The Deadly Assassin Robin (Tristan Storm) novel Chapter 1374

The icy winds atop Mount Netheris howled relentlessly.

The vast arena was silent, save for the sharp echoes of Jaxon's palm strike still reverberating through the air.

All that remained was Hacyon's desperate cries.

"You brought this upon yourself!" Jaxon sneered, coldly glancing at Arthur's plummeting figure before turning to walk back toward the Third Syndicate's seating.

"Wha—? He ... he stopped himself!"

A chorus of gasps and shrieks erupted.

Every pair of eyes in the arena burned with sheer disbelief.

Jaxon whirled around, his gaze locking onto Arthur—

And what he saw momentarily petrified him.

Amid the roaring mountain winds, Arthur's frail, bloodied body stood defiantly at the very edge of the cliff.

Only the front third of his feet remained on solid ground.

The rest of him hovered over the abyss.

Loose pebbles skittered past his heels, tumbling into the void below.

A single breath of wind—a single misstep—would send him plunging to his death.

"Cough, cough ... "

Arthur swayed violently, spitting mouthfuls of blood.

Yet his battered frame refused to yield, still anchored to the crumbling cliffside.

The crowd held its breath, hearts clenched in dread—waiting for the seemingly inevitable disaster to unfold.

However, Arthur, strong-willed as ever, fought desperately to maintain his balance.

Even if the odds were a million to one—he would claw his way back.

Because Robin had taught him that the meaning of life is one word—win.

A life without victory is a life wasted.

A gifted youth, yet he chased neither fame nor fortune, letting this fleeting life pass by without ever truly shining in brilliance.

A fleeting existence without purpose—

How was that any different from an ant surviving and crawling mindlessly toward death?

To hell with rules, limits, and the chains of dogma.

To hell with privilege, birthright, and the cages of circumstance.

So what if I don't have noble blood? I'll forge my own legacy.

So what if I don't have a lofty lineage? I'll carve a name so radiant, it blinds the heavens.

Life is but a flicker—a hundred years, gone in a blink.

We may be born as insignificant as ants, as fleeting as dust.

But with an unbreakable will to win—

Even the worst hand can defy the heavens.

After coughing up a dozen more mouthfuls of blood, Arthur finally steadied himself.

He sucked in a ragged breath, then flashed a bloody, triumphant grin. "Jaxon ... you lost. Kneel down in front of me and grovel in the dirt like a beaten dog."

He threw a cocky wave at Robin.

Robin responded with a proud thumbs-up—fueling Arthur's fire even further.

The crowd stared in awe at the boy bathed in the sunlight.

Though he was drenched in blood and teetering on the brink of death, his spirit blazed so fiercely, it stunned every soul present!

Even the Thirteen Guardians were shaken.

No one had ever dared speak such treason.

The Dark Syndicate's laws were clear: Insulting those of higher rank or cultivation is punishable by death.

Valdor's face twisted in fury as he pointed at Arthur. "You insolent brat! The law decrees—those who defy authority shall die!"

Arthur lifted his chin, unflinching. "Master Carrington, tell me—what is 'authority'? Are the powerful born that way?

"By the rules of this duel, Jaxon failed to defeat me in three strikes. That makes me the victor—I'm the authority now!

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