Lord Protector Novel

Zeke tossed the gleaming dagger in the Principal’s direction. “Are you going to do it yourself, or do you need me to

help you?”

The Principal felt a cold wave of despair wash over him as he picked up the dagger with trembling hands.

After watching the Principal hesitate for another minute, Zeke snatched the knife back and severed the man’s

tendons himself. As the man groaned and whimpered in pain, Zeke cleaned the dagger and replaced it up to his

sleeve. He had no time to waste.

He turned to look at Sesame Cookie, who was practically trembling like a leaf in the wind now.

A high-pitched sound was coming from Sesame Cookie’s throat as the smell of urine spread into the air. A dark

stain was growing on the front of his pants.

Sesame Cookie couldn’t believe the unbelievable sight in front of his eyes. He had thought the man’s sidekick from

yesterday was strong enough already, but he had never imagined that the man himself to be powerful enough to

dodge literal bullets.

Sesame Cookie suddenly found himself doubting if the leader of the Ancient Tomb Sect was even a match for Zeke.

“Take me to see the other people from the three other Houses,” Zeke said coldly. “Anyone who tried to touch my

daughter needs to pay.”

Sesame Cookie had already wet his pants out of pure, undiluted fear. He was not about to say another word in

objection. “I’ll bring you there immediately.” He winced, trying to inch away from Zeke.

As Sesame Cookie cringed his way out from the office with Zeke behind him, they were met by the sight of Mr.

Collins playing with Missy.

It was obvious that Mr. Collins doted on Missy with delight, like a grandfather to his beloved granddaughter. He even

kneeled for her to ride on his back like a horse.

Zeke found himself torn between laughing and crying. “A mighty Navy SEALs captain acting like a little girl’s horse?

Come on, Collins, get up—don’t let anybody see you like this.”

Mr. Collins just laughed in genuine delight as he put Missy down gently. “It’s fine, Zeke. You should hear what Missy’s

been calling me.”

“Grandpa,” Missy shrilled in her high, chiming voice. “Grandpa, you can put me down—I know you’re tired!”

Mr. Collins grinned at Zeke. “You hear that? Grandpa! Worth it.”

Zeke shook his head, frowning fondly. The old man was blatantly making a move against him - not that he minded;

Mr. Collins was a dear friend of his.

“Help me look after Missy for a while,” Zeke said, reaching down to pat his daughter’s head fondly. “I have some

things I need to settle. I also need you to notify Hunting Wolf to come over and help me clean up the scene.”

Mr. Collins sobered quickly even as he held a squirming Missy in his arms. “Yes, Sir.”

If Hunting Wolf was needed for a ‘cleanup’, it looked like the Great Marshal was up to something huge again.

Stepping into the car, Zeke let Sesame Cookie drive. He sat beside him in the shotgun seat, closing his eyes as if he

were going to rest.

As they drove down the road, numerous plots to kill Zeke there and then, or even try to jump down from the car

and make his escape flashed through Sesame Cookie’s head.

He was even considering crashing the car deliberately. The conclusion was clear. He could not fall into Zeke’s hands

at any cost.

The man had crippled all his partners. There was no way he was going to forgive Sesame Cookie once he had

outlived his usefulness.

“Don’t even think about it,” Zeke said calmly. When Sesame Cookie jerked his head to look at him, Zeke’s eyes were

closed while his forehead was fixed in a disapproving frown.

“Of course not,” Sesame Cookie replied hastily. Evidently, Zeke had not let down his guard at all. But how could the

ba****d even know what Sesame Cookie was thinking about when his eyes were closed?

Zeke flicked a finger lightly, shooting a silver needle towards the windscreen in front of Sesame Cookie. The chink

of the needle impacting the glass was barely audible. Piercing straight through the glass, the needle then vanished.

The speed of the needle was too fast. It had pierced the tempered glass of the windscreen without leaving a

spiderweb of cracks.

Sesame Cookie did not see the needle, confusing him. It was not until he felt the stream of cold air rush past his

face from the tiny hole that he realized what had happened.

Sesame Cookie whimpered, trying very hard not to wet his pants again. Zeke had to be an eldritch abomination of

some kind. There was no other explanation for his freakishly far-reaching power. Only the fingers of an old God

could hold so much power in them.

After snapping his eyes open, Zeke shot him a withering glare. “Let me assure you. I’m one hundred percent

confident that I can kill you first before you even think of making a move. Don’t even bother trying it.”

Sesame Cookie shrank away from the other man, his face paper white. “I understand.”

Not long after that, Sesame Cookie parked the car at the gates of a traditional teahouse.

“This teahouse is a front for one of the Mount Ymir Sect’s bases,” Sesame Cookie said, stuttering his every word.

“The people who tracked Missy yesterday are here keeping a lookout.”

“Go on.” Zeke prodded him forwards, a stone-cold expression on his face. “Go inside.”

With Sesame Cookie leading the way, Zeke entered the teahouse. Inside the teahouse, business was less than

good. Many of the tables were empty, while a burly man watching the counter looked like a thug with a beard.

Everything was so far out of the normal that it was almost hilarious.

Zeke had to conclude that the teahouse was definitely a front. This building traded not in tea but likely in something

far more illegal.

The bearded thug at the counter spared a glance at Zeke. It looked dismissive enough, but Zeke could read the

thread of sudden alarm that passed through his eyes.