"With this level of skill, you still dare run a martial hall in Sunset City?

Everyone, look—this is the famous and expensive Gaston Martial Hall!

They don't even have someone who can fight a little 4-stage Warlock-Warrior like me!"

"Pathetic!"

"I say, if none of you dare fight me, why not turn this place into a kindergarten instead?"

"Hahahaha!"

A young man who looked about seventeen laughed wildly.

His hands were abnormal—faintly green.

Especially his nails, glowing with a green so bright it looked freshly dipped in paint.

Britney took a deep breath.

Though she was only 1.2 meters tall, she stepped forward.

With Teacher, Tursos, and Elena all gone, she couldn't just stand by.

But at that moment, Bruno reached out and stopped her.

"Britney, there's no need for you to deal with trash like this," Bruno said with a smile.

Instantly, everyone's eyes turned to him.

Especially the 12-stage Warlock-Warrior, who snorted and said:

"A 3-stage Warlock-Warrior looking down on a 4-stage?

How arrogant."

"I really wonder where your courage comes from. It's laughable."

"Poison Hands, teach him a lesson."

The 4-stage Warlock-Warrior stretched out his hands, shaking them lightly as he said proudly:

"Kid, do you know what this is?

This is a special root bone that only geniuses can have!"

"As long as my attacks touch you, you'll understand what it means to wish you were dead.

That feeling of flesh slowly rotting… you'll remember it for the rest of your life!"

Bruno laughed.

He never expected that right after exhausting the last of his [Nidhogg's Breath] to cultivate the Rot Chaos Form, before it was even fully formed, he would meet such a perfect opponent.

To make flesh rot—others might fear it.

But for Bruno right now, it was exactly what he needed.

Without hesitation, Bruno placed the bean-sprout-sized Britney behind him and looked calmly at Poison Hands.

"The Gaston Martial Hall is not a place garbage like you can insult. Even my teacher…"

But halfway through his sentence, Bruno abruptly closed his mouth, a hint of unease flashing across his face.

The 12-stage Warlock-Warrior noticed everything.

More and more spectators gathered.

In the hearts of the people of Lower District Three, the Gaston Martial Hall had always been extremely strong—so seeing someone come to cause trouble was shocking.

Soon, more and more people gathered, completely surrounding the martial hall.

Countless eyes focused on Bruno and Poison Hands, whispering nonstop.

"Isn't that Poison Hands? How does he dare come to the Gaston Martial Hall and look for death?"

"Shh! Look at that man beside him—that's the Heavenly Gang's 12-stage Warlock-Warrior, Damian Frost, known as the Flying Tiger!"

"Why would someone of that level pick a fight with the Gaston Martial Hall?"

"I have no idea. But Poison Hands isn't simple either. He once killed seven 4-stage Warlock-Warriors in underground fights!"

"Damn… that strong? Then that young man facing him is basically doomed."

Poison Hands listened proudly to the whispers behind him.

He lifted his chin and said to Bruno, "Heard that? If you kneel and beg for mercy now, it's not too late."

Bruno simply shook his head.

He stood still, raised his right hand, and curled a finger at Poison Hands.

His calm expression and relaxed gaze completely ignored the man in front of him—

as if Poison Hands wasn't a powerful Warlock-Warrior, but just a random toad on the roadside.

Poison Hands was instantly furious.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled fast.

The clear air suddenly carried a faint green tint.

Someone gasped, "It's here—that's the Viper Breathing Method!"

Poison Hands' fingers slowly curled, turning into eagle-like claws.

The green nails shimmered with a dangerous aura.

With a sudden push of his legs, Poison Hands launched himself forward, rushing straight at Bruno.

His hands slashed through the air with a hiss, like a snake flicking its tongue.

Bruno looked startled, as if frightened by the sudden attack.

He didn't dodge in time.

Tear!

Poison Hands' claws grazed Bruno's arm, leaving three bloody marks.

"Pathetic! With that level of skill, you dare fight me?" Poison Hands laughed excitedly as he stared at the fresh blood on his nails.

He stared hard at Bruno, expecting to see pain.

But instead, he thought he saw disappointment on Bruno's face.

"You… what kind of expression is that!"

Poison Hands froze.

Was he imagining things?

Bruno sighed softly.

He truly was disappointed—Poison Hands' toxin was far too weak.

Compared to [Nidhogg's Breath], Poison Hands' toxin was like the faint glow of fireflies, while [Nidhogg's Breath] was the bright, overpowering moon.

The wound on Bruno's arm only turned slightly red.

There wasn't even the slightest sign of decay.

It seemed he couldn't use Poison Hands' toxin to complete the cultivation of the Rot Chaos Form.

There was no need to drag this fight on anymore.

With that thought, Bruno remained where he stood, taking in a slow breath—then he went completely still, as if he had given up the fight altogether.

This scene was instantly noticed by the crowd outside.

Their faces filled with confusion as they whispered:

"Is Poison Hands' toxin so strong that he's already giving up?"

"No way, the fight just started. Aren't Gaston's students supposed to be strong?"

"Who knows… maybe they've been bluffing all along to earn tuition fees."

"That makes sense. When a real fight happens, they fall apart. Sigh… let's go. Poison Hands has already won."

But in the middle of those voices, Bruno suddenly exhaled—

and Thunderclap exploded.

BOOM!

A blast like cracking thunder erupted from inside the martial hall.

A flash of purple lightning flickered in Bruno's eyes, sharp enough to shake the soul.

The moment the thunder sounded, his body vanished from his spot and shot straight toward Poison Hands.

The perfected Thunderclap Breathing Method finally revealed its true power.

Bruno pressed his five fingers together, forming a blade, and moved with incredible speed toward Poison Hands' throat.

Poison Hands' face twisted in terror.

He reflexively raised his arms to block—

But with the speed blessed by the perfected Thunderclap Breathing Method, Bruno was far too fast.

Poison Hands' arms had barely reached his chest when Bruno's hand-blade had already pierced through his throat.

The fragile windpipe offered no resistance at all.

A fountain of bright red blood burst out, like a broken water pipe.

Surrounded by the spraying blood, Bruno calmly stepped back and shook the blood from his hand.

"This is the end for anyone who dares to challenge the Gaston Martial Hall."

As his voice echoed, the 12-stage Warlock-Warrior finally snapped out of his shock.

"Thunderclap phenomenon… that's the perfected Thunderclap Breathing Method.

You—you actually perfected Thunderclap Breathing Method!"

Damian Frost stared at Bruno with wide, trembling eyes.

Poison Hands, clutching his ruined throat, stumbled to Damian's feet and rasped desperately:

"S… save… me…"

Blood gushed from his mouth.

His face was filled only with the terror of death—and deep regret.

Damian Frost ignored his pleas.

His eyes remained fixed on Bruno, killing intent flickering within them—

mixed with strong hesitation.

Bruno's powerful spiritual sense caught a faint change.

This man wanted to kill him.

"Nell Gaston is my teacher. His strength is unquestionable. And the Gaston Martial Hall is the best place for anyone who wants to become a strong Warlock-Warrior.

Everyone is welcome to join us!"

Bruno shouted loudly to the people outside.

In the dark, he was already preparing to summon the God Realm.

What he said just now was simply a reminder to the 12-stage Warlock-Warrior—

Nell Gaston was not dead.

"Clap, clap, clap. Well said, little junior."

The bald-headed Tursos pushed through the crowd while applauding, slowly stopping behind Damian Frost.

Instantly, the hesitation on Damian Frost's face turned into heavy tension.

He stared at Tursos cautiously.

As for Bruno, the moment he saw Tursos appear, he finally relaxed completely.

With Tursos here, he no longer needed to act.

The smile on Tursos's face slowly faded, his eyes turning cold.

The honest, simple man everyone knew changed in an instant—

his presence became crushing, filled with ice-cold ruthlessness.

Tursos walked to Poison Hands, who was still clutching his throat.

He slowly reached out and pried the man's hands away bit by bit.

Blood immediately poured out in a rush.

Poison Hands' eyes filled with terror.

He struggled wildly, desperately calling Damian for help.

A trace of unwilling pity flashed across Damian's face.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, just about to speak—

But Tursos' voice cut through the hall:

"Take one more step… and you'll end up just like him."

Tursos grabbed Poison Hands' head and lifted him high, like he was picking up a toy.

Blood pooled beneath them, forming a dark, spreading stain.

Soon it stopped flowing.

Poison Hands finally stopped struggling, his eyes wide open, filled with regret and unwillingness.

"This is the Gaston Martial Hall.

Anyone who challenges our authority… pays with their life!"

"Damian Frost—get out."

The Heavenly Gang's Flying Tiger, Damian Frost, clenched his fists and looked toward Bruno.

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