Love at the Wrong Table (Emmanuel Lowe and Mackenzie) novel Chapter 1892

Chapter 1892

His gaze remained fixed on a particular pile of rubble, an unsettling calm

before the storm. Then, in an instant, the darkness within him receded,

replaced by a calculated silence. He moved toward the ruins with a

deliberate grace, intent on catching whatever lay hidden off guard and

delivering a crushing blow.

Boom!

Despite his careful plotting, the ruins erupted prematurely, and from within, a

crimson figure sprang forth, as if defying the very fabric of expectation.

“Stay here!”

Rhett’s punch cut through the air with lethal intent, aimed at subduing the elusive fighter who had been ensconced within the Quillen residence. His

confidence was unshakable–he was, after all, the reigning monarch of Dark

Night Island.

Yet as his fist neared the opponent’s cloak, the force of his strike dissipated

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Chapter 1892 The Clash of Shadows

into nothingness. The figure used the diversion to vault onto a charred tree,

its presence a daunting silhouette against the smoldering backdrop.

Rhett’s heart skipped a beat. The figure’s cloak, nearly identical in hue to his

own, was only a shade more crimson, suggesting an opponent whose

strength might rival his own.

“Who are you?” Rhett demanded, his voice a low growl.

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The cloaked man, his face obscured by an Envoy Aora mask, regarded Rhett

with equal caution. He had lain in wait within the Quillen residence,

anticipating Emmanuel’s return to ambush and annihilate the couple. The

appearance of another formidable adversary was an unforeseen

complication.

“Holy Guardian, Rhett.” The man’s voice bore a hint of mockery. Rhett’s

respect for formidable opponents was undeniable, and this individual’s

prowess warranted a response in kind.

“And you? Why have you been skulking in the Quillen residence?” Rhett’s voice

Chapter 1897 The Clash of Shadows

grew steely, a subtle menace creeping in.

“Haha, you are scarcely worthy of knowing my identity.” The masked man’s

words were laced with deliberate provocation, his demeanor dismissive.

“Then you shall not leave here alive.” Rhett’s eyes ignited with a fierce

intensity as he took a menacing step forward.

“In this world, if I choose to leave, no force can detain me.” The Envoy Aora

tensed, his aura radiating a formidable power.

“Let me test that claim.” Rhett’s cape whipped out with sudden violence.

Though crafted from a supple material, it spun with the deadly precision a

steel blade, its edges razor–sharp and ready to slice through flesh.

Boom!

The Envoy Aora leaped nimbly from the tree, narrowly avoiding the spinning

cape. The tree toppled with a thunderous crash behind him.

“Heh heh, let’s see you withstand this!” The Envoy Aora unleashed a torrent of

Chapter 1892 The Clash of Shadows

flames from beneath his cloak.

Rhett’s eyes narrowed, astonished by the unexpected display of fire. Though

the flames lacked the searing intensity of the Queen of the Dark Night Islands‘

fire, their breadth was broader, and their concealment more profound.

The Envoy Aora believed his flames had found their mark, but he soon

discovered they halted abruptly, unable to advance beyond half a meter

from Rhett.

“Such formidable energy,” the Envoy Aora murmured in astonishment.

“Not bad, you’re worthy of being my opponent.” A sheen of cold sweat broke

out on Envoy Aora’s brow as he finally conceded the formidable prowess of

his adversary.

Rhett’s lips curled into a disdainful sneer. His crimson cape, seemingly

animated by its own will, writhed and spiraled, attacking from an unexpe ea

angle.

“Don’t get too cocky!” The Envoy Aora’s tone was laced with fury. He gathered

a gale of power, deftly evading the cape and unleashing a full–force punch

aimed straight at Rhett.

Rhett, unflinching, met the challenge head–on.

Chapter 1002 The Clash of Shadows

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Their fists clashed In a thunderous collision, creating a brief moment of

perfect balance. But the force of their confrontation had catastrophic

repercussions. The surrounding landscape was ravaged, swept away as if by

an unrelenting hurricane, leaving devastation in its wake.

Splat.

The exertion of their struggle caused Rhett’s old wounds, remnants of battles

fought on Dark Night Island, to burst open anew. Pain surged through him, a

debilitating reminder of his vulnerability. To an ordinary fighter, such injuries

might be trifling, but in a duel of masters, even the smallest flaw could b

fatal.

“You’re finished!” The Envoy Aora’s eyes gleamed with lethal intent as he

advanced, his strike poised to pierce Rhett’s heart.