Renard chuckled coolly, presuming that it had to be the only reason.

As one of the Ten Hellions of South Draconia, his might was naturally above questioning.

Moreover, he was actually in his sixties, and he actually looked like a younger man since he had always maintained his training routine.

And since there was no one who had reached the Ascendant rank below sixty in Draconia, save for the freaks of the major sects, Renard prided himself with his accomplishment. Moreover, those major sects would always keep their freaks close, hiding them within their respective enclaves.

They would certainly not allow them to run around causing trouble just like Frank here.

What was that if not suicidal?

"Brat, I don't know who has your back, but I'll spare you if you go down on your knees, kowtow to Mr. Droitner ten times, and surrender the Bloodcrane Spiritbloom."

Frank, who was already sick of such threats, chuckled coolly. "What, not feeling confident about yourself?"

turn. "I'm giving you a chance to live, since I don't really know my

don't you

toward Renard, seemingly

Renard either, as he turned toward Huub in

fall before me and understand what

glowering as he could see that Frank was making light

a javelin of pure vigor

of Ascendant ranks, projecting their pure vigor into various shapes

ground and held up a hand, breaking the javelin while chuckling.

"Hmm...?"

narrowed when he saw how easily

"Get him!"

was urging him to get going impatiently, seeing how insolent Frank was. After all, Renard was

a battlecry, Renard released all his pure vigor, focusing them into his hand

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