An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2663

Chapter 2663

The man in the green Daoist robe sneered.
“Looking at him, I’d say even his core has been damaged. How strange… on Fairyharbor Island, besides us, who else could wound Brother Emmitt like this?”

The beautiful woman only covered her mouth and laughed softly, eyes flicking with unspoken thoughts.

Only the burly man stayed silent. Slowly he straightened, pushing the women at his side away. His eyes blazed like cold lightning as he fixed them on Emmitt. His voice was low and heavy with oppression.
“What happened?”

Under the weight of those four gazes—especially the burly man’s—Emmitt’s body trembled.

He swallowed his humiliation, stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head. In a hoarse voice he recounted everything:

Being awakened by Tristan’s group, casually killing mortals, then being stopped by Logan; losing the contest of mental power; finally struck down by thunder and forced to use the secret life-saving method to rebuild his body.

As he spoke, the sneers faded from the faces of the zither-playing man and the Daoist-robed man. Even the beautiful woman’s smile dimmed, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. They had not expected someone so troublesome to appear from outside the island.

When Emmitt finished, the tall man slammed his palm onto the jade armrest.

Boom!

The entire hall shuddered. Ripples shivered across the wine pool; the revelers froze in terror and silence.

“Waste!” the tall man roared, his voice like thunder. “You couldn’t even handle an outsider and nearly got yourself destroyed! You’ve disgraced us!”

He kicked into the empty air.

An invisible force struck Emmitt square in the chest.

“Pffft!”

Already weak, he couldn’t resist. He shot backward like a broken kite, slammed into a thick jade pillar, spat blood, and slid to the floor, wretched and coughing.

Pain lanced his chest, but worse was the humiliation. Resentment flickered in his eyes, but he dared not show it. He struggled back to his knees, head bowed even lower.

The man before him was someone he couldn’t defeat even at full strength—let alone now.

“Brother, calm down,” the feminine man murmured. “From what Emmitt described, that person does have skill—seems to be our equal.”

The Daoist-robed man mused aloud.
“To beat Emmitt at his peak… that’s no small feat. Looks like a big fish has slipped into this ‘blood food.’”

The tall man glanced coldly at Emmitt. The anger in his eyes cooled to something deeper. After a moment’s silence he snapped his fingers.

A beam of golden light shot toward Emmitt.

Emmitt caught it reflexively. In his palm lay a golden pill the size of a longan, round and radiant with vital energy. Faint dragon patterns coiled on its surface.

“This is the Dragon Blood Regeneration Pill,” the tall man said flatly. “It will restore seventy or eighty percent of your strength. Take it. Go. Find that man and the ants who disturbed our peace, and erase them.”

He paused, tone turning glacial.
“If you fail again… don’t come back. Disappear on your own.”

Warmth from the pill seeped into Emmitt’s hand, carrying enormous power. Relief at surviving mixed with hunger for strength—and a black, boiling hatred for Logan, Tristan, and the others.

He kowtowed, voice hoarse but resolute.
“Yes, Big Brother! I will fulfill the mission! I will bring you that man’s head!”

Without daring to linger, he rose with difficulty, lowered his head, and hurried out of the hall.

As his figure vanished, the beautiful woman spoke softly, her voice a silken caress.
“Brother, why waste a Dragon Blood Pill? Let me go. Perhaps I can do it with half the effort.”

The tall man leaned back in his recliner, eyes closed as though the scene had been nothing but a trivial interlude.
“Although Emmitt is useless, he knows the opponent’s methods. One pill is worth the chance to gauge his true strength. If he fails again…” He gave a cold, short laugh. “Then we’ll catch this fish ourselves. For now, keep the music playing.”

Decadent music swelled once more. Wine and laughter resumed, as though nothing had happened—save for the faint trace of blood drifting into the rich aroma of wine and meat.