Hiss!
Staring down at the formidable, earth-shaking kick from White Mitchell, George couldnât help but gasp in shock.
He had realized early on that White Mitchellâs level was on par with his own. In terms of power, they were evenly matched.
If he was to defeat him, aside from relying on the Spiritual Artifact in his hand, he would also depend on his extensive experience.
However, what George hadnât foreseen was that White Mitchell, the young lad, seemed to possess an equal wealth of combat experience.
âWhat on earth did this kid go through to acquire such profound combat experience? What is going on? Where did he come from?â George was momentarily taken aback.
Itâs common knowledge that combat experience isnât something that can be developed through simple training.
No matter how much you practice, when youâre on an ever-changing battlefield, itâs virtually useless.
Of course, this isnât to say that training is wholly pointless. Rather, the key lies in demonstrating what you have learned amidst the constant flux.
Far easier said than done â in reality, itâs a whole different story.
After all, training and actual combat are worlds apart.
For instance, when an enemy throws a punch at you, do you choose to dodge, strike back, or hold your ground?
These decisions demand a rich wealth of experience to make the most optimal choice.
And with this kick, White Mitchell had undoubtedly made the best choice at this moment.
George admitted to himself that he couldnât think of a better counter-strategy than this kick.
But, despite his admiration, George wasnât thrown into disarray by this kick.
He saw an opportunity and swiftly retracted his broadsword, expertly angling it in front of him, directly blocking White Mitchellâs kick with the flat side of the blade.
It wasnât that he didnât want to use the razor edgeâthe kick would have easily dismembered White Mitchellâs leg.
It was because he simply couldnât. Indeed, blocking White Mitchellâs kick had pushed him to his limits.
White Mitchellâs kick landed squarely on the blade.
With a resounding boom, it seemed as though something exploded on the blade, creating a massive uproar.
Immediately, everyone saw White Mitchell and George being propelled apart.
However, Georgeâs arm started to shake uncontrollably.
Along with his arm, his broadsword was also trembling.
At this moment, Georgeâs face changed drastically.
He was all too clear on his own defensive capabilities. Under general circumstances, White Mitchellâs kick shouldnât have proved problematic.
Besides, his Spiritual Artifact provided him with enough protection to nullify much of the force.
What George hadnât anticipated, though, was that his broadsword seemed entirely ineffective. He even had the faint feeling that each time his sword came into contact with White Mitchell, it seemed to shrink back in fear.
It felt as though it had been subdued.
Normally, a situation like this only arose when the opponent possessed a Spiritual Artifact superior to oneâs own.
However, White Mitchell clearly didnât have anything in his hands, nor was he wearing any kind of Spiritual Artifact armor.
Just how did he accomplish this?
George squinted his eyes, staring fixedly at White Mitchell as if trying to see through him.
But after a long while, George was unable to discern the secrets hidden within White Mitchell.
Georgeâs patience was wearing thin. With a menacing sneer, he said, âI donât believe in curses, you see! Once Iâve sliced you in half, Iâll know exactly what bloody secret youâre hiding!â