Chapter 2321 by Marina Vittori
An Understated Dominance
âWhat the hell happened to George? He was defeated by the phantom without putting up a fight. What a disgrace!â Bill scowled at the battered George in the battle ring.
Everyone said George was strong and had incredible physical power. Yet, he couldnât even handle a weak martial artist from Dragonmarsh. What a joke!
âThereâs something off about that Dragonmarsh martial artist,â Jeremiah said earnestly.
He continued, âHis attacks are extraordinary. They bypass physical defenses and protective barriers to strike the targetâs soul. Unfortunately, that is Mr. Burroughsâ weak spot.â
They had expected George to win easily, but he met his nemesis, and the situation looked grim.
âSoul-targeting attacks? Isnât that similar to vampiresâ mind control?â Bill said indifferently.
He went on, âIt may seem impressive, but itâs only effective against those with weak mental strength. Itâs useless against a strong opponent.
âThe problem is Georgeâs mental strength is so weak that heâs even worse off than a human. If it were me, Iâd kill the opponent in seconds.â
âThis isnât the time to gloat. If he dies in the ring, it will severely impact our plan. We need to find a way to help him, âJeremiah said.
âItâs easy. His opponent might have strong mental power, but heâs physically weak. If George can get close to him, one punch should be enough to kill him,â Bill said.
Then, he added sarcastically, âGiven Georgeâs current condition, who knows if he can even get close.â
âNo matter the outcome, we must give it a shot.â
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.
âOh? You can get up?â Jermaine raised an eyebrow in surprise as he watched George gradually rise to his feet.
Any martial artist of the same level 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.
âHmph! Still trying to resist? You really donât know when to quit.â Jermaine sneered, and his killing intent grew stronger.
George didnât 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.
âWow, heâs fast!â Jermaineâs 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 targetâs fighting ability with a mere touch.
âDie!â
As the phantom charged toward him, George didnât flinch. He channeled all his energy and threw a powerful punch. A blazing red fist shadow appeared and hurtled toward Jermaine.
âWhat a petty trick!â 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.
He screamed in agony and collapsed on the spot. His body slid forward several feet before coming to a stop. Ðе sprawled on the ground, convulsing and bleeding from his orifices.
âHeh⦠You thought you had a chance? With my Phantom Reaper technique, youâre just a lamb waiting for slaughter. Itâs like bringing a knife to a gunfight.â 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 â odd expressions. They looked as if they had just seen something unbelievable.
âHuh?â Jermaine sensed something was off. He glanced down and froze.
A black blade had somehow pierced his chest, with its edge jutting out from his back. The blade, without a handle, was about three fingers wide. Blood dripped steadily from the sharp edge and stained the ground.
âHow⦠How is this possible?â His eyes widened in disbelief. He had no idea when the blade had pierced his chest.
Throughout the fight, Georgeâs movements had been under his control. Jermaine had used the Phantom Reaper technique to neutralize Georgeâs attacks and then dealt a fatal blow.
Everything had gone smoothly with no apparent flaws. He couldnât understand where the blade had come from. 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.