Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System

Chapter 169: Mask of the Fallen

Mask of the Fallen

"Guests... could you please open the door?"

The pounding came again.

Heavy.

Relentless.

Not the polite knock of hotel staff.

The kind of knocking that felt like a siege.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The suite door trembled faintly in its frame.

Outside, voices overlapped in complete, ridiculous chaos.

"Family, everyone’s waited two hours—we’re finally about to see the pig-killer brother!"

A young streamer whispered excitedly into her phone, though her voice was so loud it defeated the purpose entirely.

Her camera light glowed in the hallway.

Beside her, another woman tilted her phone toward the door and giggled.

"Brothers, send Little Beauty some gifts, okay? Little Beauty has been live almost three hours waiting for this moment!"

Digital hearts flooded her screen.

Virtual roses.

Rocket gifts.

Comments exploded so fast they blurred.

Open the door!

Who’s inside?!

Fortieth-floor romance legend!

Is the brother still alive?

Someone in the crowd nearly choked laughing.

Inside the room—

Lucas felt his soul leaving his body.

A livestream.

There was actually...

a livestream happening outside.

His face turned green.

Then white.

Then green again.

For a moment, even facing life-and-death enemies had never made him feel such terror.

He had heard the domestic streaming industry was prosperous.

But this...

this was barbaric.

No—

this was demonic.

He had underestimated civilization.

If this spread online—

If clips circulated—

If someone from the martial world saw—

His scalp went numb.

How would he ever show his face again?

Would the younger generation whisper when he passed?

Would old enemies smirk behind folded fans?

Would future historians remember him not as a prodigy of the Obsidian Wing...

not as a genius who shook provinces...

but as—

Mr. Long-lasting Lucas?

His whole body shuddered.

A cold tremor ran down his spine.

"No..."

His lips twitched.

"Impossible..."

He looked genuinely on the verge of internal deviation.

Outside—

BANG!

Another knock.

Panic sharpened his thoughts.

Fortunately, Lucas had always been quick-witted.

Even cornered, his instincts moved.

He rushed to the window.

Perhaps... another route.

He pushed it open.

Cold night wind slammed into his face.

Fortieth floor.

He looked down.

The city lights far below seemed like stars at the bottom of an abyss.

Even at full strength, jumping from here meant certain death.

And now?

In his depleted state?

Suicide.

Behind him, the pounding intensified.

"Guests, please cooperate!"

His jaw clenched.

He couldn’t remain in the room.

Not now.

Not with those cameras.

Then suddenly—

An idea.

After a long breath, he gritted his teeth and reached into a hidden pouch.

A human skin mask.

Thin.

Meticulously crafted.

He had made it to resemble Julian D’Aurelius.

A contingency.

A future trap.

He had never expected to use it like this.

His fingers trembled as he put it on.

Because face structures differed, it could never be identical.

Only six... perhaps seven-tenths resemblance.

But enough.

Lucas stared into the mirror.

A distorted Julian stared back.

"That’s enough."

His voice dripped hatred.

Since he couldn’t escape this humiliation—

he would drag Julian down with him.

Let that bastard take the fall.

Before leaving, his gaze shifted.

To the unconscious Thalia.

A beastlike loathing crossed his eyes.

He took out a black pill.

Slow-acting poison.

No immediate death.

One week.

Then sudden heart failure.

Silent.

Untraceable.

He forced it into her mouth.

"You defiled me..." he whispered coldly.

"You do not deserve to continue living."

His voice was almost shaking.

Whether from fury or trauma, even he did not know.

Then he rose.

Opened the door.

And stepped into judgment.

The corridor erupted.

Gasps.

Phones lifted.

Stream lights flashed.

People stared at him like spectators watching some carnival monster.

Lucas’s humiliation ignited into murderous rage.

"Get lost!"

His roar echoed.

Smack!

He slapped away several streamers’ phones.

One girl shrieked.

"My phone!"

Another yelled to her audience,

"He’s escaping! Family, he’s escaping!"

Lucas nearly coughed blood.

He rushed toward the emergency exit.

Only one thought remained.

Escape.

Escape this cursed hotel.

Cleanse himself.

Burn his skin if necessary.

Everything felt filthy.

Disgust crawled under his flesh.

So disgusting.

He flew down stairwells.

Fortieth.

Thirty-fifth.

Thirtieth.

Twenty-fifth.

At the twentieth floor—

he stopped.

Four figures blocked the emergency exit.

Scythe Division.

His own men.

Hemil at the front.

Lucas almost exhaled in relief.

At least some order remained.

He opened his mouth to command—

But Hemil moved first.

Like a viper.

Boom.

His fist crashed into Lucas’s face.

Caught completely off guard, Lucas staggered back.

Vision exploded.

He hit the ground hard.

Landing on his backside.

Pain surged.

"What are you doing?!"

Lucas exploded.

His own subordinates dared strike him?

Hemil didn’t even blink.

He pointed accusingly.

"Tang Yu! Today is your death day!"

Then all four charged.

Perfect coordination.

Like wolves.

At that moment Lucas was already severely depleted.

Qi unstable.

Limbs heavy.

Even with frantic resistance, he still took several brutal hits.

A knee to ribs.

An elbow to shoulder.

A palm strike to chest.

He coughed blood.

And then—

under the assault—

he remembered.

The mask.

Idiot!

He was still wearing Julian’s face.

With sudden panic he jumped back.

Ripped off the human skin mask.

And shouted with furious disbelief,

"Idiots—it’s me!"

Silence.

For a heartbeat the stairwell froze.

Hemil stared.

The other three stared.

Then one whispered,

"...Young Master Lucas?"

Another blinked.

"No... impossible."

Hemil narrowed his eyes, acting shocked almost too perfectly.

"You mean..."

He looked at the discarded mask.

Then at bruised, furious Lucas.

Then sucked in a dramatic breath.

"Brothers..."

He pointed accusingly.

"He disguised himself as Young Master Julian to trick us!"

Lucas nearly lost consciousness from rage.

"You dog!"

But before he could lunge—

Hemil grinned inwardly.

And the game... was only beginning.

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Authors Notes: Dear Readers, Thanks so much for joining me on this adventure! Your enthusiasm, feedback, and encouragement really keep me motivated to keep bringing *Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System* into existence. If you’re loving the Chapters, I’d love it if you supported my book with a Powerstone, review, or even a Golden Ticket—it helps me develop as a writer and lets more readers enjoy the story. I look forward to hearing your ideas and thoughts, so please don’t hesitate to share!

With love,

Saturn_Virgo_777

Creator of Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System

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