Love At The Wrong Table

Chapter 1747 Different Level

At this moment, the fierce battle on the monitor captured the attention of Blake and Yasmine.

Agargar clapped his hands together, creating a fusion of black and white, embodying boundless force within.

Blake took a deep breath in secret. He realized that if he had encountered Agargar instead of Alfwhit in Anchortown, he would have been utterly defeated.

Emmanuel’s eyes trembled violently.

His thoughts mirrored Blake’s. How could there be such a vast disparity between the two brothers? They were not on the same level.

Emmanuel dared not face Agargar’s technique directly and could only retreat.

With a single stride, Agargar’s encompassing move again loomed before him.

Emmanuel retreated once more. Soon, he found himself with no more room to retreat.

Fortunately, his Art of Adaptability revealed a flaw in Agargar’s technique–not in the techniques themselves, but in his movement.

Emmanuel sidestepped, attacking Agargar’s lower body, disrupting his assault.

Unexpectedly, Agargar bent over and performed a sweeping kick, stabilizing himself before resuming his offensive.

counterattack, striking with a

Templar Valor, Agargar’s understanding of the Templar Techniques surpassed that of Alfwhit by a thousandfold. He deftly flipped, seamlessly transitioning from defense to

defending multiple times within just three seconds, leaving the surrounding fighters in astonishment.

the heir of Templar Valor, in close

watched the battle with

Boom!

hitting the wall, causing a violent tremor.

had put enough distance between them and stood at the edge of

die, get lost!” Agargar

invasion of Templar

a pang of sorrow, with past memories echoing in

hate loneliness. Can you chat with me when you’re

him in the hospital

don’t want to be alone. Thank you for keeping

battlefield and hillside continually surfaced in Emmanuel’s

loneliness. Yet now, she’s far from home, separated from

consciousness left, how helpless

thought, Emmanuel’s eyes filled with sorrow, his heart wrenched by an invisible demon. He lowered his head, clenched his fists, and fought back tears.

“Why?”

“What?”

paused at Emmanuel’s

of Templar Valor? Why