The Price of Dignity
Then a determined look appeared on his face.
"Let's finish this with a big fire."
He thought to himself.
The luxury sedan sped down the highway, leaving the Tyson Family estate farther and farther behind.
Outside the windows, the afternoon sun painted the fields in shades of gold. The scenery should have been peaceful.
Unfortunately, Steffan was experiencing anything but peace.
His handsome face remained calm on the surface, carrying the dignity expected of the Martial Art King.
Inside?
It was a battlefield.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that veins bulged near his temples.
His fingers dug into his thighs.
Cold sweat formed on his forehead.
The sensation in his lower abdomen had become increasingly terrifying.
If ordinary people knew what their mighty Martial Art King was enduring right now, they would probably laugh themselves unconscious.
Fortunately, Steffan still had one trump card.
His cultivation technique.
