From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 529

"Ahhhh!"

A scream tore across the distant sky as fierce flames erupted, painting the horizon red. The voice was shrill and gut-wrenching, echoing through the clouds.

The crowd could faintly recognize that the voice belonged to Neil, who had fled far into the distance only moments ago. But what left them all bewildered was how someone already thousands of feet away—nearly at the edge of the horizon—could suddenly burst into flames on his own.

The black-robed man spun toward the burning light in the distance. Seeing the inferno blaze across the horizon, his expression darkened, fury boiling in his eyes. But beneath that anger was confusion—what had Leander done, and how could he ignite Neil's body from such an impossible distance?

Aurora's eyes widened in disbelief. She had once witnessed Leander unleash the Dragonfire Soulchaser above the Southern Shore, where he shot down two Transcendent Realm powerhouses from the World Power Rankings.

But back then, Leander had gathered flames into a longbow and loosed it with his own hands. Today, he hadn't even moved—no bow, no flame, no sound. And yet, he had killed as if by thought alone. The realization left her stunned.

"Ashcroft," the black-robed man demanded, his tone shaking with both rage and dread, "what kind of technique did you use?"

Leander smiled faintly. "Technique? The moment my spiritual blade touched him, he was already dead."

It was his most lethal spiritual strike—once a person's mind was marked by his spiritual strength, there was no escape unless they possessed greater mental power or overwhelming strength to counter him.

Anyone touched by that mark could be obliterated with a single thought, no matter how far they fled. The mark would ignite from within, turning their very soul into fire until nothing remained.

Neil might have reached the King Phase, but he was newly ascended—far from the level of the ancient Kings. Worse yet, he wasn't even a practitioner of spiritual strength. His mental defenses were weak. So after Leander had seriously injured him, it took only a single thought to reduce him to ashes.

"D*mn you!" the black-robed man roared as he sensed Neil's life force vanish completely. His fury burned so hot it nearly burst from his eyes. "Do you realize what you've done? Killing a Demon Hunter of the Church—do you know the crime you've committed, Ashcroft?"

He still couldn't fathom how Leander had done it, but that kind of godlike power filled him with a deep unease.

"Crime?" Leander's tone was almost mocking, a smirk tugging at his lips. "The Church is a relic of the last century, and you still have the nerve to bring it up?"

He stepped closer, his gaze cold and sharp. "If your Church is truly powerful, why haven't your people stood up to the Arbitration Office? Why were you suppressed, forced into hiding, your High Priest dethroned? Even your so-called Demon Hunters were reduced to running dogs, serving under the very organization that crushed you.

"You want to lecture me about the Church? You've come to the wrong man. I don't even flinch at the Arbitration Office—what makes you think your fallen Church is worth my time?"

Each word cut like a blade, stabbing straight into the stranger's heart because Leander was right. Once, they had ruled beside the divine, but the day the High Priest was forced to bow before the 16 Supreme Arbiters was the darkest, most humiliating day in their history.

And though the Church of the Holy Light still endured in secret, they no longer dared to challenge the all-powerful Arbitration Office. They could only act from the shadows, clinging to what influence they had left.

Now, with Leander's words, that last fragile veil had been ripped away—exposing the old wound beneath, still raw and bleeding.

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