An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2656

Chapter 2656

Boom—!

A deafening roar split the sky. Fairyharbor Island shook as if the world itself were about to crack open.

Where the golden sword-light slammed into the massive palm, a blinding brilliance erupted—bright as the sun, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

The shockwave rolled out like a tidal wave. Towering trees were ripped up by their roots; shattered rocks and splintered branches rained down. The ground itself split into jagged chasms.

Tristan, Matthias, and Nathaniel were hurled backwards, crashing hard into the earth. A metallic tang rose in their throats before they spat blood.

Ignoring the pain, they forced themselves to look up.

High above, the golden sword-light and the giant palm locked in deadlock, gold and white intertwining with a “sizzling” hiss as each force devoured the other.

For the first time, surprise flickered across the handsome man’s face. His brows knit as he turned toward the source of the golden light, a trace of solemnity in his eyes.

He had not expected anyone on this island to block his strike.

A heartbeat later, the golden sword-light flared, ripping the massive palm apart in a spray of radiance before dissipating into the air.

Suspended mid-air, the white-robed man stared at the place where his attack had been broken. His expression was no longer completely indifferent.

His slender fingers curled slightly. That palm strike—though casual—had carried thirty percent of his power since waking. Even a grandmaster should have been obliterated, not dispersed.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his cold voice no longer entirely flat.

Far off, deep within the misty forest, a faint sword intent pulsed—restrained yet vast, like a dragon asleep beneath the mountains.

He narrowed his eyes. Ripples flickered around the halo of light cloaking him.

Compared with the mortals beneath him, this new presence could actually be called an “opponent.”

Without another glance at Tristan and the others, he shifted. The white light around him surged, his body blurring into a streak of brilliance. Like a meteor he tore across the sky toward the forest’s depths, vanishing almost instantly.

Tristan pushed himself up, clutching his ribs, eyes wide as the streak of light disappeared. “You… you’re leaving now?” His voice trembled in disbelief.

The suffocating oppression had barely faded, and yet the enemy had turned and gone. The abruptness left him stunned.

Nathaniel straightened his disheveled robes, still shaky. “That sword-light… it wasn’t ordinary. To make that monster retreat, whoever struck must be terrifyingly strong.”

The memory of the giant hand descending made his stomach twist. Without that golden light, they’d already be corpses.

Matthias slowly uncurled his bloodless fingers from his sword hilt; deep red marks striped his knuckles.

He stared into the forest where the light had gone. “Fairyharbor Island hides secrets. That monster was already beyond belief, and yet someone even stronger lurks here. It’s… unnerving.”

A complicated glint flickered in his eyes.

Milton hobbled over on his broken branch, beard trembling, breath ragged. “I once heard the late emperor say Fairyharbor Island is an ancient immortal land, home to astonishing secrets. Perhaps the one who intervened is an ancient guardian.”

Murmurs rippled through the surviving soldiers—relief at still being alive, mingled with curiosity about the mysterious savior.

Meanwhile, the white-robed man—now a streak of light—had crossed layer upon layer of forest. Ancient trees bowed from the gust of his passing; leaves scattered like a tide.

Within half an incense stick of time, he slowed and descended at the edge of a lake.

The water lay clear as glass, reflecting drifting clouds. On the grassy shore stood a cluster of tents—clearly a treasure-hunting team’s camp.

Sword-energy still lingered in the air, faint but razor-sharp, as though it could slice skin.

The handsome man walked forward. His gaze swept over the guards polishing weapons, then fixed on a stone table at the camp’s center.

There sat a man in white, head lowered, calmly polishing a long sword.

Though his clothes were plain, his posture was straight as a pine. Even seated, he radiated freedom and uprightness.

His profile was like carved jade, sharp yet smooth. Beneath his high nose bridge, thin lips pressed into a line tinged with aloofness.

When he lifted his head, eyes clear as a mountain lake met the handsome man’s gaze—eyes that seemed to see through all things, yet rippled with no emotion.

The sword in his hand gleamed coldly in the sunlight, perfectly matching his presence.

A flicker of surprise crossed the white-robed man’s eyes. Slowly he said, “I didn’t expect to find someone like you on Fairyharbor Island.”

The man in white paused, set the sword down, and raised his head. A faint smile curved his lips.

It was Logan—newly arrived on the island.