Fletcher thought he had encountered many powerful opponents, but he had never seen anyone like this old man before.
The sight of Fletcher kneeling on the ground left those heavyweight figures in shock. Bruce, who had a cigarette dangling from his lips, was so surprised that his jaw went slack and the cigarette fell to the ground.
“Mr. Atkinson, are you alright?” They exchanged worried glances, hesitating yet trying to approach him.
Fletcher raised a hand to stop them, then slowly rose to his feet. His bloodshot eyes and ominously bulging veins gave him a terrifying appearance. He lifted his hand and gradually removed his outer suit, revealing a glorious battle robe beneath.
The robe was worn and weathered. No matter how many times it had been washed; its once-vibrant military green had faded to a weary shade of white. Upon closer inspection, it bore a lot of torn patches-the scars of battle. Wearing this robe, Fletcher had finished off many of the enemies, so this was not just a robe, but a testament to his iron will and a constant reminder of his identity.
As he revealed the robe, a surge of energy coursed through him, revitalizing every fiber of his being.
It stood for his honor! Putting on such a meaningful garment, retreat was no longer an option!
It’s a matter of the soul of a Battlefield warrior, the indomitable spirit of a soldier!
“See? I told you Mr. Atkinson would be fine. He’ll definitely take that guy down.” Tanner, who was watching nearby, tried to comfort himself, but uncertainty gnawed at him. From the moment the old man leaped down and left the ground cracked, his confidence crumbled as well! Even without martial arts knowledge, he could sense who was stronger based on the situation. The destructive power from the old man’s kick felt like it belonged in a legend!
“Robe on, blood flows!” Fletcher gritted his teeth, enunciating each word with fierce determination.
His voice was barely a whisper, but the old man’s keen ears caught every word. He fixed his gaze on the robe and let out a mocking sneer. He squinted as he said, “Do you think revealing that robe will save you? Dying in that robe will be your best fate. Embrace death, Firefist!”
Arrogant, conceited, utterly dismissive-he viewed himself as a god, the ruler of this world!
With that, he strolled toward Fletcher with effortless grace, as if on a casual walk. This old man’s arrogance had reached staggering heights; his very stance and movements radiated an aura saying “I’m invincible.”
“Face your doom!” the old man roared, his voice booming like a thunderclap. With that commanding shout, he charged at Fletcher, fists coiled and ready for action. He was already in a fighting pose as he sprinted forward.
His speed was breathtaking, fast like a cheetah on the hunt. Though the distance was a mere ten meters, the sheer force of his movement sent shivers down the spines of those onlookers.
A gust of wind whipped up behind him. It’s a visible wave of energy that crackled through the air!
As he closed in on Fletcher, he leaped into the air, momentarily hanging there like a predator ready to pounce. Then he let out a thunderous bellow, “Sky-splitting Fist!”
At that moment, two giant shadows of fists erupted behind him, exuding an overpowering force that seemed capable of tearing the sky apart! As he thrust his fists forward, a fierce tempest surrounded him. The raging winds whipped through the air, forcing many to squint and shield their eyes against the onslaught.
“You’re renowned for your fists, aren’t you? Let’s see if you can withstand mine!”
His voice rolled like thunder, shaking the very earth beneath their feet!
Fletcher remained steadfast, showing no sign of retreat or surprise. Instead, he stood on the spot and launched into a rapid series of punches. Almost instantly, two blazing orbs of fire ignited around his fists. In no time, those flames transformed into the fierce heads of two roaring tigers, ready to pounce.
At that moment, the old man charged directly at Fletcher, his massive fists swinging down with an unstoppable force. In an instant, Fletcher clenched his fists, bracing himself for the impact. And he met the old man’s assault directly.
Their fists collided with a resounding thud. A strong shock wave was released. Like a stone plummeting into water, it rippled outward in all directions. Like sea waves, it dashed against everything on its way. The force knocked several onlookers off their feet. It sent several tables teetering dangerously-two of them even toppled over. Nearby branches swayed in the wind and even snapped under the strain.
It was astonishing! These so-called heavyweight figures had never witnessed such a fierce fight in their lives!
Such a contest of internal energy was unparalleled, an existence that felt capable of annihilating the world!
Though Fletcher had managed to catch the old man’s fists, he still felt the overwhelming force shoot through his body.
It was as if his fiery punches had been shattered; not only his fists, but even his internal organs felt like they were quaking. Pain surged through him. It’s a bone-crushing agony that enveloped his entire body!
The old man’s internal power was relentless. It’s like the power kept exuding from him whether he walked or spoke because this energy within him was so abundant that it overflowed.
Though pain coursed through him, Fletcher refused to fall down. He stood resolutely, unwavering as a mountain. His eyes were fixed on the old man’s with a fierce intensity. His face flushed red, betraying how the blow was making him suffer.
In sharp contrast, the old man wore a relaxed look. He even revealed a smile as he nodded and said, “Good, very good. It’s already a miracle for you to withstand my punch. But I must say, your fists leave much to be desired. Let’s see if you can handle my second one.”
“Just cut the crap!” Fletcher said through gritted teeth. A low growl filled with anger escaped his lips. His muscles quivered in his hands, and his thighs trembled as his entire body shook with rage.
Thud! With a sudden shift, the old man’s fist lunged forward by ten centimeters.
It was that very punch that caught Fletcher off guard, propelling him backward like a rag doll. This time, he couldn’t maintain his footing; he crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. He spat out a mouthful of blood.
Hiss!
The sight left those heavyweight figures and other Atkinson family members in complete shock. Fletcher had been defeated-he had actually coughed up blood. How could this even be possible? They just couldn’t believe their eyes. Fletcher had fought on Battlefield and had been regarded as a legendary figure in the Southwest. But now this legend was thoroughly overpowered. No one dared to accept it, yet the reality was stark. After all, Fletcher was lying on the ground, bleeding.
Everyone had thought this should be a long-lasting fight, a relentless back-and-forth where two sides were neck and neck. Instead, that opponent had utterly crushed Fletcher with overwhelming force. In a matter of mere moves, Fletcher was down!
Fletcher, the once-mighty hero had fallen from grace! Maybe he himself never imagined he would be defeated so quickly!