Lord Of Martial Arts

"We have three distinguished guests. Serve the good wine!"

shouted the waiter to the kitchen and three jars of good wine flew to the table at once.

Disregarding what anyone might think, Jamison lifted the jar and emptied the entire thing down his throat in one massive gulp.

"No need to rush, Jamison. Take your time," Darren jested, laughing at him. He then called the waiter over.

"Sir, could you please tell me the way to the Five Dangerous Areas?" Darren asked politely.

The waiter shook his head with frown on his face. He had never heard of the Five Dangerous Areas.

"I'm sorry, sir. I do not know of that place," he replied.

"Oh, that's ok, thanks anyway," Darren smiled back.

Bang! Bang!

The wooden gate of the tavern was kicked in, the pieces flying across the room.

Ten men in black robes burst into the tavern. Peculiarly, no aura came off them, it was as if they were dead.

Darren and his companions all turned their heads at the same time to look at who had so brutishly barged in.

'Perhaps the people of the Chaotic Region are just very rude. Better not to meddle in their affairs,' thought Darren to himself.

"Gentlemen, what kind of wine would you like?"

The waiter asked as he came forward to greet these new patrons, but they all just stood there in silence.

"Anything at all?" The waiter pressed further.

Whoosh!

One of them grabbed the waiter by the throat and squeezed tight, saying in a rough and threatening voice, "Cut the crap. This place is ours now. Get out of here right now!"

"Y...es, sir," replied the waiter, struggling through his choking.

His face had turned red and his eyes looked as though they were about to pop out.

"Gentlemen... Take it... easy," the waiter continued, a hand still coiled tightly around his neck.

"Humph!"

The man in the black robe flung the waiter aside in disgust. He hit the ground hard and rolled across the floor before he got to his feet and rushed out.

Not long after, a middle-aged man with his hair disheveled, emerged from the back room.

He appeared to be a little drunk and carried a pot of wine in his hand. His eyes were glazed over and seemed to change with every second. He glanced over at everyone in the tavern, lowered his head to his wine and took a sip.

"Get out of my sight!" growled the man in the black robe.

The middle-aged man nodded repeatedly and staggered out in the waiter's tracks.

Both the waiter and the own

e patriarch of the clan, it was Darren's responsibility to protect him.

But he was in no hurry to get involved yet. He had to see exactly what was going on first and wait for the right moment.

The middle-aged man rolled over and lay on the ground, without making any sound of pain, or any sounds at all for that matter.

"Old bastard, are you going to play dumb?"

A man in a black robe rushed over, grabbed the middle-aged man's arm and broke it.

"Oh, my kings, please let him go. His family has run taverns for generations, and he is just a hopeless man. Please spare him!" pleaded the waiter.

He had once suffered from a strange disease and was on the verge of death when the owner of the tavern saved him. He had stayed to be a waiter since that day, and never left.

Bang!

The waiter's head was crushed to smithereens.

The middle-aged man shuddered violently on the ground. A killing intent flashed through his turbid eyes, but soon disappeared.

"Everyone in the world will die. Go ahead, all of you," he murmured in dejected despair.

"What are you waiting for? Peel his skin!"

"Yes, master!"

Several men in black robes rushed over, ready to torture him.

"How dare you!"

bellowed a man in a purple robe as he appeared out of nowhere.

The men in black robes were stunned. Wasn't this the young man who had just been driven away? Why would he dare come back?

"Kill him!"

A man in black robe rushed over and swung wildly to punch Darren on the head.

Blood splattered all over the room, but it was not Darren's. The man in a black robe had been cut to little chunks by Darren's sword intent.