The man practically tripped over his own feet as he bolted into the garden, clearly not interested in becoming Exhibit B. About five minutes later, a group of rough-looking men stormed out of the garden, led by none other than Blood Fiend himself. The guy was built like a tank and carried the kind of scars that said, “Yes, I fight for a living, and no, I don’t lose.”

“Who dares to stir up trouble on my turf?” Blood Fiend’s voice thundered like a storm, making his entrance feel very much like a boss battle in the making.

Asmon stood his ground, unimpressed. “So, you’re Blood Fiend? I’ve gotta say, your reputation doesn’t quite live up to the hype.”

Blood Fiend’s scarred face twisted into a sneer. “And who the hell are you, kid?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Asmon shot back, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather. “What does matter is that this medicine garden belongs to my family, not your gang of wannabe thugs.”

Blood Fiend threw his head back and laughed like Asmon had just told the world’s funniest joke. His men joined in, their laughter echoing through the mountain.

“Kid, are you serious? Your family’s so pathetic they sent you to fight me? Even if Stelter himself came crawling here, he wouldn’t stand a chance!”

To Blood Fiend, the Thrumpwood family was little more than a bad memory now that Victor was gone. He stood tall and smug, arms crossed, radiating confidence.

“Blood Fiend, you’re giving yourself way too much credit,” Asmon said, his voice colder than a winter storm. “My father put you in your place once, and I’m more than capable of doing it again. Do you honestly believe you have what it takes to wipe my family out of Goldenridge City?”

The air seemed to ripple with tension as Asmon’s steely gaze locked onto Blood Fiend. “I’ll make this simple: you have five minutes to get out of here with every last one of your men. If you don’t, I’ll show you why I don’t need an army to take you down.”

Blood Fiend threw his head back in laughter, his booming voice so infectious that his men joined in, chuckling nervously. “Brothers, did you hear this little brat? He thinks he can kill us!”

A grizzled thug behind him cracked his knuckles, smirking. “Boss, why waste your time? Let me handle him. I’ll have him crying for his mommy in no time.”

Blood Fiend waved a hand, not even bothering to look at Asmon. “Fine. Don’t break him too much, though. Just give him a taste of reality.”

The middle-aged man swaggered forward, all confidence and bravado. “Alright, kid,” he said, grinning like he’d already won. “How would you like your beating? Quick and painless, or long and educational?”

Asmon didn’t flinch. His expression hardened, ice in his veins. “You’ll be lucky if I let you pick where I bury you.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Before the man could even blink, Asmon moved. One moment he was standing still, the next, he was right next to his opponent. His kick, glowing with a silvery hue, struck like a comet. The thug’s eyes widened as the kick hit his crotch with a sickening 'crack'. The man flew backward, landing in a heap several meters away. He didn’t move.

Silence.

The Blood Fiend Gang stared in shock. The dead man had been one of their best fighters, a seasoned warrior in the Imperial Qi realm, and this kid—this 'teenager'—had ended him in one kick.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” Blood Fiend muttered, his earlier smirk twitching into something less confident. “Kid, you’ve got some bite for a pup. But don’t think one lucky shot means you’ve won.”

Asmon’s tone could have frozen lava. “Your five minutes are up.”

Blood Fiend’s face darkened, his bravado thinning. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you. Let’s see how you handle me!”

Asmon didn’t respond. He vanished again, reappearing behind another gang member. A flash of movement, a muffled cry, and another body hit the ground. The gang’s bravado evaporated like mist under the morning sun. Blood Fiend turned, his face twisting with rage as his men dropped one after another, like leaves in a storm.

“Stop running, you coward!” Blood Fiend bellowed, his blood aura flaring around him like a crimson flame. He lunged at Asmon, his massive fists aiming to crush him.

Asmon ducked with the casual grace of someone dodging a slow-moving pigeon. “You’re way too slow for this. Did you really think flailing wildly would work?”

Blood Fiend snarled, his patience snapping. “Enough! 'Blood Fiend Fist!'” His punch surged forward, a crimson energy fist flying toward Asmon like an angry meteor.

Asmon tilted his head, unimpressed. “Oh, you’ve got tricks too? Cute.”

Meeting the attack head-on, Asmon unleashed his own punch—'Ball Destroyer Punch'. The collision of energies lit up the area, but the crimson fist wavered, distorted, and finally shattered into fading motes of light. Blood Fiend stumbled back, dropping to one knee as blood dribbled from his mouth. His wide eyes locked on Asmon, who hadn’t moved an inch. “W-who are you?” he gasped.

Asmon crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “I’m Asmon, head of the Thrumpwood family. And I wasn’t kidding when I said you wouldn’t leave Goldenridge City alive.”

The remaining gang members froze in terror. Blood Fiend, trembling, forced a smile. “Wait! Spare me! I’ll—I'll do anything! I can even bind my life to yours!” He fumbled a scroll from his robes, holding it up with shaking hands. “This… this is a life-binding technique. You’ll control my life and death. Please, just… spare me.”

Asmon stared at him, his face unreadable. “So now you’re begging? I thought you were the big bad Blood Fiend.”

“No tricks, I swear!” Blood Fiend stammered. “I’ll be your most loyal servant. Just—don’t kill me!”

For the first time, Asmon’s lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. “You’re pathetic. But hey, I’m a fair guy. Let’s see if you’re as loyal as you claim.”

Blood Fiend’s relief was almost comical. He hurriedly opened the scroll, muttering the incantation as fast as his trembling lips would allow. Asmon watched, his eyes narrowing.

“Good choice, Dante” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Blood Fiend to hear. “For now.”

The moment Dante surrendered with such earnestness, Asmon decided there was no need to rush things by killing him outright. After all, a master at the eighth level of Imperial Qi was a valuable asset. With someone like Dante guarding the Thrumpwood family, their position in Goldenridge City would be as unshakable as Mount Tai.

“Dismantle the Blood Fiend Gang, and have your people transport all the loot your gang has amassed to Goldenridge City. I’ll be waiting there,” Asmon said coolly after securing control over Dante using a secret technique. Without waiting for a response, he turned and floated away, leaving the Blood Fiend Gang’s former leader standing in stunned silence.