Chapter 342: Enough!

Establishing a dominant image for an individual or group generally involves three aspects.

First is the dominance in presence—this wordless oppressive force cannot be ignored whether in combat or negotiations.

Another aspect is language, or rather, crushing the opponent’s arrogance while implying one’s own status. Language, as a communication tool, can become a psychological weapon when wielded effectively.

The third and most crucial aspect is strength! In this world of the powerful, only those with genuine strength have the right to speak and negotiate terms. Without this foundational power, no matter how imposing one’s presence or rhetoric may be, it remains a paper tiger… Yet strength is also the most secretive and ambiguous factor to assess. Thus, presence and language remain vital before true power needs to be demonstrated.

Now Punk and Jiaoni stood in confrontation. Though cooperation between Punk, Ben Lajie, and Joni Zordas seemed inevitable, this face-off remained critically important—it would determine who would lead and who would be relegated to shield-bearer in this trio of Master-Level powerhouses.

However… Jiaoni currently held overwhelming advantage in presence, largely because Ben Lajie beside Punk kept sabotaging the atmosphere.

Observe Joni Zordas’ troops—executing commands with meticulous discipline, these Apprentice-Level Holy Warriors hadn’t so much as twitched during the standoff between three Master-Level beings.

Then look at Ben Lajie beside Punk…

Of all times, did he think this was some theatrical performance? He was actually feasting on pork knuckles, greasy juice dripping down his chin, his flabby old face becoming indistinguishable from the fatty meat. In what should have been a solemn military confrontation, having this “lump” of Ben Lajie on their side made any comparison of presence pointless.

It appeared Ben Lajie never considered concepts like imposing presence. Ever since Punk confidently declared having a comprehensive plan, Ben Lajie had completely washed his hands of responsibilities. Even when meeting Joni Zordas, he maintained an attitude of “take your time chatting, call me if you need anything.”

Admittedly, Ben Lajie’s harmless demeanor made Punk feel… highly vigilant—this old fox was almost certainly pretending!

But no matter how bizarre Ben Lajie appeared while leisurely munching on pork knuckles, presence no longer mattered. Punk had abandoned the staring contest at the city gate, or rather, he directly conceded the ruined presence competition and advanced to the next stage.

“Joni Zordas? Hmm, your honor guard appears somewhat presentable. These worthless ants look barely passable in armor, sufficiently ornate to serve as decorative gatekeepers.”

Having entered mockery mode, Punk spoke with exceptional bluntness. His icy tone carried neither frivolity nor exaggeration, delivered as calmly as if stating simple facts.

Admittedly, this matter-of-fact delivery proved more effective than exaggerated sarcasm. Using the deeply insulting yet irrefutable term “ants” to describe the Zordas Family’s proudest military force, while describing them with such detached nonchalance—anyone hearing this would feel their temper flare.

Joni proved no exception.He fixed his gaze on Punk with eyes as sharp as blades, then spoke clearly and resonantly:

“Mr. Cyan, every Holy Warrior present is a devout follower of Tyr, the God of Justice. Each has taken to the battlefield for the Kingdom’s glory, and they deserve respect from anyone!”

Joni’s voice rang with firm conviction, his unwavering words reaching every Holy Warrior in attendance.

Sure enough, after Joni’s declaration, the soldiers present straightened their backs with pride, their expressions shifting from rigid solemnity to resolute determination.

“Oh? And what of it? Ants will always be ants. This trash combined isn’t worth a single slap from me. Flaunting a bunch of worthless creatures… the Zordas Family truly shows its pettiness.”

Feeling intense displeasure toward Joni, Punk had no intention of humoring these soldiers. So Joni wanted to talk about honor? Well, he’d counter with strength. Before a Master-Level powerhouse, what difference did it make whether there were six hundred Apprentice-Level Holy Warriors or sixty thousand? If he called them trash, how could Joni possibly refute it?

Hearing Punk’s undisguised insult, Joni’s face darkened:

“Punk Cyan, retract your words. The warriors under Tyr’s banner carry honor that cannot be tainted…”

“Joni Zordas! You should remember you’re speaking to a Senior Mentor of the Thought of Truth. At this point, still waving around so-called ‘honor’ – don’t you find it ridiculous? Or perhaps…”

Punk swept a contemptuous glance over the expressionless Holy Warrior army, then declared with icy clarity that matched Joni’s volume:

“…the honor you speak of means being beaten to a pulp by a black dragon? Watching helplessly as half your territory gets swallowed? No wonder – these useless troops are only good for guarding gates. On the battlefield, they’d just be punching bags…”

“Enough! Punk Cyan!”

Before Punk could finish, Joni roared with eyes burning crimson.

Indeed, Punk’s mockery this time struck with devastating precision, its venom piercing straight to the heart.

From their journey’s observations, it was clear that since the black dragon Ovakain Acidmaw had seized over half of the Maple Leaf Kingdom’s territory, Joni Zordas had never abandoned his quest for vengeance against the Dragon Roar Kingdom. Even after repeated failures, even after bankrupting himself to hire allies, even resorting to methods utterly unbefitting a Holy Warrior – he persisted. This revealed how deeply the wound festered in Joni’s heart, raw and unhealed.

Now, Punk had ruthlessly exposed Joni’s deepest scar, shamelessly mocking him before the Zordas Family’s Holy Warrior army – equivalent to rubbing coarse salt into the bleeding wound.

The enraged Joni glared at Punk with bloodshot eyes, his gaze sharp enough to bore holes through him. The throbbing veins on his face made his terrifying scar twitch slightly, losing their previous sharpness but gaining a bloodthirsty ferocity.

Joni’s violent emotional turmoil caused his divine Battle Aura to surge uncontrollably. Leaks of the blade-sharp aura carved deep fissures in the ground, unmistakably revealing the fury of a Master-Level Holy Warrior.”With such pettiness? Forgive my bluntness, but you’re far inferior to Ovakain.”

Punk showed no sign of backing down. His words remained as detached and icy as ever, his chilling gaze unwavering as it fixed upon Jiaoni, who was like an enraged lion. In his pupils, the azure glow of magic flickered with a frosty intensity, akin to frigid flames!

“Enough, I said enough!”

Through gritted teeth, he roared out this final exclamation. Only after glaring at Punk for a long moment did Jiaoni gradually regain his composure. After all, he was a rational Holy Warrior—anger aside, he understood full well that starting a fight now was out of the question.

Finally, shooting Punk one last sharp, piercing look, Jiaoni silently turned and strode toward the city gates…

He had abandoned this pointless confrontation.

“Oaks, stand down! And… escort our two guests into the city”!

(End of Chapter)