An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2614

Chapter 2614

After dealing with the corpse poison crisis, Logan’s hatred for the White Bone Cult had reached its peak.

Plague, red fog, corpse poison—each one was a brutal method of mass destruction.

Even though he had done everything he could to stop them and save lives, tens of thousands still perished. The four major cities of the southern frontier had suffered varying degrees of devastation.

This was too reactive. Too passive.

If the White Bone Cult pulled another stunt, who knew how many more innocent people would die?

The only way forward now was to wipe them out completely—to end this nightmare and restore peace to the region.

After returning to Pucheng, Logan didn’t even stop to rest. He went straight to find Grace.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” she said the moment he walked in.

“What’s the good?” Logan asked. “And the bad?”

“The good news is, my gun locked onto the location of the White Bone Cult’s altar. The bad news? The remnants are planning something else—something new,” Grace replied.

“Tell me where it is. I’ll handle it.” Logan’s tone was flat, but his eyes burned with killing intent.

Grace motioned, and Stevie handed her a map.

She spread it open on the table and pointed at a red-marked location. “Here. All my scouts went missing around this area. I’m sure the altar is nearby.”

“Finally found those filthy rats.” Logan narrowed his eyes. The look in them was murderous. “Watch me—I’ll finish them all off.”

The words had barely left his mouth before he shot into the air, vanishing in a beam of light.

Grace opened her mouth, as if to say something, but only let out a long sigh in her heart.

…

Half an hour later, deep in a remote swamp in the southern frontier.

The fog was thick like black ink, clinging to the trees and water like something alive.

Logan flew low over the swamp, his boots just skimming the misty surface. Bubbles popped beneath him. A child’s skeletal remains peeked out from under rotting leaves, red string still tied around its tiny fingers.

“Waaa… waaa…”

A baby’s cry echoed eerily from the fog.

But after a few heartbeats, the cry twisted into a sharp, cruel laugh.

Figures in tattered white robes leapt out from the trees—remnants of the White Bone Cult. They hurled bone spears laced with dark green venom like they were launching heavy artillery.

Logan didn’t even blink. He flicked his hand casually.

The bone spears disintegrated mid-air—turned to dust, as if they never existed.

The cultists froze, stunned.

Too late.

Logan raised his left hand, fingers forming a sword seal, and slashed downward.

“Shhhk!”

A flash of golden light split the air.

The bodies of over a dozen cultists went rigid, their heads toppling like loose stones, splashing into the swamp where they slowly sank.

“Fast blade.”

A hoarse voice drifted through the fog, laced with the scent of blood.

Bloodhand emerged, stepping on the back of a swollen zombie. Each step made the bog bubble red.

“But no matter how fast your sword is,” Bloodhand sneered, “you can’t slice through my river of blood.”

He raised his arms. From each of his ten fingers, several-foot-long streams of blood shot out and crisscrossed into a web in midair. Everywhere they touched, the swamp turned crimson.

Logan sprang up, tapping a dead tree like a crane taking flight. As he soared over the blood net, golden lights burst from his fingers like falling stars.

Each pinpointed a weak spot in the web.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The blood threads exploded one after another.

Bloodhand staggered back three steps, his palms split open with deep, bleeding cracks.

He looked up, spotted the dark mark on Logan’s shoulder, and grinned. “You’re moving with ‘Rotten Bone Fragrance’ in your system? In thirty minutes, your bones will rot into soup.”

Just as he finished speaking, a cloying, sweet scent floated through the fog.

Atop the altar, a woman now stood. She wore a leather gown embroidered with hundreds of tiny, twisted insects. In her hands, she held a black clay bowl filled with squirming purple-black bugs.

“Let’s play, babies!” she giggled, flinging her hand.

The bowl erupted in a cloud of violet mist. The insects flew outward, sinking into the swamp. Moments later, they clawed their way out, now fist-sized and covered in sharp barbs.

Venom dripped from their jaws, hissing on contact with rock.

A halo of golden light suddenly encircled Logan’s body, spinning rapidly.

The insects exploded as they hit the barrier, their venom splattering and producing clouds of thick, purple smoke.

Logan glanced at his shoulder.

The black mark had corroded the fabric. A hole had formed where the clothes had been eaten away.

“Separate, and you die!”

A chilling voice roared.

Bloodhand erupted from the mud like a demon, his mask glinting under the mist.

He swung a whip made from three baby skeletons. Each crack of the bone whip caused ripples in the air.

Logan dodged to the side. The golden light in his palm condensed into a short blade.

He deliberately exposed his left arm, letting the whip coil around it. Just as Bloodhand tried to pull it back, Logan’s blade sliced up the whip and pierced directly into his wrist.

Crack! Bone snapped loudly.

But Bloodhand didn’t flinch. Instead, he tore off his mask with his uninjured hand.

His “face” was made of dozens of broken bones fused together. Inside the eye sockets squirmed two red flesh worms, staring hungrily at Logan’s shoulder.

“Bloodhand. Poisonous Heart. Form the array!” rasped Boneface, his voice like two bones grinding together.

Bloodhand’s blood suddenly thickened, congealing into a cage in midair.

Poisonous Heart’s insects swarmed into a tornado, sealing off all escape routes.

Boneface crushed his broken wrist. The shattered fragments turned into bone needles that launched toward Logan’s major acupoints.

Logan inhaled sharply.

A surge of power erupted from within. His eyes shimmered with a golden glow.

“You want to die? I’ll grant your wish!”