From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 110

Chapter 110 A Dark Wind of Death

“Who are you?”

The Black Sorcerer’s heart was already in turmoil.

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He had been causing chaos all across Mornwick, killing several people without leaving a trace. This time, after discreetly returning from Crestgate to Ravenridge, he had convinced himself that his movements were undetectable.

With his level of skill, who could possibly track him down?

Yet, here he was, confronted by someone who had not only found him but had also managed to send him reeling with nothing more than the force from shattered stones. What baffled him even more was that this person was a young martial artist, barely seventeen or eighteen years old.

It was incomprehensible. Martial arts was a path that began with ease but became increasingly arduous. Attaining internal energy might not be impossible, but becoming truly skilled–rising to the level of a master–required years of intense training. Time was the true measure of

progress.

Most masters were well into their forties by the time they achieved their status. Even someone as extraordinarily gifted as Gareth had needed over a decade of relentless practice before he could make a name for himself.

But this boy–he was far too young for such mastery.

Leander’s cold, indifferent gaze swept over the Black Sorcerer as though he were nothing more than a lifeless corpse, devoid of any emotion.

After a brief pause, he calmly turned his attention back to Yvette, untying the ropes that bound her. His movements were gentle, almost delicate, as if the Black Sorcerer standing behind him posed no threat at all.

The sight of this stirred fury deep within the Black Sorcerer.

Since mastering the arts of Hornsey, he had never faced anyone bold enough to turn their back on him during combat. It was practically inviting death. Yet here was Leander, treating him with such disregard, as though he were invisible. The boy clearly held him in no esteem whatsoever.

This arrogance did not cause the Black Sorcerer to hesitate. If anything, it only deepened his resolve to kill.

From the moment he had betrayed Hornsey, he had sworn to one day become a formidable

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force in the martial world, a name that would rival the Four Extremes, those whose fame had echoed across the land.

But now, this boy, turning his back on him, was nothing less than a grave insult.

With a furious stomp, the Black Sorcerer sent tremors rippling through the boiler room, the ground beneath him cracking as he launched himself toward Leander.

His palms pulsed with internal energy, shrouded in a thick black mist laced with deadly poison. Even a grandmaster–level martial artist would find their organs corroding, their life fading swiftly if touched by such a toxic force. The Black Sorcerer showed no mercy with this strike. He wanted Leander to pay the price for his insolence.

In the blink of an eye, his blackened palm struck Leander’s back with a dark, ink–like imprint seeping into the pristine white of his shirt. A dull thud echoed through the air.

Boom!

The impact was solid, but instead of triumph, sheer terror overtook the Black Sorcerer’s face. Though he hadn’t unleashed his full strength, he had used about seventy percent of his power. Yet it felt as if he had slammed into decayed leather–no impact, no damage. Leander didn’t even flinch. Worse still, a numbness crept up the sorcerer’s arm from the recoil.

“How is this possible?”

His pupils constricted as he leaped backward, desperate to put distance between himself and Leander. The terror in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn’t just a Hornsey sorcerer; he was a martial artist as well, skilled in both realms. With his combined prowess, he was nearly invincible below the rank of Martial Sovereign. Even many Martial Sovereigns would hesitate to challenge him.

That strike had carried enough energy to shatter stone or pierce steel, yet when it landed on Leander, it was like striking the boundless ocean—leaving not even a ripple. Even the deadly poison woven into his attack seemed to dissipate, leaving only faint smudges on Leander’s shirt.

Could he be using internal energy to neutralize my attack? Is this boy a Martial Sovereign?

The Black Sorcerer’s heart pounded in disbelief. But no, it was impossible. A seventeen–year- old Martial Sovereign? Such a thing didn’t exist. Martial Sovereigns were a rarity, and none could rise to such heights so young.

Yet Leander remained unfazed, not even acknowledging the sneak attack. He calmly finished untying Yvette, gently leaning her against the wall. Only then did he rise to his feet, a cold, mocking smile spreading across his lips.

“You used Hornsey’s forbidden art, the ‘Five Elements Needle,‘ to murder four people. I didn’t

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come looking for you, but now you dare to stir up trouble in Ravenridge? Don’t you realize this is my territory?”

His voice was cold and piercing, rendering the Black Sorcerer speechless, completely stunned. The Soulrend Needle was a forbidden technique of Hornsey, a secret known to few. Even within the Hornsey sect itself, most practitioners were unaware of its existence, let alone those outside the order.

Moreover, the Soulrend Needle was only its public name. Its true name, “Five Elements Needle,” was known only to the highest ranks, such as the sect’s leader. Yet Leander spoke of it casually, as if intimately familiar with every detail. How could this not leave the Black Sorcerer in shock?

“Are you a Hornsey sorcerer too?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat, a deep sense of dread settling over him.

Years before, he had betrayed Hornsey, killing his mentor in cold blood to learn forbidden techniques and seize greater power. That act had branded him a traitor in Hornsey’s eyes, and the sect had sent countless elite warriors to hunt him down.

He thought Leander must be one of those warriors, but after sensing him carefully, the Black Sorcerer was stunned. Leander lacked any trace of sorcerer energy, not even the internal force of a martial artist. It left him utterly confused.

“Hornsey has nothing to do with me,” Leander said, his voice sharp and devoid of emotion. “I just happen to know a little about your Hornsey techniques.” His tone grew even colder. “But today, I don’t mind stepping in for Hornsey and cleaning up the likes of you.”

Leander slowly spread his fingers, then clenched them into a fist. The crack of his knuckles echoed through the boiler room.

“Since you’re unlucky enough to cross paths with me today, I’ll send you below to apologize to the souls you’ve stolen.”

The Black Sorcerer’s pupils shrank as he asked in a deep voice, “You intend to kill me?”

“Of course.” Leander’s reply was laced with chilling indifference. He stepped forward, and a surge of energy radiated from him, powerful enough to make the nearby furnace shatter into pieces.

Terror gripped the Black Sorcerer. Leander’s strength was beyond anything he had encountered in his many years. Yet, despite the fear gnawing at him, he maintained his composure, breaking into a loud, mocking laugh.

“I was wondering who had the audacity to speak with such arrogance. Now I understand.”

“It turns out you’re Jeff of Mornwick!”

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In that moment, he had pieced it all together, deducing Leander’s true identity.

“I know your martial skills are exceptional, but even so, how do you think you can kill me?”

“Even if I can’t defeat you, if I choose to leave, there’s no way you’ll stop me!”

The Black Sorcerer smirked confidently. “In all of Astria, only a handful like Gareth, Maximilian, Grayson, or Sean could dare claim they might kill me. Even if a Martial Sovereign stood before me, I’d escape unscathed. And you, a newly crowned one, think you can take my life?”

“If you want to kill me, wait until you reach the Four Extremes–then we’ll talk!”

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