The Ex-Con Who Conquered the World novel Chapter 84

The Dragon Transformation Fist lived up to its name. It transformed the user into a dragon made flesh.

Robert's ancient face crumpled into pure terror. His eyes went wide—too wide—as the golden fist, crowned by that spectral dragon's head, hurtled toward him. No time to run. No time to dodge.

"Break!"

Robert threw everything he had into one desperate strike. Every drop of true energy. Every ounce of power. All of it, aimed at stopping that descending dragon.

The impact shook the night. Stefan's fist—still wrapped in golden light, still crowned by that blazing dragon's head—smashed through Robert's defense like it wasn't there. Like paper. Like air. It connected with Robert's chest.

Robert flew backward. Slammed into a tree trunk. The whole tree shuddered, leaves raining down like tears.

He slid down the bark, crumpling at the base. Boneless. Broken. Blood poured from his mouth. His aura flickered and dimmed like a dying candle.

"You..." He coughed, more blood bubbling past his lips. "You were hit by Soul Severing Powder. How are you still standing?"

Stefan's expression shifted. Something almost like amusement.

How to explain this? If Mayson hadn't been lying—and he never lied about important things—then the medical canon he'd passed down was called the Divine Herbal Scripture. Only the first volume remained. The second had been lost to time.

But even just the first volume? The pinnacle of medical knowledge.

If Stefan, trained in that scripture, could be brought down by something called Soul Severing Powder? Mayson would probably escape prison just to kill him for the embarrassment.

"I can't really explain it." Stefan shrugged. "Let's just say your powder doesn't do much to me. Feels about as dangerous as breathing."

He stepped closer. Studied Robert with cold, curious eyes. "Now. You're going to talk." His voice dropped. "Who are you? That Gathering Formation under the lake—that was you, wasn't it? What's your goal? And who inside the Stewart family is working with you?"

Robert's eyes widened again. "You saw the formation?"

Stefan's gaze sharpened. "Rocks arranged to look like landscaping. But we both know what it really is.

Stefan shrugged. Like none of this mattered. "I know you don't believe me. Same way you didn't believe me when I said I'd opened nine meridians." He spread his hands, almost apologetic. "Believe what you want. But here's the truth anyway—I'm about to open my tenth. And the Profound Cold Earth Vein under the Stewart lake? That's how I'm going to do it."

"What?"

The word exploded from Robert like he'd been physically struck. His face went through contortions—shock, disbelief, horror—as if Stefan had just told him the sky was green and water burned. Tenth meridian? Breaking the fundamental law of cultivation? It was like hearing someone claim they could fly to the moon on a broomstick. Impossible. Ludicrous.

And in that moment of utter chaos, Stefan's voice crashed down like divine thunder.

"Who are you? Who in the Stewart family are you working with? Spill!"

It wasn't loud—it was worse. It resonated on a frequency that bypassed ears and struck directly at the core of Robert's shattered consciousness. Somewhere beneath the words, a dragon roared.

Robert's eyes went glassy. His resistance crumbled like a sandcastle before the tide. "I... I'm from the Veilscale Society." The words dripped out, hollow, automatic. "I was sent to harvest the Profound Cold Earth Vein. The person inside the Stewart family working with me is from the second branch—"

Then, a spike of pain drove through his mind.