The Deadly Assassin Robin novel Chapter 1369

The two grotesque women from the previous night pushed through the crowd, their beady eyes burning into Robin with pure hatred.

"Priestess Hacyon was right—you're utterly delusional!" one spat.

"The Four Warlords who once dominated Netheris? You're not fit to lick their boots!"

Robin smirked. "Still gargling the Syndicate's lies, I see. Tell me, hogs—what have you ever done besides worship shadows?

"Just look at yourselves, acting like deluded fools.

"Those 'Warlords' would crumble under one punch from me."

The women's lumpy faces twisted in rage, their sausage fingers twitching as if itching to strike.

The provocation sent ripples through the gathered warriors who were here for the Martial Arts Tournament of Mount Netheris.

"Who does this trash think he is? He dares to disrespect the Third Syndicate's legends!"

A thunderous voice cracked through the murmurs.

"Do you even know what kind of force the Four Warlords were back then?

"Under the High Pontiff, Netheris Syndicate flourished because of the Four Warlords and the Eighteen Golden Armor Knights. The Third Syndicate shaped eras with a glance.

"And you think you can eclipse them? You reek of madness."

Robin searched for the voice and saw a group of ten men marching toward him.

A towering figure with muscles like steel cables led them. He looked to be 30 years old.

His eyes harbored a chilling murderous intent as they locked on Robin.

Arthur whispered in Robin's ears. "Mr. Ramsey, that's Jaxon Rose. The Third Syndicate's Peak Grandmaster."

Jaxon began striding toward Robin.

The crowd parted to make a way for him.

"That's Jaxon from the Third Syndicate."

"They say he's already hit the Peak Grandmaster!"

"He's ranked first in the entire Third Syndicate!"

"Rumor says he's Warlord Gabriel's final disciple."

"He's trained in rotation by all Four Warlords and the Eighteen Golden Armor Knights!"

"That man's ruthlessness is legendary—even his syndicate fears provoking him."

"Just his oppressive aura makes anyone below Grandmaster level tremble like leaves."

Robin studied Jaxon's approach.

The man radiated palpable energy—a tsunami contained in human form.

If he had to draw a comparison—

Even Prometheus, the former ruler of the World of Darkness, wouldn't last three rounds against him.

He had an impressive cultivation for his age.

But with mentors like the Third Syndicate's Four Warlords and Eighteen Golden Armor Knights, excellence was expected.

Yet power had clearly bred arrogance. Jaxon carried himself with the swagger of someone who'd never been challenged.

Naturally, Robin's dismissal of the Warlords ignited his fury.

"Which gutter syndicate spat you out?" Jaxon's finger stabbed toward Robin, his neck veins bulging. "How dare you insult my masters!"

Every traveler on Mount Netheris' path froze, holding their breath for the impending clash.

"Who is this nobody?"

"Is he from the First Syndicate?"

"Impossible—they've got no one like him."

"He seems ... pretty close to Hacyon from the Ninth Syndicate."

Robin chuckled. "Your precious Warlords are rotting in unmarked graves. Yet here you are, still worshiping their shadows.

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