The burly man let out a disappointed grunt, immediately turning his blade to face Greedy Wolf again. Swinging heavily, he aimed for his opponent. But Greedy Wolf didn’t dodge this time-instead, he raised his leg and delivered a powerful kick to the man’s chest.
Stumbling backward, the man regained his footing quickly, gripping his machete tightly as he lunged forward again. What ensued was a raw, brutal clash: blade against body, a battle so fierce that the onlookers could hardly keep up. Every move was a blur, the fight’s intensity dazzling to those who watched.
The ordinary martial arts they’d grown accustomed to seemed childish compared to this. Here, they witnessed a showdown that redefined their understanding of combat. It was as if their mundane world had been infiltrated by something extraordinary, something impossible to reconcile with their upbringing.
Though the burly man had some skills, he was no match for Greedy Wolf, a fighter teetering on the brink of Grand Level. For him, ordinary martial artists were mere playthings.
The only reason the man managed to last this long was that Greedy Wolf chose to test his opponent. If he’d wanted, the fight would’ve ended in the blink of an eye.
Finally, Greedy Wolf struck again, sending the man staggering backward after a thunderous kick. Despite the repeated setbacks, the man, driven by fury, roared defiantly. Brandishing his machete, he charged like a starving predator seeking its prey.
Greedy Wolf scoffed. “Trash like you, kill me? Dream on!” He reached into his waistband and pulled out a short golden blade, roughly 30 centimeters long and gleaming as if forged from pure gold.
A short blade against a machete-it seemed like a mismatch. But for a master, the short blade was an advantage. Once he closed the distance, the outcome was inevitable.
As the burly man charged in recklessly, his eyes bloodshot with rage, Greedy Wolf made his move. In a flash, he closed the gap, and with a swift stroke, his blade grazed the man’s throat.
The motion was clean, precise. Not a single drop of blood sullied the blade.
Standing firm in a classic martial stance, Greedy Wolf exuded dominance. The burly man dropped his machete with a loud clatter. For a moment, he managed to turn, gazing at Greedy Wolf’s back in disbelief. That final twist of his neck sealed his fate-blood poured from his throat like water from a ruptured pipe.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed. After a few feeble twitches, he was still.
Greedy Wolf glanced at the corpse dispassionately, as if he’d merely swatted an insect. For someone who’d spent ten years killing, life was cheap, death routine.
Without hesitation, he turned to the remaining foes, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why don’t you all come at me together?”
The youth’s face twisted with rage as he barked at another of his men. “Get in there and kill him!”
The second henchman flinched, his face twitching with fear as his eyes flickered toward the lifeless body on the ground.
But steeling himself, he drew two short blades from his belt, gathering every ounce of courage before charging at Greedy Wolf.
This one was no more skilled than the first, despite his twin blades and impressive bravado. Leaping into the air, he aimed a decisive strike at Greedy Wolf. But Greedy Wolf wasn’t about to waste time. With a calculated step forward, his blade flashed once more.
Another throat slit. Another body dropped.
The crowd gasped. The speed, precision, and ruthlessness were beyond anything they had ever seen. The second man didn’t even touch the ground before his life ebbed away, his body crumpling lifelessly.
This wasn’t just combat. It was domination. Greedy Wolf had turned the battle into a spectacle of one-sided annihilation. His overwhelming power and confidence left everyone stunned-everyone except Kayden Scott, who watched silently, unfazed.
Greedy Wolf stood over the corpse, his golden blade still gleaming, untouched by blood. He scanned the remaining opponents, sneering. “Next!”
The youth’s composure faltered. His gaze darted between Greedy Wolf and the masked man who had just slain Beckett Robinson. With a hint of desperation, he barked at the masked figure:
“Liam John! Take him down! Now!”
The mention of the name made Greedy Wolf’s eyes narrow. He turned his focus to the masked man, who hadn’t moved or spoken since Kayden Scott entered. The figure’s cold, unwavering stare had been fixed on Kayden the entire time.
“Liam John?” Greedy Wolf’s voice dripped with skepticism. “Don’t make me laugh. If he were really Liam John, he would’ve dropped to his knees the moment he saw the Defender. The Zodiac Generals are loyal to a fault. You expect me to believe this joker is one of them?”
He sneered. “And what of the three who fell just now? Don’t tell me they were Flood, Firefist, and Gold?”
The young man laughed. “Yes, they are my Zodiac Generals.”
Greedy Wolf let out a derisive snort. “A bunch of low-grade imposters claiming to be Zodiac Generals? That’s rich. You insult the Battlefield’s legacy!”
Before the youth could retort, the masked man shifted, turning his head slowly toward Greedy Wolf. Behind the cold, metallic mask, blood-red eyes burned with an intensity that silenced the entire room. Whatever lay beneath that mask, it was no ordinary face.