The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 425: Son of a Bitch

Gavin Wenson made his move.

With a flick of his sleeve, a sharp blast of vital energy shot out silently like a blade.

Though he hadn't used an actual sword, the vital energy carried the faint trace of sword spirit—the essence of a true sword cultivator.

It didn't have the flair of Nancy Loop's Jade Finger technique, but in terms of raw power?

It was ten, maybe a hundred times stronger.

A silent thunderclap, deadly and precise.

More than enough to kill John Lopez on the spot.

After releasing the attack, Gavin didn't even spare John another glance. His eyes had already shifted to Tracy Linch.

She was the one worth fighting over.

He was already calculating how to contend with Young Master Feather for the Holy Fire Tripod of Queen Cyan.

As for Nancy Loop? He didn't even bother.

Even if she took that forbidden pill, she wouldn't be able to match either of them.

Gavin Wenson only acknowledged one rival here: Young Master Feather.

But then—

"Eh?"

Gavin frowned.

From the corner of his eye, he realized something was off.

John Lopez was still standing.

He hadn't even been injured by the sword-like vital energy blast.

"...This guy really isn't normal," Gavin muttered, his expression darkening.

"Told you," Nancy Loop said smugly. "That lunatic's no joke. You'll need real skill if you want to kill him."

"Humph!"

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Gavin's face turned sour. Mocked by Nancy? That only added fuel to the fire.

His gaze locked on John, and the killing intent in his eyes froze the air around him.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled. "Go to hell!"

A surge of vital energy burst from his body, far stronger than before.

He had underestimated John once—and failed.

Now mocked for it? Unforgivable.

But this time, John responded.

"You've been calling me that over and over," he snapped. "You wrinkled bastard from the Alps Mountain. What's with that nasty-ass mouth of yours?"

Then he charged.

Vital energy gathered and exploded around him as he launched into his nameless divine skill.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He shattered Gavin's second blast of energy with a flurry of punches. Each strike echoed with sonic booms, and the pressure grew more terrifying by the second.

Gavin's eyes narrowed.

He had assumed Nancy had exaggerated John's power to save face.

Now, he realized it was the truth.

That madman's cultivation method was seriously twisted.

From a distance, Nancy Loop watched, a flicker of unease in her eyes.

He's stronger than before...

Earlier, she had assumed John was holding back or delaying for some personal reason. She hadn't realized his outburst was due to unstable emotions—he had been trying to vent his excess energy.

Now that he'd calmed down, he could channel his power with full control.

The result? Brutal, precise force focused entirely in his fists.

Young Master Feather studied the scene thoughtfully.

"This guy..." he murmured. "He can condense his vital energy that tightly without even relying on martial techniques. His cultivation method is anything but ordinary."

He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"I'm more interested in his exercise method than even the Holy Fire Tripod."

The Cloud School had always been fascinated with rare and bizarre cultivation methods—including those bordering on the demonic.

John Lopez had just become their newest target of interest.

But while others watched with interest, Gavin Wenson's patience wore thin.

Twice humiliated. He couldn't take it anymore.

"The Eleventh Ghost Sword!"

The long sword on his back suddenly floated into the air, hovering over his head.

Sword spirit surged.

This was the signature technique of the Ghost Sword Sect—thirteen forms in total.

Gavin had mastered the eleventh, the strongest offensive move in his arsenal.

He wasn't going to play around anymore.

"You son of a bitch!"

The hovering sword exploded into eleven identical sword shadows, each one pulsing with murderous intent.

Their cold light reflected off Gavin's skeletal face, making him look like a living corpse.

John's eyes gleamed.

So that's swordsmanship, huh?

The old monk had given him Excalibur, but never taught him how to use it. In fact, the monk never taught him any formal martial arts.

His nameless divine skill was already strong enough to crush most techniques—but this...

Watching Gavin's move, John grew intrigued.

One sword splitting into ten, each carrying overwhelming pressure?

That wasn't just technique—it was art.

It stirred something in him.

Perhaps it was the two sword spirits hidden in his palm—whispering, stirring, tempting.

A bold idea rose within him:

One day, I'll master my own swordsmanship. Not borrowed. Not taught. Mine.

Buzz—!

The eleven sword shadows spun, condensing their deadly aura.

Killing intent surged like a tidal wave.

Then—John moved.

A crimson light shimmered in his hand.

Excalibur.

It radiated raw power, though he barely understood how to wield it.

"I've got a sword too," John said with a crooked smile. "Never learned how to use it. But I'm curious..."

He raised the blade casually.

"Let's see if a random slash from me can block your so-called Almighty Sword Spirit."

He turned briefly to Tracy. "Get back. This one might get messy."

To Gavin Wenson, the gesture was insulting.

Casual. Arrogant.

Insane.

Block the Eleventh Ghost Sword... with a lazy swing?

"Then go ask the King of Hell if you pulled it off!"

Gavin roared—

"SON OF A BITCH!!"

And the eleven swords screamed toward John.