The others also did fist-to-palm salutes as they huffed.

“Leaving? I’m afraid you can’t leave once you’re here!”

The old man waved his hand. The black-clothed man from before all raised their fists, radiating dangerously quiet auras.

“You want to fight us when we have so many people on our side? Are you looking for death?”

A bald man craned his neck to look at the old man atop the stage, his expression stony.

“The people here should be pretty good fighters,” the old man said, smiling. “We’ll just kill those who can’t fight properly and take those that aren’t too bad as our puppets so that they can contribute to our society. Hah!”

“Just hand the dragon scale over, you old fart!”

stand it any longer. He shot straight onto his feet and

can

speaking with

it that way, we have no choice but to

speared toward the sky—toward the direction of the old

me you’re that Supreme

before. He

“The Supreme Warrior?”

Was he really the Supreme Warrior—the one person who was

“Hand it over!”

into a fist and struck it against the old man’s

old man had been thrown backward by Jack. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and even his

the scars that riddled the old man’s face. It seemed that he had sustained burn injuries from before.

was a trap all

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