Invincible Heir

Chapter 41 Samba submission

In the end, Samba was still one tough specimen of a man. The pain of his shattered wrist drew beads

of sweat from his brow, but he bore it without a peep.

Waldo’s eyes were full of disbelief. For the sake of revenge against Baron, he’d invested five whole

million dollars into hiring the boxing king of Heukwok.

He could never have imagined that Samba would get his wrist broken with a single punch from Baron’s

minion - before even getting to the man himself.

He’d prepared all this to have Baron’s own wife blacked in front of him. The show hadn’t even started

yet – how could it end here?

Baron made his way next to Tracy and gave her a once-over. She was only unconscious. Relieved, he

picked her up and began to walk away.

“Stop right there!” Waldo roared, seeing that his adversary was about to leave.

“I’ve had enough of you!” Charles turned, ready to move on Waldo as well.

“Charles!” Baron barked.

Seeing the events unfold, Waldo laughed maniacally. “At the end of the day, you’re just the piece of

trash who married into a family in decline! You might have a pretty capable goon by your side there, but

you’ll never change the fact that you’re small fry! I’m the son and heir to the Scott Clan. Killing you is

comparable to playtime for me, and there’s nothing you can do about that!”

“Oh?” A smile gleamed on Baron’s face. “Seems you’re quite proud of your status. I wonder if you

could retain that pride if I, say, destroyed the entire Scott Clan.”

“Hah! What a joke! What a joke that is! Who do you think you are, the crown prince of heaven? Even a

Lewis family man would have thought twice before saying something that outrageous!” Waldo brayed

with laughter as if he was on the front row in a stand-up routine.

Exasperated, Baron shook his head. “You really have no idea the hornet’s nest you’re kicking at right

now. I honestly feel sorry for you.”

At that, Waldo only laughed harder.

“Do you really think that – just because you have a somewhat competent thug backing you here – that

you can ‘destroy the entire Scott Clan’ just like that? I’ve investigated your background through and

through. You’re just some grunt! What do you think you are, omnipotent?”

Baron didn’t bother explaining. With a strange smile, he turned to leave.

“You really think that’s all I’ve got?”

With a cold chuckle, Waldo drew a Colt revolver from his hip, levelling the muzzle directly at Baron.

“I’ll admit, I did underestimate you – or at least, I didn’t think your kept goon was at this level, more than

a match even for the Heukwok boxing king I spent a fortune on.”

With a weapon in his hands, Waldo calmed himself, recovering his confident grin. “But even if you’re

capable, do you really think I can’t hit you from this distance?”

Baron’s eyes twinkled. “You’re wrong. He’s not my goon. He’s my brother! You did get one thing right,

though. I really do think you can’t hit me.”

“Don’t give me that shit!”

Waldo spat out the expletive, piqued. “I’m giving you two choices. One – set the woman down. I’ll even

let you leave after I have Samba ravage her for a bit. Two – I shoot you dead right here!”

The way Baron’s carefree aura pressured him was an insult to a man of Waldo’s stature.

Despite his intent to murder Baron, he wasn’t nearly about to allow him an easy death. He wanted

Baron’s conscience screaming at him all the way down to a living hell.

“If that’s the way you want it, I’m giving you two choices too. One – put the gun down, and I’ll walk

away as if nothing happened. Two – pull that trigger, and watch with your own eyes as the Scott Clan

crumbles around you.”

“Ridiculous! There’s no end to your hubris!” Waldo’s rage had reached a boiling point. Nobody had

seen him lose his composure to such a degree in public before.

His index finger twitched on the trigger, but before he could squeeze, a chill landed on his neck.

“Samba!”

Stunned, Waldo looked down to see Samba hold a dagger to his throat.

Even Baron and Charles didn’t expect such a turn of events.

“What the hell are you doing?” Waldo demanded, his face contorting.

“You’re not capable of killing him. And when you fail, you might just drag me along with you. But I can’t

die here!” Samba’s command of the local language was precise, standard.

“You’ve gone mad!”

Waldo flushed with humiliation at the perceived insult. “How could I not kill him at this distance?”

Samba was perfectly calm. “The aura he’s emanating is extremely powerful. Even my master doesn’t

possess an aura of this caliber. The moment you pull that trigger, he’ll end you without hesitation. As

the only witness, he’ll very likely silence me as well.”

“Are you fucking simple? I don’t care how strong he is, how the hell can someone dodge bullets?”

Waldo bellowed and shook with rage. The dagger nicked him, drawing blood.

“Their strength is beyond your understanding. Put the gun down,” Samba said peaceably.

Baron looked at the man with a modicum of interest. He’d taken a broken wrist without making a noise,

and perceived the power of his aura before he’d even made a move. Quite impressive.

“Samba, drop the blade, eh? After I kill them, I’ll give you ten million!” Sensing Samba’s determination,

Waldo switched to the money angle.

But Samba’s will to live was stronger than he’d thought. The boxer shook his head. “You could give me

ten billion and nothing would change. That’s money I can’t live to spend.”

“So you aren’t afraid of the Scott Clan coming down on you after these two take their leave?” Waldo

moved on to threats.

The threat seemed somewhat effective, and Samba’s indecision showed for a moment on his face.

Then he looked to Baron, who stood at the side watching the show, and renewed his determination.

“If you’re going to go that far, then don’t blame me for responding in kind. You can’t spill anything to

anyone if you’re dead.” Samba’s own killing intent flared, and as he finished the sentence, his blade

began to move.

A crisp, metallic clang rang out.

A bottle cap struck the dagger and sent it flying out of Samba’s hand.

In the same instant, Waldo’s pistol found itself in Charles’ hand instead.

Everything had unfolded in a fraction of a second. Waldo had had enough time to feel his throat open.

If the blade had gone just a bit deeper, he would already be dead. As it was, the dagger was still giving

him a decent bloodletting.

Samba was similarly shocked. He hadn’t even perceived how he’d been disarmed, nor how Charles

had taken the revolver.

Rivulets of sweat ran down his back as he stared at Baron, who was giving him a playful look in return.

Terrified, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that – had this man so wishedd – he could have

snuffed him out like a candle.

“Why?” Baron asked, evidently to Samba.

Snapping out of it, Samba took a hurried step back and bowed his head. “I just want to live!”

“Fine. Forget everything that happened here today – or I’ll make you forget everything else.” Despite

the smile on Baron’s face, an endless pressure was crushing down on Samba.

Waldo might not have understood. But Samba was different. He was powerful enough in his own right

to understand the aura coursing through the area.

Aside from his brothers in the Pola Islands and a few higher-ups in the State of Nona, no one else

knew Baron had left Pola. If news of him surfacing in Cona spread out, it wasn’t only the people close

to him who would find themselves in danger. Pola would face a fair bit of trouble as well.

A being on Baron’s level could take on an army on his own, and constituted a substantial threat to

enemy nations. Countless people wanted him dead.

Thud.

Samba dropped one knee to the ground, lowering his head even more. His voice was steely. “I’ll forget Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

everything – but I want to stay by your side!”