Chapter 245

Briscoe’s face turned ghostly pale as he faced Alexander, his will to fight completely shattered,

The War Temple Lord.......

That title, that rank, loomed over him like an insurmountable peak, shaking him to his core.

Forget Briscoe. Not even 10 or 100 like him could have made a ripple in front of the formidable War Temple

Lord.

“Miss Chesire is...” Briscoe started, his voice laced with despair so profound that it seemed to carve into his soul.

“My men took her out to sea on a fishing boat headed for Umbracia. They're planning to sell her off at the black market. If my

guess is right, she’s already hit international waters by now...”

International waters.

Alexander remained stoic, cutting Briscoe off with a swift palm strike.

Briscoe, the Grandmaster of the fighter community, possessing peak energy transformation strength, was slapped in the head.

Without a hint of resistance crossing his mind, he collapsed on the spot and died.

“From this day forward, the northern Ellis family, the Tormora Hart family, are history!”

With those final words, Alexander turned on his heel and marched to the nearest Eagle Wing jet. A commanding gesture from

him and the engines roared to life.

The jet took off.

He was off to Umbracia, to save Amber.

The night was as dark as ink.

Beneath a sky glittering with stars, a 20-meter fishing boat cut swiftly through the open sea. Waves frothed at its sides as it left

the East Sea behind, venturing into the lawless embrace of international waters.

“Hey, Eagle!”

On the deck, a young man with shifty eyes and a cigarette perched on his lip glanced back at the cabin with a sinister grin.

“We're off to Umbracia, and we’re going to be at sea for over a week. Got nothing better to do, so why not have a little fun with

that woman? Let’s enjoy ourselves, eh?”

Eagle, a muscular man with sun-darkened skin, laughed low in his throat. “You talking about Amber? The hotshot from New

Chesire Group, Ol’ Mare’s finest? I’ve had my eye on her for ages.”

“What's stopping us? Let's go!”

With a low, menacing chuckle, the two men made their way to the lower cabin.

Meanwhile, below deck...

Amber was sprawled on the floor, her mouth sealed with layers of tape, her body bound by coarse rope. Her

pale, pretty face bore the marks of a brutal slap.

She bit down hard and tried to sit up, her hands working the rope against a wooden crate. The fibers were

fraying, the knots loosening.

“What's this?”

The two men entered, their eyes raking over Amber's form before one sneered. They moved closer, eyeing the frayed rope.

“Thought you could run? Don’t you know where you are? We're on international waters! Even if you break free, where could you

possibly go? Stupid girl.”

Amber trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

The fishing boat was deep in international waters, drifting further from Ol’ Mare with every passing moment.

“Think you can escape now that we're here? Not a chance!”

The creep leered at Amber's flawless figure, his wicked grin growing wider. “Time to savor Ol’ Mare’s finest beauty! Miss Chesire,

you'd better play nice. My boys and I aren’t known for our chivalry! Hahah!”

As he taunted, his buddy Eagle peeled off his tank top, flexing his bulging muscles, his gaze burning into Amber with an

indescribable intensity.

Amber fought back with all her might. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, her cries muffled by the duct tape over her mouth, her

face the very picture of despair.

The more she squirmed, the more the creep got a kick out of it, reaching out to grope her.

However, just as his grimy hand was about to make contact...

“Trouble!” A panicked shortcut through the air on the fishing boat’s deck, the voice quaking with fear. “Viper, Eagle, get over here!

Grab your weapons, quick!”

“Someone coming! It’s... It's a fighter jet!”