Free Web NovelChapter 247: The Choice of the Tyson Family
The Choice of the Tyson Family
"I’m sorry, but the Tyson family would rather die standing than live kneeling."
Wren Tyson let out a heavy, cold snort.
His voice echoed throughout the reception hall like a blade striking stone.
The atmosphere instantly became tense.
Outside the windows, sunlight still illuminated the estate grounds, but inside the hall, the air seemed to have grown several degrees colder.
Every member of the Tyson Family unconsciously straightened their backs.
Several younger disciples clenched their fists.
Fear existed.
Of course it did.
The man standing before them was a mid-Gold Realm monster.
Yet some things mattered more than fear. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
Wren’s gaze slowly shifted toward Elder Smith as he continued speaking.
"Sorry to trouble you, Elder Smith."
His words were polite.
His eyes, however, carried expectations.
After all, Voidspring Mountain had maintained close ties with the Tyson Family for many years.
At a moment like this, everyone naturally hoped the sect would stand beside them.
Smith gently placed his teacup down.
The porcelain produced a soft click against the wooden table.
Then he smiled slightly before looking toward Steffan.
"Mr. Steffan, I didn’t expect to meet you here. Why are you causing trouble for the Tyson Family?"
His tone was quite polite, even carrying a hint of respect.
The moment those words left his mouth, the expressions of many Tyson Family members changed.
The hall suddenly became much quieter.
Several elders exchanged uneasy glances.
Even outsiders who had come to watch the situation frowned slightly.
Respect?
Why was Elder Smith showing such respect?
Could Voidspring Mountain be related to this Steffan?
The possibility immediately emerged in everyone’s minds.
Wren Tyson’s expression remained calm.
Yet the hand resting on his wheelchair tightened slightly.
Yana Tyson also noticed the subtle problem.
Her orange eyes narrowed.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Meanwhile, Steffan stood calmly at the center of the hall.
Not a trace of nervousness could be found on his face.
The pressure from dozens of martial artists seemed meaningless to him.
He looked around the room as though he were surveying territory that already belonged to him.
Then he answered.
"Because I need some helpers, and it’s their honor."
Steffan replied with a calm demeanor.
His voice wasn’t loud.
Yet every person present heard it clearly.
Arrogant.
Overbearing.
Domineering.
And yet...
He spoke the most domineering words in the most tranquil tone, taking the art of showing off to the extreme.
The room fell silent.
Several younger disciples almost exploded from anger.
One elder nearly crushed his teacup.
What kind of nonsense was that?
Their honor?
Who gave him the right to decide such a thing?
Steffan stood motionless.
His expression never changed.
The confidence radiating from him felt almost unreasonable.
It was as though he genuinely believed himself above everyone present.
As though he had become the center of the world.
I am the will of heaven!
At another table, Julian D’Aurelius quietly took a sip of tea.
Then his thoughts naturally began wandering.
[Ah, as expected of you, Martial Art King.]
[The moment you speak, you exude the aura of a king of pretentiousness. Obsidian King Evan is nothing compared to you.]
[Just be careful on rainy days, don’t go challenge heaven in rain and get struck by lightning.]
Cherry immediately lowered her head.
Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Not because she was afraid.
Because she was desperately trying not to laugh.
The voice had appeared again.
And once again, nobody else reacted.
It was as if she alone could hear this strange inner monologue.
Steffan’s imposing image almost collapsed in her mind.
Meanwhile, Julian continued thinking.
Julian D’Aurelius was a bit overwhelmed by this guy’s pretentiousness.
When the Tyrant System spoiled the plot, it also briefly introduced his identity.
This guy was known as the Martial Art King.
[Let me guess.]
[Poor background.]
[Some mysterious old master picked him up.]
[Spent years fighting mercenaries, warlords, assassins, underground kings, hidden organizations, evil corporations, and probably a guy named Shadow Emperor somewhere.]
[Eventually became the strongest fighter in the region.]
[Then came back thinking he’s the protagonist of the world.]
Julian almost admired the consistency.
The templates never changed.
[According to the feel-good novel setting, such an identity usually means the Martial Art King returns to find his wife and kids living in a doghouse.]
[Then, in a fit of rage, the Martial Art King summons ten thousand soldiers.]
[Each one should logically slap him for disappearing for years.]
[Instead, they spend three hundred Chapters helping him show off.] freewebnøvel.coɱ
Cherry stared blankly at her teacup.
The more she listened, the more absurd it became.
Yet strangely...
She couldn’t deny that some of it sounded surprisingly reasonable.
Julian continued mercilessly.
[Oh no, it’s ten thousand soldiers coming back to help him show off, slap faces, and crush enemies.]
[Fortunately, this is Valemont.]
[Even if he could call ten thousand soldiers, they wouldn’t be able to come.]
[Thank heavens for geography.]
This gave Julian some peace of mind.
Otherwise, fighting ten thousand soldiers, even with his IQ of 251, he wouldn’t survive to the end of the story.
Cherry blinked.
IQ 251?
Where did he even get these numbers?
At this point she wasn’t sure which was more mysterious.
The voice.
Or the person producing it.
Nearby, Yana couldn’t hear any of it due to the distance.
She simply continued staring at Steffan coldly.
Meanwhile, Cherry was listening to a completely different conversation taking place inside Julian’s head.
War God of the Northern Realm?
What is that?
Cherry was genuinely confused.
She had never heard such a title before.
Was it some foreign martial arts organization?
A hidden force?
A secret household?
But when Julian said this guy was showing off, she understood.
That much was obvious.
The entire hall could feel it.
Even Steffan’s standing posture practically screamed confidence.
Across the room, Smith maintained his polite smile.
The expression only made several Tyson Family members increasingly uneasy.
Nobody knew what he was truly thinking.
Steffan glanced toward him briefly.
The two men’s eyes met.
For a fraction of a second, something passed between them.
It happened so quickly most people missed it.
Julian did not.
His golden eyes quietly observed everything.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The hall remained locked in a tense stalemate.
One side demanded submission.
The other refused.
Neither appeared willing to back down.
Finally, Wren Tyson spoke again.
His voice was colder than before.
"The Tyson Family owes you nothing, there’s no reason for us to be your helpers."
Wren Tyson said coldly!
