Chapter 224 You Can Hit the Disciples and the President
Seeing the deterrent stick, the Mystic Alliance disciples clammed up, hearts pounding like crazy.
Larry's crew and Mia's squad just gawked at the stick, totally frozen.
Nobody saw it coming that James would whip out the deterrent stick, crafted by the Mystic Alliance Elder Council.
The name Lancelot hit everyone like a ton of bricks, making it hard to breathe.
Lancelot was a legend, the top dog, the Grand President of the Mystic Alliance.
Larry was all chill at first, but when he saw Lancelot's name, he froze, his grin vanishing.
"Grandpa, what's up?" Damon asked, noticing Larry's weird look. "What happened?"
Ignoring Damon, Larry stepped up, glaring at James. "Kid, where'd you get that treasure?"
"Treasure?" James smirked. "So you know what it is."
This confirmed the stick's power.
"Cut the crap, where'd you get it?" Larry's voice got all serious. "Spill it, or you're dead."
"A few days ago, I joined the Rosewood City Mystic Alliance as a martial arts advisor. President Richard gave it to me," James said, not holding back. "He said it could command thirty-six presidents and three hundred thousand disciples. President Green, is that true?"
Larry's face changed, remembering Richard had a deterrent stick but never thought he'd hand it to James.
The kicker was James being a Mystic Alliance disciple, meaning he legally had it and could use it.
With the stick, Larry couldn't lay a finger on James.
"President Green, I'm asking you," James pressed. "Doesn't this stick command thirty-six presidents and three hundred thousand disciples?"
Larry's face darkened, staying silent.
Damon yelled, "James, what stick? Stop being so old-fashioned!"
A bunch of girls mocked James, calling him childish for showing off a stick.
"Useless? Really? Let's see," James said, raising the stick.
He smacked a disciple in the face, leaving a bloody mark.
The disciple screamed, covering his cheek, stepping back, eyes furious but not daring to fight back.
James didn't stop, knocking down two more disciples, leaving them bleeding and miserable.
The disciples backed off, and James pointed the stick at them. "Don't move!"
They froze, standing there, fuming but stuck.
"Seems useful," James said, moving forward, striking down more disciples.
One by one, they bled, writhing in pain, eyes filled with rage, but they didn't dare fight back.
Lancelot was someone they couldn't mess with.
John and his crew were stunned, not expecting the stick to pack such a punch.
Damon's eyelids twitched, his sense of security shaken.
James struck down the last disciple, standing before a grim-faced Larry.
Larry said, "James, don't push it."
James didn't waste any words, "Kneel!"
Everyone was shocked, wondering, 'Making Larry kneel? Is James nuts?'
'A small-time doc, what right does he have to make a Mystic Alliance president kneel?'
'Could the stick really scare Larry?'
John and the girls didn't buy it.
Larry's eyes flared with anger. "James! That's enough!"
"Kneel down!" James pointed the deterrent stick at Larry. "You gonna defy Mystic Alliance rules?"
Larry was fuming. He could snap that stick like a twig, but he didn't dare. The name Lancelot weighed on him like a boulder. Pissing off Richard was one thing, but Lancelot? That could be a death sentence.
"Kneel down!" James's voice was ice-cold.
Larry finally dropped his head, gritting his teeth, fists clenched, trembling a bit, and slowly knelt before James.
The crowd was in shock, many rubbing their eyes. The president of the Los Angeles chapter, a martial arts master, now kneeling before a son-in-law living with his wife's family? Was Larry too weak, or was James too bold?
But Larry knelt.
What happened next blew everyone's minds even more.
"This stick is for your rude attitude and tarnishing the Mystic Alliance."
"This stick is for your ignorance and bias."
"This stick is for bullying the weak and innocent."
James struck Larry seven times, each blow landing on his back, drawing blood. Larry, despite his strength, showed pain and swayed with each hit. He was furious but didn't dare fight back.
The crowd was bewildered and scared. Seeing the president of the Los Angeles chapter beaten like a dog was unreal.
Larry's fall made Damon's supporters break out in a cold sweat. They quietly distanced themselves from Damon, pretending not to know him well.
Damon and John were fuming, wishing they could strangle James. How could a small-time doc be so tough?
But they believed Larry, humiliated today, would stop at nothing to get back at James.
Damon knew Larry's ways well and was sure that within a month, Larry would destroy James and his family.
"Do you accept these seven strikes?" James asked Larry.
Larry's eyes were filled with venom and frustration, but he nodded. "I accept."
He planned to take revenge on James soon.
James looked at Larry and smiled. "I think you don't really accept it. Given the chance, you'll definitely come after me."
Larry clenched his fists. "I accept, I really accept."
"Accept?" James smiled. "Fine, then I'll cripple you."
Without warning, he kicked Larry in the gut. Larry tried to dodge but was too slow. He felt a sharp pain, his strength draining away. His fists loosened, and he fell heavily to the ground, pain etched on his face.
Larry roared, "James, what did you do?"
"Nothing, just shattered your Energy Core," James said indifferently. "So you'll bow down for good."
Without this beating, Larry would have kept shouting to kill him. Now, with the seven strikes and the humiliation of kneeling, Larry would definitely seek revenge. So James crippled him.
Dealing with a cripple was a hundred times easier than dealing with an intermediate martial artist.
"Bastard!" Larry roared, trying to get up, but his steps were unsteady, his breathing rapid. He was shocked and angry, shaking his hands to gather strength, only to find it leaking away. He wobbled, spat out blood, and his eyes filled with despair. "Bastard, shameless."
James didn't even look at Larry, turning to kick Damon away.
"Nathaniel, break Damon's limbs and drive him out of Rosewood City." Without even glancing at Larry, James turned and kicked Damon, sending him flying.
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