As those two voices rang out, another four or five people began shouting loudly at the entrance of Henry Carter's cave, their curses filled with utter disdain for Henry Carter.

Hearing these arrogant insults, Henry Carter was momentarily stunned. He quickly put on his shoes and went to the door, only to see four or five senior brothers he had seen yesterday, all looking at him impatiently. Before he could say a word, a sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked man cursed viciously, “Henry Carter, are you a dead pig or what? We’ve been calling you for ages, and you still won’t get up.”

“Yeah, you sleep like the dead! How dare you make us wait for you, you brat!”

“Listen up, kid, if you dare do this again, I’ll beat you to a pulp!”

...

Listening to this filthy language, Henry Carter's expression changed. He shot a cold glance at these men, unconsciously clenching his fists.

“All of you, get lost! Henry Carter is going to help me clean the latrines, so all of you, get the hell out of here!” In a chilling voice, the one-armed James Turner slowly walked over, his expression dark and sinister.

Although James Turner was now missing an arm, judging by the way he walked, the injuries inflicted by Laura Grant had almost completely healed. It seemed that losing that hand had not been in vain.

The men who had been cursing all fell silent, clearly wary of James Turner's fierce reputation. Even though James Turner had lost an arm, he was still not someone they could afford to provoke.

“Henry Carter, hmph, yesterday you dared to disobey me. Come with me, I’m going to teach you a lesson. There are still three feet of filth in the latrine—you’re going to eat it all right now!” James Turner shot a cold, menacing look at Henry Carter, his face twisted with cruelty.

Losing an arm was undoubtedly painful for James Turner, and the root of that pain was, of course, Samuel Reed and Laura Grant. But he didn’t dare resent Samuel Reed; as for Laura Grant, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her either. So he could only direct his hatred at Eric Bennett and Henry Carter, who had refused to carry him. Eric Bennett's cultivation was about the same as his, and with one arm gone, he didn’t dare provoke Eric Bennett, but James Turner still needed to vent his anger, so he came looking for Henry Carter early in the morning.

He had to let off this steam—if he didn’t, he felt like he would explode from the frustration!

Those men who had been planning to bully Henry Carter and make him do their chores immediately perked up at James Turner's words, like green-headed flies drawn to a stench. The sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked guy was especially gleeful, jeering, “Senior Brother Turner really lives up to his name! You’re so creative—yeah, make this brat eat some shit, hahaha...”

“Hurry up, hurry up, Senior Brother Turner, I can’t wait any longer!”

“Junior brother Henry Carter, come with me.” Egged on by the jeers, James Turner grew even more arrogant, giving Henry Carter a cold, sinister smile, as if Henry Carter were a chick in his hand, free to torment as he pleased.

At this moment, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of Henry Carter's mouth. He glanced sidelong at James Turner and asked, “Senior brother James Turner, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Damn it, Henry Carter, let me tell you, I, James Turner, always stand by my word. Since I’ve decided, there’s no turning back—there’s nothing to discuss! I’ll make you pay for refusing me! Now move!”

As James Turner spoke, he reached out to shove Henry Carter.

The moment James Turner's hand reached out, Henry Carter's hand suddenly moved like a nimble snake, twisting around to block James Turner's only hand, while his other palm swung up and slapped James Turner hard across the face!

“Smack!” Before James Turner could even react, Henry Carter had landed a solid slap on his face. Even with only one arm left, James Turner had never suffered such humiliation before. Rage instantly boiled up inside him, and just as he was about to curse, another slap landed, followed by a relentless barrage!

“Smack, smack, smack, smack”—despite his fifth-rank strength, James Turner didn’t even have time to react before Henry Carter gave him a thorough beating!

Chapter 11: Humiliation

The moment he struck, Henry Carter had no intention of giving James Turner any chance to fight back. His hands were not only fast, but also charged with all his true strength. Although James Turner was a rank higher and had reached the realm of innate divine power, his injuries had not yet healed, and with one arm lost, in the blink of an eye, he was completely stunned by Henry Carter's furious assault!

“Bang!” James Turner's body was kicked high into the air, then slammed hard onto the ground, sending a cloud of dust flying all around.

“Henry Carter, you little bastard, how dare you—”

“Bang!” Before James Turner could finish his sentence, Henry Carter's foot smashed into his face again. In an instant, James Turner's face looked like a jar of mixed sauces—red, purple, with fresh blood and congealed blood streaking across, turning him into a grotesque mess!

And that wasn’t all—Henry Carter's foot, after landing, didn’t move away, but instead began to slowly and forcefully grind down.