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!”

it any longer. He shot straight onto his feet and glared at

you can

chuckled, speaking with an impassive

put it that way, we have no choice but

the sky—toward the direction

tell me you’re that

than the elderly man from before. He finally realized that Jack

“The Supreme Warrior?”

man was so young. Was he really the Supreme Warrior—the one person who was far stronger than the Nine Great Gods of

“Hand it over!”

fist and struck it against the old man’s

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

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

was

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