The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 421: The Cinnabar Sect, Nancy Loop

The fury festering in John's heart wasn't unfamiliar—but today, it surged with an unmatched ferocity. This time, suppressing it was nearly impossible.

He was in a terrible mood.

And the worse his mood became, the more violently the rage consumed him.

So, he killed Steph.

Yet, it could hardly be called unjustified. Steph had brought it on himself. Despite John's warning, Steph kept pushing—provoking, escalating—until he finally crossed a line.

Unluckily for him, he provoked John at the worst possible moment.

The woman in cyan paled at the sheer decisiveness of John's kill, stunned into silence. She dared not make a reckless move.

Among the group, Steph had been one of the more formidable fighters. But John had ended him before he even managed a proper reaction.

That alone proved John wasn't some weakling or opportunist as they'd initially assumed. He had strength—and it demanded respect.

Out of caution, the women in cyan didn't retaliate immediately. Instead, they retrieved Steph's corpse and retreated from John's sight.

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Though their forms vanished from view, their presence lingered. The auras from their group remained firmly locked onto the Feazer Medical Clinic.

They were simply buying time—waiting.

Waiting for their presbyter to arrive.

And when she did, they would make John pay.

Elsewhere, a middle-aged woman in a pristine white robe arrived like a ghost emerging from the mist.

"Jenifer, what are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to retrieve the Holy Fire Tripod of Queen Cyan?" she asked, her voice cool and commanding.

As she stepped closer, her gaze fell on Steph's lifeless body.

"Who killed him?"

Her tone darkened, a bitter chill leaking from her narrowed eyes.

The woman in cyan, Jenifer, bowed slightly. "Mr. Loop, we were about to claim the Holy Fire Tripod, but Steph was slain before we could even lay eyes on it."

She proceeded to recount the incident in detail.

Nancy Loop—presbyter of the Cinnabar Sect—snorted coldly. "Steph was always impulsive. A hard lesson might've done him good—but death?" Her voice dropped into something almost mournful.

Then her eyes sharpened.

Her gaze turned toward the Feazer Medical Clinic.

She could feel it. The distinct aura of the Holy Fire Tripod of Queen Cyan—powerful, turbulent, unstable.

"I'll deal with this personally."

With that, Nancy surged forward like a silver arrow loosed from a bow, her robe fluttering like storm clouds as she raced toward the clinic.

The others followed behind her in close formation, save for one who remained behind to tend to Steph's body.

At Feazer Medical Clinic, John had already sensed the rapidly approaching aura—immensely stronger than the previous ones.

He didn't retreat.

Instead, he stood at the clinic's gate, arms loose at his sides, eyes sharp, waiting.

Let them come.

Let them try.

He wanted to see just how many dared to touch Tracy tonight.

Moments later, she appeared.

A middle-aged woman with a dignified presence, flanked by the same group that had previously withdrawn.

Their eyes burned with hostility, focused entirely on John.

"The Cinnabar Sect—Nancy Loop," the woman announced flatly.

She studied John from head to toe, then lifted her gaze toward the second floor of the clinic. A faint furrow formed between her brows.

That was where the Holy Fire Tripod's aura originated—but something about it seemed... unstable. Unrefined. Almost feral.

John said nothing.

He only met her stare with cold, unblinking eyes.

Nancy's expression hardened. Her lips curled into the faintest sneer, and her voice turned cold.

"I came for the Holy Fire Tripod. I didn't intend to harm anyone. But you—killing a member of the Cinnabar Sect? You must be punished."

There it was.

An excuse to kill.

The arrogance of those from the Alps Mountain knew no bounds. They carried themselves like sovereigns, dismissing cultivators from the outside world as insects beneath their boots.

At first, Nancy hadn't planned to kill John—not truly.

But the fact that he had dared to ignore her... to disrespect her...

That made it personal.

Now, she wanted to kill him.

Her pride had been wounded, and to someone like Nancy, that mattered far more than Steph's death.

The air shifted. Her killing intent surged like a dam breaking open.

John's eyes darkened, the rage he had tried so hard to bury beginning to rise again. Her murderous aura was the spark that re-ignited the wildfire within.

"Old witch, what makes you so confident that you can kill me?" John's voice cut like a blade, sharp and unapologetic.

To him, the people of the Cinnabar Sect were nothing but hypocrites.

They cloaked their greed in sanctimonious justifications—killing for treasures, claiming them as though the world owed them everything.

Steph had done the same. Back at Mount Oracle, he'd coveted John's Excalibur and promised to come back for it once his mission was complete.

Now, another arrived—Nancy Loop—claiming that the Holy Fire Tripod somehow belonged to them.

What a joke.

"So shameless," John thought bitterly.

Nancy's face contorted with rage the moment he called her "old witch."

She was a woman—barely in her fifties—yet he'd publicly aged her with that insult. In her mind, such a slight was unforgivable.

Now, her desire to kill him was absolute.

Without another word, she moved.

Whoosh!

Her Vital Energy condensed into a rainbow of radiant force, slicing through the air like a divine arrow aimed directly at John's chest.

John's eyes turned crimson. The storm inside him intensified.

He didn't dodge.

He charged forward.

Boom!

With both fists raised, he shattered the rainbow mid-flight, scattering the energy into a thousand sparks.

But he didn't stop.

John pressed on like a warhammer, his momentum relentless. In a blink, he closed the distance between them.

"You're digging your own grave!" Nancy spat.

She hadn't expected him to dodge her strike—it was only a probe, a light test of strength. No skilled fighter opened with their best move.

At least, not when they didn't feel threatened.

And John? He didn't even register as a threat in her mind.

As John rushed toward her, Nancy narrowed her eyes and moved swiftly. One hand flicked out, fingers pointed like a dagger unsheathing from its scabbard.

"Jade Finger!"

Her voice echoed coldly.

Vital Energy surged wildly through her right index finger, forming a luminous, jade-like edge. The energy converged into a blinding point—razor-sharp, lethal, divine.

A single thrust—silent, precise, unstoppable.

The Jade Finger technique had torn through opponents far stronger than John.

But would it be enough?