Chapter 732 Sky-Rift Cross Surge

• As long as he could save his own neck, then maybe—just maybe—Lance Robinett would still have the slimmest hope of avenging today’s humiliation and clawing his pride back. But if he lost his head and chose to go down swinging with Eric Goodwell here and now—dragging each other into the abyss so he could die “gloriously”—only an idiot would make that call. And Lance Robinett was no idiot.
• Meanwhile, the ones who’d been crushed by Lance earlier—Doug McCoy, the white‑haired elder, and the others—were all struck dumb by what they were seeing. Their mouths opened and shut, but for a long moment, not a single complete sentence came out.
• The man who had lorded over all, who’d ruled every corner with iron pride—Lance Robinett—was now being hounded by a kid several generations younger, chased like a stray mutt with his head in his hands, scrambling for his life. The contrast with the towering, invincible figure from moments ago was brutal. It felt downright mocking, absurd even—tragic and laughable all at once.