From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 389

Inside the tavern, the air suddenly froze. On the first floor, where Leander and his companions sat, a raging current of energy surged, shattering tables and chairs, splintering jars of wine. Liquid sprayed everywhere, the aroma of spilt alcohol filling the room.

The owner and the few bartenders were dumbstruck, their faces ashen, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"So… you're Jeff Ashcroft!"

Galen's eyes shifted wildly. In a single glance, his aura exploded into a tempest, hurtling toward Leander.

Leander's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. Eight years had passed since he last saw Galen, yet this reunion was far from pleasant. He hadn't expected that Galen's trip to Highcliffe was to come after him.

The windstorm swept forward. Leander did not seem to be doing anything, but the violent force could not reach him. Before him and Daphne hovered an invisible shield, holding the two of them safe as the storm raged around them.

Their opposing auras collided at the tables, making the entire tavern tremble. A low, muffled boom followed, sending ripples of energy outward. Outside, the towering cedar trees lining the tavern split cleanly in half, as if struck by a razor.

Nearby, several abandoned courtyard buildings crumbled instantly.

Daphne's eyes widened in shock. Leander and Galen hadn't even fully attacked—this was merely a clash of intent—and yet the destruction was terrifying. If they had gone all out, every building within a hundred feet could have been reduced to rubble.

"Impressive, Jeff Ashcroft," Galen said, his voice dark with awe. "I'd heard stories about you—making a name for yourself at a young age, killing masters across the martial world, even earning a title from the Divine Loom itself. Seeing you now, I can confirm every word was true."

The oppressive aura around Galen abruptly collapsed, vanishing. He raised his eyes to Leander, his expression a tangle of respect and lingering tension.

"No wonder Homer died by your hand."

Leander's defenses faded, and he shook his head lightly, his face calm and indifferent.

"He acted for the Riverstone family. I already told him to back off, but he didn't heed my warning," Leander said.

"I've always felt a certain respect for Mount Martial… I truly didn't want to kill him."

Leander had faced countless formidable enemies across the world without showing the slightest hesitation or weakness. Yet now, facing Galen—whom he regarded as a benefactor—he couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia and regret.

"It doesn't matter," Galen said coldly, the murderous intent flickering in his eyes. "What matters is that he died by your hand."

Leander laughed lightly and drained the last of the liquor from the jar.

"Then drink this, and if you wish, avenge your junior brother."

Galen stared at Leander. The atmosphere seemed to freeze around them. After a long moment, the fury in his eyes softened.

"Today, our feud is set aside; this is just about courtesy and respect. I won't strike you."

He lifted the jar, drained it of its contents, then flicked it aside; it smashed against a beam, splintering to pieces.

"Wine shared and gone. From now on, we are enemies."

He picked up his whisk and walked calmly toward the door, his words chilling.

"I am Galen Pierce, head of Mount Martial, Taoist name Windborne. Next time… I will kill you."

With that, his tall figure vanished from the tavern.

"Ander!"

As soon as Galen left, Daphne hurried to grab Leander's arm, her eyes flickering with concern.

Leander picked up a piece of beef and chewed thoughtfully, a faint curve touching his lips.

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