NovelOnline"What the hell happened to George? He was defeated by the phantom without putting up a fight. What a disgrace!" Bill scowled at the battered George in the battle ring.
Everyone said George was strong and had incredible physical power. Yet, he couldn't even handle a weak martial artist from Dragonmarsh. What a joke! "There's something off about that Dragonmarsh martial artist," Jeremiah said earnestly.
He continued, "His attacks are extraordinary. They bypass physical defenses and protective barriers to strike the target's soul. Unfortunately, that is Mr. Burroughs' weak spot." They had expected George to win easily, but he met his nemesis, and the situation looked grim.
"Soul-targeting attacks? Isn't that similar to vampires' mind control?" Bill said indifferently.
He went on, "It may seem impressive, but it's only effective against those with weak mental strength. It's useless against a strong opponent.
"The problem is George's mental strength is so weak that he's even worse off than a human. If it were me, I'd kill the opponent in seconds." "This isn't the tto gloat. If he dies in the ring, it will severely impact our plan. We need to find a way to help him, "Jeremiah said.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"It's easy. His opponent might have strong mental power, but he's physically weak. If George can get close to him, one punch should be enough to kill him," Bill said.
Then, he added sarcastically, "Given George's current condition, who knows if he can even get close." "No matter the outcome, we must give it a shot." Jeremiah stepped forward and focused his voice into a narrow, precise whisper to transmit his message to George in the battle ring. His lips moved slightly, but it was unclear what he was saying.
George seemed to sense something and tilted his head to listen without turning around. His eyes burned with a newfound ferocity when he got back on his feet.
"Oh? You can get up?" Jermaine raised an eyebrow in surprise as he watched George gradually rise to his feet. Any martial artist of the slevel would be mentally incapacitated and immobilized after a single hit from the Phantom Reaper technique. But George was still going strong after taking two hits. It seemed being built like a tank had its advantages.
George panted heavily, and his eyes locked on Jermaine. His legs bent slightly, his body lowered, and his every muscle tensed. His stance looked like a tiger ready to strike.
"Hmph! Still trying to resist? You really don't know when to quit." Jermaine sneered, and his killing intent grew stronger.
George didn't say a word. After gathering his strength, he launched himself off the ground with a force that left a crater behind. He shot forward like a missile, leaving a blurred afterimage.
"Wow, he's fast!" Jermaine's eyes widened in surprise.
Without a moment to spare, he immediately used the Phantom Reaper technique and directed it toward George. This technique could instantly disable the target's fighting ability with a mere touch.
"Die!" As the phantom charged toward him, George didn't flinch. He channeled all his energy and threw a powerful punch. A blazing red fist shadow appeared and hurtled toward Jermaine.
"What a petty trick!" Jermaine sneered. He directed the phantom to collide with the red fist shadow.
A sharp crack echoed through the arena.
At the moment of impact, the red fist shadow shattered into pieces. But the phantom continued relentlessly toward George and passed right through him.
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He screamed in agony and collapsed on the spot. His body slid forwardseveral feet before coming to a stop.
He sprawled on the ground, convulsing and bleeding from his orifices.
"Heh... You thought you had a chance? With my Phantom Reaper technique, you're just a lamb waiting for slaughter. It's like bringing a knife to a gunfight." Jermaine laughed as he reveled in his apparent victory. Just as he was about to bask in the glory and applause, he noticed the spectators' odd expressions. They looked as if they had just seen something unbelievable.
"Huh?" Jermaine sensed something was off. He glanced down and froze.
A black blade had somehow pierced his chest, with its edge jutting out Was m from his back. The blade, without a handle, was about three fingers wide. Blood dripped steadily from the sharp edge and stained the ground. "How... How is this possible?" His eyes widened in disbelief. He had no idea when the blade had pierced his chest.
Throughout the fight, George's movements had been under his control. Jermaine had used the Phantom Reaper technique to neutralize George's attacks and then dealt a fatal blow.
Everything had gone smoothly with no apparent flaws. He couldn't understand where the blade had cfrom. Was it a sneak attack from someone in the crowd? Jermaine glanced around and parted his lips. But before he could say anything, his vision went black. He hit the ground hard, dead, with his eyes staring blankly ahead.
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