Chapter 385: A Heart Consumed by Hatred
A Heart Consumed by Hatred
Under normal circumstances...
The hot-tempered Steffan would have been aroused within moments by such content.
But today...
His expression remained utterly blank.
Then his eyes slowly lowered.
They settled upon the bandaged wound beneath his waist.
An indescribable emptiness filled his chest.
It felt...
As though a part of his very identity had been ripped away forever.
The anger inside him erupted like a volcano.
Looking down at his empty crotch, Steffan’s hatred could no longer be contained.
His breathing grew heavier.
Veins bulged across his forehead.
Without another word, he raised his foot.
Crack!
His heel came crashing down onto the unconscious tenant’s neck.
The sound of breaking bones echoed throughout the apartment.
The tenant never woke again.
"Damn cuckold."
Steffan spat out the curse coldly.
He didn’t care who the man had been.
At that moment, he simply needed someone to vent his fury upon.
Standing there for several long seconds, he gradually forced himself to calm down.
Rage alone would never kill Julian.
He had to survive first.
Steffan walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Cold water poured over his filthy body.
The foul stench of garbage, dried blood, and sweat slowly washed away, disappearing down the drain.
Fresh wounds covered nearly every inch of his body.
Bruises.
Cuts.
Deep gashes.
His pale complexion revealed just how much blood he had lost during his desperate escape.
When the shower finally ended, he searched through the apartment.
Inside the wardrobe, he found a clean black T-shirt and a pair of dark pants belonging to the deceased tenant.
Although they fit somewhat loosely, they were far better than his blood-soaked clothing.
He changed into them before walking back into the bedroom.
Opening a nearby cabinet, he quickly found a household first-aid kit.
Nearly every rental apartment kept one for emergencies.
Steffan sat down on the edge of the bed and silently began treating his wounds.
He disinfected every cut.
Applied medicine where he could.
Then wrapped fresh bandages around the injuries covering his body.
Finally...
His trembling hands reached the most devastating wound of all.
The place where his manhood had once been.
His movements slowed.
For the first time since escaping, his hands began to shake uncontrollably.
He carefully replaced the soaked bandages with clean ones.
Even the slightest touch sent unbearable pain coursing through his body.
His breathing became ragged.
Cold sweat formed across his forehead.
When he finally finished wrapping the wound again, he leaned back weakly against the wall.
Silence filled the room.
His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"So..."
"It really is gone..."
No miracle had happened.
No hidden technique had restored it.
No matter how unwilling he was to accept reality...
He had become a cripple in the cruelest way imaginable.
His fingers slowly tightened into fists.
The wound on his palms reopened, staining the fresh bandages with blood once again.
Without a doubt, he was probably the last family member of his bloodline without his manhood.
The thought struck Steffan harder than any wound on his body.
He sat motionless on the edge of the narrow bed, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of a reality he still refused to accept. Fresh bandages wrapped around the injuries covering his body, yet none of them compared to the wound that had stolen not only a part of his body, but also the future he had once taken for granted.
Silence filled the small apartment.
Only the faint hum of the old refrigerator and the occasional sound of traffic drifting in from outside broke the stillness.
His bloodshot eyes slowly lowered.
His fists tightened once again.
The veins on the backs of his hands bulged as every memory from Ashbourne Manor replayed in his mind.
Julian D’Aurelius.
That calm expression.
That mocking confidence.
The sword strike that had destroyed everything.
The more Steffan remembered, the more violently his breathing became.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Every heartbeat seemed to fuel the inferno of hatred burning within him.
"Julian..."
He whispered the name through clenched teeth.
The room itself seemed to grow colder.
Seething with rage, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Mystic Life Fruit that the organization had sent him yesterday.
Since he had already reached the peak of the Gold Realm.
Why not use it to attempt a breakthrough into the Platinum Realm?
His eyes flickered with desperate determination.
As long as he could cross that final barrier...
Everything could still change.
Julian might possess strange techniques.
He might have countless hidden trump cards.
But before absolute strength, every trick would eventually become meaningless.
If he could break through...
He would return overnight.
He would storm straight into Julian’s territory without fear.
He wanted revenge.
He wanted Julian to experience the same despair he had suffered.
He wanted to cut off that bastard’s manhood, dice it into pieces, and stir-fry it with green peppers to quench the hatred that had consumed every corner of his heart.
The murderous thought flashed across his mind without the slightest hesitation.
His expression twisted into one of terrifying malice.
Then...
He reached toward the inner pocket of his discarded, blood-soaked jacket lying nearby.
His hand searched inside.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His movements gradually slowed.
His expression froze.
He suddenly stood up so abruptly that the chair behind him crashed onto the floor.
His eyes widened.
"What..."
He hurriedly searched every pocket again.
Nothing.
His breathing stopped for an instant.
The item...
Was gone.
The Mystic Life Fruit.
Even within the Obsidian Wing organization—a place overflowing with rare treasures and elite experts—it was considered a priceless treasure.
Compared to it...
The Nine Way Cleansing Elixir was insignificant.
Its value couldn’t even begin to compare.
Steffan’s hands began trembling.
His heartbeat quickened.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, the memory returned.
During his desperate escape...
The small box containing the Mystic Life Fruit had fallen from his body.
Everything had happened too quickly.
He had been focused only on surviving.
He hadn’t even noticed when it slipped away.
His pupils contracted violently.
Julian...