Chapter 204: Humiliation

Khan could not bear it any longer. That sneer on Lucas’s lips was like poison dripping into his veins, each second more unbearable than the last. The eyes of the Lechians watching from the streets, the whispers and gasps, the hints of admiration beginning to drift toward Lucas instead of himself...every detail pressed on his pride like a crushing weight. Humiliation settled in his chest, hot and suffocating, twisting into rage so sharp it drowned out reason. Jealousy burned through him, fanning the flames of his anger until it consumed all else. Check latest chapters at ????????????????????✶????????????????✶????????????"Enough!" he roared, his voice trembling with fury as the air around him ignited with raw elemental power. His cultivation surged outward like a tidal wave, rattling the windows of nearby buildings. The guards at his side stumbled back, unable to withstand the sudden storm of force, while the crowd gasped and instinctively pressed further away, though none dared leave. This was no ordinary scuffle anymore; this was the heir of Lechia baring his true strength, and none wished to miss it.

Khan’s hands moved in a blur, every motion conjuring a different attack, his mastery of the elements on full display. Fire burst forth first, a rolling inferno that curled and twisted into a serpent of flame. The serpent lashed toward Lucas with the fury of a dragon, its jaws wide open, its body trailing sparks that set the very air ablaze. Almost simultaneously, jagged spears of ice erupted from Khan’s other hand, shooting downward with the speed of lightning bolts. A wave of earth followed, tearing up from the cobbled streets and splitting them apart in jagged shards, while blasts of wind howled like blades, seeking to slice Lucas where he stood.

It was a flurry, an onslaught without pause or restraint. Every attack flowed into the next, a seamless tide of destruction. The sheer pace left the crowd stunned, their mouths open as they tried to follow the dazzling storm of techniques. Even the seasoned guards whispered to one another, acknowledging that their prince was fighting at the very peak of his abilities. Few in the Grandmaster rank could match such a display. This was not mere arrogance or princely privilege...this was real, refined skill honed over years of training.

And yet, it was all futile.

Lucas did not move. Not a step. Not even a shift of his stance. His hands remained loosely behind his back, his posture unshaken, his eyes cool and indifferent. The serpent of flame dissolved the moment it reached the invisible barrier that surrounded him, shriveling into embers before it could even brush against his clothes. The spears of ice shattered into harmless droplets, spraying across the street like rain. The rising shards of earth crumbled into dust upon touching the unseen wall of Qi, and the blades of wind lost their sharpness, dissipating into gentle breezes that barely ruffled Lucas’s hair.

One after another, each of Khan’s furious techniques met the same end. Lucas’s barrier, forged from his impossibly dense Qi, smothered them all as though they were mere sparks striking a great ocean. His defense did not falter, not once. The attacks did not even leave so much as a ripple in the air around him. It was as though the elements themselves were unwilling to disobey his presence, bowing down to a force greater than their wielder.

The crowd stood in hushed awe, their initial gasps giving way to silence. What had started as admiration for Khan’s furious skill now shifted, slowly but unmistakably, toward reverence for Lucas’s calm defiance.

Nyx’s gaze was fixed on Lucas, her lips curving faintly, her calm demeanor betraying the quiet storm of pride welling in her chest.

Selene, her arms folded tightly, smirked with fierce pride, her eyes shining with vindication. "He is not even trying," she muttered under her breath, her voice sharp with satisfaction.

Lira, more open in her awe, whispered, "How can he make it look so effortless? This is madness."

Khan, meanwhile, grew only more frantic. His breathing quickened, sweat beaded at his temples, his eyes wild with disbelief. His greatest techniques, his deadliest power, all falling into nothingness before the calm presence of a man who had not shifted a single step. Each attack that shattered against that impenetrable barrier was another blow to his pride. The more futile his efforts became, the more formidable Lucas appeared.

Lucas’s sneer never wavered. He let the storm rage around him, dissolving every strike with the same quiet, suffocating dominance. His Qi was not just defense; it was a statement. His protective barrier was so dense, so absolute, that even the heir of Lechia could not make a dent.

He was formidable. Beyond formidable. He was untouchable.

Lucas had let Khan wear himself out, watching with that same maddening calm as strike after strike fell apart like waves breaking against a cliff. But now, at last, he had decided that enough was enough. His expression shifted, the sneer softening into a focus that sent shivers through those who dared to look into his eyes. His defense had proven itself beyond doubt, and now it was time to show why his name would not be forgotten.

Even he, however, admitted inwardly that the duel was not simply one-sided bravado. He understood the depth of Khan’s talent, the quality of his fire, and the raw mastery of the elements that had been on display. Khan was powerful, there was no denying that. But Lucas’s edge came from something far beyond natural skill. His endless reservoir of Qi, his knowledge of techniques, and the accumulated energy he had gained from Henrietta and the other girls gave him strength beyond ordinary measure. Threads of power from a higher realm whispered within him, the faint whiskers of ascendant energy brushing against his veins thanks to the bond he shared with Henrietta. It was not something Khan could have prepared for, nor was it something he could ever hope to match.

Lucas took a slow breath, the air thickening with the weight of his intent. Then, with a single movement, he leapt into the sky. His body surged upward as though the heavens themselves had pulled him, and within the blink of an eye, he was levitating alongside Khan. Gasps rippled through the crowd below, their heads tilting upward to follow his swift ascent. He did not struggle with the air as others might; he floated with a grace that suggested the sky itself was his rightful domain.

Khan’s eyes widened. He had not even seen the moment Lucas moved. One instant, Lucas had been standing far below, hands clasped calmly behind his back, and the next, he was in front of him, the distance closed in a heartbeat. The prince’s chest tightened with disbelief as he realized he could not follow that speed.

Lucas’s arm rose, slow enough for all to see. His fist clenched, and for the briefest second, Khan’s breath caught. The weight of that simple raised punch radiated a brutal promise of power. The air trembled, and even the onlookers far below could feel it in their bones. Had Lucas let the blow fall, it would have been devastating. Khan could see it, feel it in every fiber of his being...the crushing physical strength behind it would have sent him plummeting like a broken doll.

At the last possible moment, Lucas’s fist stopped midair, inches from Khan’s face. The silence that followed was suffocating, all eyes locked on what he would do next. And then, in a gesture so casual it cut deeper than any blade, Lucas reached forward and tapped Khan on the head. Not a punch...not even a slap. Just a light, mocking pat, like a master humoring an obedient hound.

The humiliation was unbearable.

The Lechians below erupted in outrage, their voices echoing off the polished stone walls of the capital’s streets. To see their prince...heir to the throne, son of the empress...treated with such derision was an insult that clawed at their pride. The insult was not merely to Khan; it was to all of Lechia.

Khan’s face burned crimson, from the humiliation that seared deeper than any flame. His fists shook, his body trembled, his pride shredded before the eyes of his people. He was the heir, trained to rule, to embody strength and dignity, and yet in this moment, he was nothing more than a boy made to look small before an entire city.

Lucas, meanwhile, did not say a word. He did not need to. His actions spoke louder than any declaration could. He floated there with an expression of cool disdain, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the embodiment of a man who knew his own power and feared nothing.

Selene, Nyx, and Lira could hardly contain themselves. Their eyes sparkled with admiration, with pride, with an almost childlike delight at the spectacle. They knew how dangerous this was, how reckless Lucas’s actions appeared, but they could not help the thrill that coursed through them. He had humiliated a prince in his own capital, and he had done it with nothing more than calm composure and a single pat on the head.