His Lordship Alexander Kane by Useless Caesar

Chapter 0256

‘As good as dead’?

The moment Alexander’s challenge hit the air, Leandro laughed maniacally, wild and unrestrained.

There he stood, the proud second son of the Jackman dynasty, not even thirty and already ranked eighty-third among the Chart of Fighters.

Even the seasoned fighters of the northern realms felt small in his shadow. Since his youth, he had been the

golden boy, one of the mightiest in his powerful clan.

The Jackman family was a northern powerhouse thanks to bruisers like him and, of course, his own iron-fisted

ways.

“It’s been ages since anyone’s had the guts to talk big in front of me!”

Leandro’s laughter faded, and he eyed Alexander with a sneer. “So, I hear you’re the one who took down the Ellis family and brought the Hart dynasty to its knees?

“Let me clue you in: Next to my Jackman family, those families are small fry, not even worth mentioning!

“Think you can mess with the Ellis and Harts and then step to the Jackman family? You’re dreaming! And it’s

not just you-even the mighty New Chesire Group is just a bug waiting to be squashed under the Jackman

boot!”

Alexander just shook his head, slow and deliberate.

with the chit-chat. There was no point in wasting more words on the so-called

and blew

you’re out of the picture, Ol’ Mare, Woolpackton, Tormora-all those underground rackets are mine

the taking!”

nonchalant shake, Leandro’s smirk grew wider, his hands a blur as he prepared to strike. “You first. Then tomorrow, Amber… But before

wait to savor that,” he cackled with

he lunged

a force more daunting than their average Grandmaster. In the blink of an eye, as he launched his attack, his figure turned

Quicker than a flash.

second, Leandro’s right hand might as well have been forged of steel, his fingertips gleaming with a brilliant, metallic shine. With a speed that defied sight, he

of Fighters eighty-third? Nothing

unshaken, his right thumb leisurely rising, lightly pressing against

1/3

paradox-slow to the eye, yet swift beyond measure. Even Asher, who knew nothing of fighters, could see the

counterattack was a masterstroke, a delayed action that preempted the initial strike, a single point shattering the

palm, with deadly precision, smashed right into it. The clash was like metal on metal, a chilling sound that echoed

sharp hiss, and blood flew in all

metal, was impaled by Alexander’s lone finger,

in a gruesome spectacle that covered his

“Bro. Brother!”

stared with eyes wide, his

bodyguards, and even Asher behind Alexander, were all struck dumb, shivering uncontrollably. Their hearts pounded as if they

Had Alex actually won?

family’s

Impossible!