My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 463: Emissaries from the Harold Family

Ethan's grin broadened, a gleam igniting in his gaze. “You will see the results within five days,” he declared, his tone firm and brimming with unwavering confidence.

Moments later, his face transformed. The warm demeanor dissolved, and his eyes narrowed sharply, as though he'd just detected something captivating. A sly smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.

“It seems we've got some surprise visitors,” he murmured softly, cocking his head like he was tuning into a distant sound. “Let's head over and offer them a fitting greeting.”

James arched an eyebrow yet trailed after him without probing further.

As they entered the grand hall, the air hung thick with tension.

Drek stood with his head bowed low, nearly pressing against his chest. Before him loomed two figures who acted like they ruled the territory. Their stance, their faces, even their breathing screamed entitlement, as if all others were mere subordinates.

Kane remained composed on the spot. He appeared about forty, sporting eyes devoid of any spark. Clad in a dark suit that absorbed surrounding light, he exuded coldness. Next to him was Lucas, younger and evidently more impulsive. He wore a pristine white suit that clashed with the fury etched on his features. Gripped in his hand was a pistol, its black barrel jammed against Drek's temple.

“Why have you ignored our calls?” Kane inquired in a hushed tone. Though not raised, his words pressed down with immense weight. “And why has the tribute ceased? Reports indicate your gang's beggars have quit their rounds. I demand an answer.”

Lucas grinned at the terror on Drek's visage. His finger hovered lightly on the trigger. “My brother's posing a question,” he mocked. “Planning an early grave today? Or just too dim to reply?”

From the shadows by the doorway, Ethan observed the scene with casual interest. He held back from intervening. He aimed to gauge Drek's response to such duress. It was crucial to confirm if the allegiance he'd sown had taken firm hold.

Drek's hands quivered intensely. His frame shook all over. Yet, after brief hesitation, he compelled himself upright. Gradually, he raised his chin and locked eyes with Kane's icy stare. His words started shaky but steadied into clarity.

“I refuse to serve the Harold family any longer,” Drek stated. “I'm not alone in this. The entire gang shares my sentiment. We won't heed you anymore. Not today, nor tomorrow.”

Silence blanketed the hall.

Lucas gaped at him in shock, jaws slack. Kane's placid face betrayed a brief glint of astonishment before hardening into a chill, faintly entertained mask.

“Is that the case?” Kane whispered. His pitch dropped further, almost tender, yet laced with impending brutality. “Have you weighed this fully? Do you grasp the cost of defying the Harold family? This isn't mere quitting. It's inviting death. You're opting for self-destruction. Still set on this idiotic path?”

Drek sensed the menace vividly. It felt like unseen fingers squeezing his neck. The atmosphere grew stifling, breaths labored. Still, he held his ground.

“Yes,” he affirmed resolutely.

In his thoughts, he weighed them. Kane instilled dread. Renowned in the shadows as a merciless killer with countless victims, he was a nightmare to the average soul. But Drek had faced Ethan. He'd witnessed depths infinitely darker and more horrifying. Against the void Ethan revealed, Kane seemed trivial. Barely a threat.

Ethan viewed the confrontation with subtle approval. He edged toward James and whispered.

“James, that guy in black is a semi martial artist, isn't he? He hasn't reached Force Master level, but his murderous aura is potent. He's slain plenty.”

James gave a subtle nod. “Spot on. I recognize him. Kane's got a name in the underground fringes. He's honed assassin skills blending ninjutsu and contemporary fighting styles. Blindingly quick. A regular foe wouldn't react before meeting their end. That's why he's dubbed a demon.”

“Take care of him,” Ethan instructed evenly.

James pivoted to face him. “Pardon? And what makes you think I'll comply?” His look soured. “I'm no lowly goon of yours. You don't command me. Remember that?”

Ethan's smile unfurled gradually. “Handle him neatly, and I'll toss in an additional pill. Think of it as a perk.”

James eyed him briefly, irritation flashing. “You're utterly brazen,” he grumbled. Then he glanced at Kane, muscles coiling gradually.

“If those pills aren't forthcoming in five days, Ethan,” James warned softly, “I'll bring my family into it. Even if I can't best you alone, they'll manage. Don't push your luck.”

Saying so, he advanced.

Precisely then, Kane lunged.

A slender, lethal blade materialized in his grasp. His action flowed with expert precision. He targeted Drek's throat, set on a swift, decisive kill.

Yet prior to the edge making contact, a palm intercepted and seized his arm.

The hold was ironclad, unyielding as a vice. The weapon halted mere inches from Drek's skin, repelled by an unseen barrier.

For the first instance, Kane's eyes flared wide. Across his lethal career, none had thwarted his strike with such ease.

James regarded him coolly, nearly indifferently.

“Kane,” he intoned, his voice firm and commanding. “Best depart while you can. When you report back to the Harold family, relay this: Stay away from the Black Bull Gang. They fancy themselves mighty, but they're minnows in unfamiliar waters. Persist, and the fallout will overwhelm them.”

Lucas unraveled entirely.

“What was that?” he bellowed in rage.

Impulsively, he leveled his firearm and shot straight at James's skull.

The blast reverberated sharply across the hall.

A vicious grin spread over Lucas's lips. “Watch your tongue when dissing the Harold family,” he taunted.

Lucas's smug expression lasted under a second. It contorted into sheer dread.

The projectile, a tiny metal sliver hurtling beyond visible speed, halted dead. Suspended in the air. It nestled perfectly between James's two digits.

James had merely raised his hand and snatched it.

Force Masters operated on an entirely superior plane from typical combatants. They transcended raw power. Their edge stemmed from mastering force, an inner power that amplified all actions. Through it, they mastered formidable arts and exceeded human boundaries. Hence their widespread terror.

James possessed foundational power nearing 1.2 tonnes. At that potency alone, halting a speeding round barehanded seemed impossible. The force ought to shred tissue and shatter bone.

But he'd subtly channeled his force upon impact. The power enveloped his digits, decelerating the shot sufficiently for a secure grasp. The maneuver was so discreet that few present detected it.

To James, it was no tougher than snagging a gentle toss of a baseball.