The King Of War Returns (Jaden Rift) novel Chapter 75

The fight was over. Stanwell lay battered and broken on the floor of the ring, moaning in pain and barely conscious. The crowd, still trying to process what they had witnessed, was a mix of stunned silence and wild uproar. Phones were out, people were shouting, laughing, crying—the entire mini stadium had turned into a riot of emotions.

Jaden adjusted his coat, calm as ever, not a single drop of sweat on his forehead. He began walking toward the edge of the ring to leave.

But then—

"You think it's over?" a voice echoed sharply from the crowd.

Jaden stopped mid-step, turning his head lazily.

A guy in flashy designer clothes, probably one of Stanwell's hanger-ons, stood up from the front row, pointing at Jaden. "Nah, you don't get to walk out like that. This ain't over."

Right then, seven men climbed into the ring.

Each one of them carried weapons. Batons, chains, knives. One of them even had a crowbar. Their smiles weren't friendly.

The entire arena gasped.

"What the hell?!"

"This is mad!"

"Yo, Stanwell brought armed men?!"

"This is cheating! This is low, even for him!"

"I can't believe this... This dude lost and now he wants to gang up?!"

Even the underground bosses and drug dealers watching from the VIP section looked disgusted.

Stanwell coughed and dragged himself up, blood dripping from his nose, one eye swollen shut. He spat out blood, then grabbed a mic from the announcer.

"You think you're gonna walk away with the hundred million you took from me? Huh?!" he growled, pointing at Jaden with trembling hands. "Either you drop it now... or you die in this ring. Either way, you're not leaving with my money."

Jaden tilted his head slightly, looking around at the seven men as they surrounded him.

His eyes were calm. Steady. Almost bored.

He dipped a hand into his coat pocket like he was about to pull out a lighter or a piece of gum.

The crowd held their breath.

"Are you really gonna do this?" Jaden asked quietly.

One of the armed men grinned. "You got guts, kid. But you’re dead."

Jaden sighed. "Nah. I just think you're all jokes."

And just like that, the first guy charged at him with a baton.

Jaden sidestepped, grabbed the man by the wrist, twisted it with a loud pop, then slammed his elbow into the guy’s jaw— a sickening crack followed as the man dropped like a sack.

Another came in with a chain. Jaden ducked the swing, kicked the guy in the kneecap, breaking it, then spun and elbowed him in the throat. He collapsed, choking.

"What the hell is going on?!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Jaden didn’t even flinch. He spun, caught Stanwell's wrist mid-air, twisted it savagely until the dagger dropped. Then, with brutal precision, he snapped the wrist backward.

Stanwell screamed.

"You don't learn, do you?" Jaden said coldly.

He jammed his elbow into Stanwell's shoulder, dislocating it, then slammed a fist straight into his chest—the sound echoed like a drum.

Stanwell went flying, crashing into the corner of the ring, gasping and coughing violently. He didn't get up.

Silence.

Dead silence.

Even the announcer didn’t say a word.

Then someone in the crowd finally broke it.

"HE KILLED HIM!"

"Yo what the hell did we just see?!"

"That's not a fighter. That’s a monster."

Phones were out again, flashing, filming. People screaming, others trying to leave before things got worse.