As his words fell, he whipped out a crescent moon-shaped saber. It’s a classic weapon usually used in ancient times.
A watermelon knife or a dagger was a more common choice in modern society, while a saber like this was rarely seen in street fights. It seemed to exist only on television screens.
With the saber in hand, Britton now exuded a more powerful presence. He wielded the saber high above his head, balancing on one foot in a stance ready to strike. The use of cold weapons could showcase a true soldier’s skill.
After all, in an age where firearms were commonplace, choosing to wield a blade required remarkable courage, and only a true expert possessed this kind of courage.
A cold smirk curled at the corners of Damian’s mouth as he stared at Britton. “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he stamped his foot heavily, so heavily that it seemed to cause the very room to shudder.
The two men fell into a tense standoff.
While the others in the room were on high alert, as if they were waiting to witness a showdown between two mighty warriors.
It’s gonna be an exhilarating contest, a battle of cold weapons, of fists and blades.
“Are they serious? I almost feel they’re filming a movie.” Kent murmured to Cheetah.
“Of course it’s not a movie! Just look at their skills; they’re clearly martial artists,” Cheetah replied.
“My gosh, martial artists? I thought they only existed on screens or in the past.” Kent widened his eyes in disbelief at Cheetah.
Cheetah shot him a glance but remained silent.
Kent continued, “So what should we do? If Damian gets defeated, we…”
Kent stared open-eyed at Cheetah and noticed a slight change in Cheetah’s expression. “Don’t worry. Just see what happens next,” said Cheetah calmly.
After all, he earned the position in Hiphia Underworld not merely through courage, but also strategy.
Finally, after a long standoff, the battle erupted.
Britton was the first to take action. He moved towards Damian with quick, agile strides. As he closed in, he threw out the saber horizontally and had its edge aiming directly at Damian. But instead of charging straight at his opponent, Britton chose to swiftly circle behind him. His hands were balled into fists, and they struck hard at Damian’s back.
The speed of the saber was as swift as his movement around Damian. He chose to circle behind because he intended to use the impact of his fists to force Damian forward.
Once Damian leaned in, there would be no chance for him to escape the blade’s edge. This was Britton’s finishing move.
However, when his fists struck Damian, Damian stood stock-still like a statue.
A jolt of shock ran through Britton. He quickly pulled back, retreating to reclaim the suspended saber.
A ripple of uncertainty flickered in Britton’s calm gaze. How could this opponent stand still against his attack, not budging an inch? Before he could ponder further, the second round of combat began.
This time, Damian didn’t remain still. He engaged Britton in a fierce exchange of offense and defense. Their movements were lightning-fast, leaving the onlookers utterly overwhelmed.
They could see two figures fighting, but were unable to discern any details of their movements. Unlike the slow and clear fights on television, the speed of these two was almost impossible to follow with the naked eye.
After about one minute of fierce fighting, they finally came to a stop. They stood five meters apart, tightly fixing eyes on each other as if waiting for the next round to begin.
Everyone held their breath, eagerly awaiting the next confrontation.
Ten seconds passed quietly, yet they remained motionless.
Finally, in the fifteenth second, something unexpected occurred.
Britton suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. As a jet of crimson liquid gushed forth, he weakly collapsed to his knees. The saber slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
He had reached his limit. He indeed had sustained serious injuries during that fierce fighting. He had received at least twenty punches, and each one struck him hard like a hammer as if capable of shattering his internal organs.
Damian’s strength far exceeded his imagination and overturned everything he thought he knew.
Britton had never imagined he would face such an opponent in a place like Hiphia.
Surely, he had also managed to land a few hits on Damian with his saber. However, it felt as though Damian was protected by an invisible shield. Each time the blade made contact with his skin, something bounced it back. Britton seemed to have encountered his fated adversary.
Britton Foster, the Right Envoy, a warrior on the battlefield with a bit of fame, never expected to meet his end in such a place. This was completely beyond his imagination.
“Iron Body! Who the hell are you?” Britton looked up at Damian, his eyes bloodshot.
“A dead man has no need to know!” Damian let out a cold sneer.
He approached Britton step by step. He didn’t deliver a palm strike and crush Britton’s skull directly. Instead, he bent down to pick up the fallen saber, inspecting it for a moment before smiling and saying, “I will use your weapon to slit your throat! You’ll die pathetically under your own blade. I bet you’ll turn in your grave!”
He not only wanted to defeat Britton physically but also crush him mentally. What could be a greater humiliation for a warrior than having him die under his own weapon?
Britton’s eyes widened in shock, but he was already drained of strength to even move a muscle.
“You…” he struggled to say, “You can kill me, but you can’t insult me!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his naivety. Everything was now beyond his control. Despair washed over him as he turned to look at Georgia. “I’m sorry, my lady. I can only ask for your forgiveness in my next life.” Regret was written all over his face.
Damian guffawed at this scene, then his expression turned grim. “You’re not worthy of dying under my fists!”
Before the words had fully settled, a chill glint crossed his eyes.
In the next moment, the sharp saber sliced across Britton’s throat.
Blood gushed from Britton’s throat. The saber remained lodged in his throat.
Britton died, with his eyes open. In his final moments, his gaze lingered on Georgia.
“Ah!” Georgia let out a heart-wrenching scream. She shook her head vigorously, crying out, “No! No! You’ll get your karma for taking an innocent life!”
Britton died for her. Georgia never imagined she would get an innocent person involved and even cost him his life.
At this moment, all her fear was replaced by a profound sense of guilt.