From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 503

Leander remained alone in the center, lowering his hand with deliberate calm. In an instant, the buzzing lobby of the Yelem Hotel went utterly silent. Nobody had seen it coming—he had acted first, swift and unhesitant, sending Denzel hurtling across the floor with one strike.

And this wasn't just some random guy—Denzel was the first in line to lead the most powerful family in Dechor. That single slap didn't merely land on him; it was a bold strike against the Benjamin family's prestige, a brazen challenge to their authority.

Even the richest tycoon or a powerful head of state might hesitate to do something this audacious. Yet here was Leander, a regular college student, daring the impossible. Maeve's two bodyguards caught the move for a heartbeat, eyes widening in surprise, but the moment passed almost immediately.

Amid the wreckage of the flowerbed, Denzel stumbled to his feet, blood dripping down his face. He couldn't wrap his head around it—Leander had actually hit him. In Dechor, no one ever dared touch him.

"You… you actually hit me?" His voice trembled with fury, eyes blazing with lethal intent.

"That's for threatening my friends and me." Leander's voice was icy, detached. "I'm not stopping at a hit. I could kill you. Believe it or not."

"Ha! Fine!" Denzel snarled, a wild, blood-soaked grin spreading across his face. His hand shot forward, inner vitality surging, ready to strike—but his movement froze the instant his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and scanned the message; his pupils constricted, surprise flashing across his face. Moments later, he forcibly suppressed the power coiling inside him and let his hand drop. He gave Leander a hard, icy stare. "Lucky for you today, Astrian—but don't think you've seen the last of me."

Wiping blood from his face, he spat the warning and stormed out the doors, leaving the entire lobby in stunned silence. Since when did the Benjamin heir ever show restraint like that?

Ordinarily, Denzel would have erupted in fury or summoned his family's influence to crush Leander on the spot. Yet, contrary to expectations, he only left behind a single ominous warning before striding out—utterly defying the Benjamin family's typical pattern of retaliation.

Once he vanished through the doors, Leander dropped back onto the couch as though the whole scene were nothing more than a passing breeze. Nathan and the others finally regained their senses and rushed over.

"Leander, did you actually just hit him?" Nathan's face was pale, disbelief lacing his voice. "That man is almost certainly tied to the Benjamin family, no doubt about it," he muttered, dread creeping into his tone. "If we've crossed someone like that, we won't survive a day in Dechor."

"We need to grab the next flight out—immediately," he urged. At the moment, it was the only strategy he could come up with. The Benjamin family's power was immense, but a rapid exit from Dechor would place them beyond reach.

Delay for even a moment, and revenge could strike. Four men, five women—how could we possibly hope to fend off the wrath of a family that ruled the city like a shadow over the sun?

"Don't sweat it," Leander said with a casual flick of his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A mere family like the Benjamins? Hardly worth giving a second thought. Just enjoy yourselves. Leave all the heavy stuff to me."

Rather than reassuring them, his calm nonchalance only made the group more on edge. Livia spoke up, her tone urgent. "Leander, you clearly don't realize the scope here. The Benjamins are legendary in Dechor—basically royalty in human form. They control everything. With a snap of their fingers, they could lock us up or abandon us in the desert without a second thought."

Though the others remained silent, tension marked every line of their faces. Even if Leander didn't care, they all knew the weight of the Benjamin name.

Leander let their anxious warnings wash over him, and not a flicker of worry crossed his face. When they finally fell quiet, he simply said, in that unshakably steady tone of his, "Relax. They won't lay a finger on us. And if they're foolish enough to try, I'll deal with every last one of them myself."

A simple conclusion followed, almost spoken as a promise: "You're safe as long as I'm here."

His serenity didn't soothe anyone—if anything, it left the group even more deflated. But since this whole trip to Dechor had been his treat, abandoning him now felt ungrateful and cowardly. So they stayed, reluctantly anchoring themselves to the couches and hoping for the best.

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