Suddenly, Colson Eduardo remembered there were still people outside, so he shouted toward the door.
Almost instantly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. Two burly black men exchanged glances and strode toward the door. Without hesitation, they raised their knives and mercilessly stabbed at whoever approached.
In moments, the men who had rushed to the door fell lifelessly to the ground.
It turned out these men weren’t guards but mere disciples of the attackers-no match for seasoned fighters.
With a few slashes, they were dispatched like lambs to the slaughter.
Witnessing this, Colson Eduardo was both speechless and helpless.
The room’s only exit was now blocked by the two menacing figures, effectively trapping everyone inside.
A suffocating silence filled the air, a heavy sense of dread pressing down on the entire meeting room.
The General began tapping his knife rhythmically against the table, the metallic clang echoing ominously. It wasn’t just noise; it was an attack on their nerves. He relished the way fear played across their faces, his smirk growing wider as the tension mounted.
For him, this wasn’t merely an execution-it was a hunt. He thrived on the panic of his prey, finding twisted joy in their futile struggles.
But what dampened his mood was their stubborn defiance; instead of cowering, they had raised their hands in a defensive stance.
“Oh? You’re really planning to fight back?” The General taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.
Colson swallowed hard, his stance unwavering as he addressed his comrades, “Death comes for us all-some deaths are grand as a mountain, others as light as a feather. But we, as Seclela’s people, must never bow. Not now, not ever.”
The others nodded resolutely, their eyes steeling with determination.
“We’ve lived long enough, Mr. Chairman. Don’t worry about us-we’re not afraid to die!”
“Good!” Colson Eduardo’s voice boomed with conviction. “If we must fall today, let it be with honor. Mark my words, their blood will stain Seclela’s soil. Justice will be ours!”
The General sneered at their resolve. “Admirable. But your so-called pride will soon crumble beneath my boots.”
Raising his knife, his demeanor turned icy, a chilling aura spreading through the room like a shroud. The temperature seemed to drop, and goosebumps prickled the skin of everyone present.
Was this the moment of death?
Just as despair threatened to engulf them, Coleman Vincent broke the silence. “Wait!”
“You think you’re tough taking on a bunch of old men? Why not try me instead?” Vincent challenged, pointing squarely at the white-bearded older man.
“What? A duel?” The white-bearded old man was completely stunned!
“Exactly,” Vincent affirmed. “You’ve got us surrounded-we have nowhere to run. But as chairman to chairman, let’s settle this like men.”
Colson Eduardo, bewildered, turned to him. “Vincent, what are you doing?”
“I’m challenging him,” Vincent replied, stepping forward. “I’ve cheated death once already. If I must face it again, I’ll go out with dignity!”
The older man protested angrily, “General, don’t fall for it-it’s a stalling tactic!”
The General smirked, amused by the transparent strategy. “Buying time, are we? Waiting for reinforcements?”
He chuckled darkly. “Old man, that trick is ancient. But if you’re itching for a fight, I’ll gladly oblige!”
He took a menacing step forward, his intent crystal clear.
Vincent’s heart sank-his gambit had failed. Reinforcements weren’t coming, and the situation was spiraling.
Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists tightly, the joints cracking ominously. If this was the end, he would face it head-on.
But just as the General lunged forward, a thunderous voice boomed through the room, freezing everyone in their tracks:
“Who dares run amok on Seclela soil?”
The voice was like a roaring tempest, carrying the weight of the heavens. It shattered the oppressive tension in an instant, rekindling hope in the hearts of the besieged.
Colson Eduardo and the others exchanged glances, their despair lifting like morning fog.
Vincent exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. “I knew it. I knew Defender wouldn’t abandon us!”
“Defender?” Eduardo muttered in confusion.
Vincent nodded firmly. “Yes, the same man who fought for us in the arena. He’s here.”
Before more could be said, a deafening crash echoed.
Two dark figures flew into the room, landing in crumpled heaps-it was the two black men who had been guarding the door.
And then, through the doorway, a figure emerged.
Though crouched in a combat stance, his sheer presence dominated the room. His fists were clenched tightly, their power evident in the faint whump of displaced air.
This man was no ordinary fighter-he was a warrior.
As he straightened, the light illuminated his face: stern, weathered, yet unyielding. His uniform bore the insignia of Seclela’s highest honor, his piercing gaze exuding authority and valor.
Even the General’s smirk faltered, replaced by a wary frown.
He stared at Greedy Wolf for a moment, then glanced at the two black men lying on the ground. Instantly, he realized this was no ordinary visitor. Those two men were seasoned warriors, veterans of countless battles. Even if they hadn’t killed a thousand people, the number was easily in the hundreds. Yet, with just two punches, Greedy Wolf had sent them flying. Such overwhelming strength-something even he might not be capable of!