believed his family name meant something. Had believed his wealth and connections made him untouchable.

He was learning, very quickly, that there were forces in this world far greater than anything Lancaster money could purchase.

The night swallowed them as they fled into darkness, Maurice’s mind already calculating his next move, already planning how to respond to the Lancasters’ betrayal. His injuries were forgotten. His pain was irrelevant.

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