Chapter 544: The Man Who Slapped Death in the Face
Ethan lifted his gaze, fixing on Liam in the distance, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes.
This damned fool dared to interrupt his time with Lyla.
He gently patted Lyla’s back and leaned close.
"I’ll deal with this guy first," he murmured, his breath brushing her ear, "then we can... hug properly."
"Mm..." A strange sensation rippled through her, and an involuntary moan escaped her lips.
The sound startled her as much as it startled him. Her cheeks turned crimson, and she hurriedly pulled away, darting behind her mother as if fleeing the scene.
Only then did Ethan realize his future mother-in-law was standing there too.
He coughed lightly, awkward but trying to keep his composure. Mrs Dragonia..."
"Heh heh, just finish this quickly," she replied with a casual chuckle, patting her daughter’s arm.
As the wife of the Silverwood family patriarch, she had weathered countless storms. Even in this delicate moment, she showed no trace of panic.
"Mm." Ethan nodded.
He glanced back at Lyla hiding behind her mother and gave her a faint smile before turning to face Liam. Slowly, deliberately, he began walking forward.
"Ethan—be careful! That man has tied the detonator to his own heart!"
The warning came from Matriarch Whitmore as he passed her.
"I know," Ethan said without looking back. "Don’t worry."
His steady voice carried across the tense silence. "Tell me, how do you want to die?"
The crowd froze. Everyone’s eyes were on Ethan’s back, stunned by his words.
Who would have expected him to open with such a question, as if granting his enemy the courtesy of choosing his own death?
Even Lyla’s mother looked baffled. She turned to her daughter, who could only spread her hands helplessly, as if to say she had no idea what Ethan was thinking either.
"Hahahaha! How do I want to die? Touch me if you dare! The moment I go, every last one of you will be buried with me!"
Liam laughed wildly, his arrogance filling the air as his grip tightened on the detonator.
"Such an unreasonable request," Ethan said softly. "Then I’ll try it."
The words had barely left his mouth when two sharp smacks split the silence.
Slap. Slap.
Liam reeled, his face swelling instantly, twin red handprints blooming across his cheeks. He stared at Ethan in horror. The man’s figure had flickered, and in that fleeting instant, he had been struck twice.
What kind of strength was this?
A shiver ran through Liam as the thought struck him—if not for the TNT strapped to his body and the detonator wired to his heart, he would already be dead.
Even Matriarch Whitmore, watching closely from behind Ethan, was stunned. She had only caught the blur of movement, yet Ethan had already returned to his place as if he had never moved at all.
He had vanished for three days. Where had he gone? How had his strength grown so terrifyingly in so little time?
Her sharp eyes swept over him. His clothes were stained with wet mud, as if he had just clawed his way out of a pit. Lyla’s garments bore the same marks.
"What ’you’? Don’t waste my time. State your demands. You want my life, but you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to drag me through the mud before. That slanderous video—it was your doing, wasn’t it? And I’d bet you kept another copy, one with the full truth that could clear my name. Am I wrong?"
Ethan’s voice rang cold and steady, his suspicions laid bare.
Liam Silverwood, still reeling from the blows, clenched the detonator tighter. His rage simmered, but his arrogance faltered.
"Hmph... so what if you’re right? I just want you dead!"
Another flicker, another pair of strikes.
Slap. Slap.
This time the blows landed harder, rattling teeth loose. Four of them spilled from Liam’s mouth as he staggered.
Ethan was already back in place, calm as ever, a faint curl tugging at his lip.
"Don’t waste my time with empty threats. All that talk about blowing us sky-high—aren’t you just trying to squeeze out more leverage when it comes to bargaining?"
"You..." Liam Silverwood’s face twisted with fury. His grip on the detonator trembled, and with it, so did the hearts of everyone standing behind Ethan.
Oh, dear, they thought in unison, is this really how you negotiate?
Didn’t he see the five tons of TNT piled at Liam’s feet? If he kept provoking him like this... he’ll press it for real, and then would all be finished...
Even Matriarch Whitmore’s hand shook three times against the carved dragon head of her staff.
Dragonia, Lyla’s mother, had gone pale. She thought to herself, ’Ethan wasn’t this reckless as a boy... now I’m starting to wonder if letting Lyla be with him is really the right choice.’
But before anyone could speak, Ethan’s voice cut through again.
"Aren’t you embarrassed yet? After being slapped around by me so many times? Where’s your self-respect, your dignity? Or is that thing in your hand just a piece of trash? Go on then—press it."
Everyone behind Ethan froze.
"...Is he insane?" Leo whispered.
"I don’t think so..." Markham’s eyes narrowed, studying Ethan with an expression that was half wonder, half worry.
"This... if this isn’t insane, then what is?" Leo muttered, staring at Ethan’s mud-streaked back.
"Look at him," Markham said, pointing. "Mud on his clothes, mud in his hair—he clearly fell into some pit, maybe even a sewer."
"So what?" Leo asked in a low voice.
"So what? That means he must have hit his head and gone crazy. Wait, no... our Whitmore family’s Hidden Territory doesn’t even have sewers!" Markham mumbled, frowning as he glanced back toward the grounds.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. Of course he heard every word of their whispering.
’You’re the one who fell into a sewer,’ he cursed inwardly.
But he couldn’t deny the mud plastered across him. He’d barely had time to wipe his face clean with a towel from his Mindscape. His clothes, however, were still a mess, because the moment he realized Victor was in danger, he’d come running without changing.
The truth was humiliating. While scanning the grounds with his Soul Sense earlier, he’d stumbled across something unusual. Without thinking, he’d triggered his Travel Form and launched himself skyward—only to discover that in this place, flight was impossible.
He’d soared up, reached the peak of his jump... and dropped like a stone straight into a mud pond, face first.
If anyone had seen it at the time, he might have dug a hole just to bury himself. Flying would have looked impressive, sure—but falling into mud? That had looked downright stupid.
Even now, he hadn’t figured out whether it was just the Whitmore family’s Hidden Territory that suppressed flight, or if the entire Earth had the same restriction. He’d have to test it later, when he left.
Meanwhile, Liam Silverwood—red-faced, swollen, and humiliated—was rattled by both the slaps and Ethan’s relentless taunts. His gaze flickered between Ethan and the detonator clutched in his hand, caught between fear and rage.
"Well? Are you going to speak or not?" Ethan’s tone turned sharper. "State your demands and then get out of my sight."
He could feel it was enough now. Any more pressure, and Liam really might press that button.
Liam drew in a deep breath, forcing down his anger. His voice came out unsteady.
"Alright... I’ll speak."
The shift in tone was enough for everyone to sneer openly.
This was the man who had swaggered in, flaunting TNT and arrogance, his voice dripping with superiority. And yet, after a handful of slaps, he had been reduced to this.
"Spit it out," Ethan said flatly. "Don’t waste my time."