Abundant Martial Arts Virtue
Chapter 162 - 133 Kill the Enemy!

Chapter 162: Chapter 133 Kill the Enemy!

Before the arena.

Over a hundred Class A professionals assumed defensive stances one after another.

Each one donned sturdy armor.

Warriors took their positions on the outermost side.

Ranged professionals hid on the inside.

The long-haired man personally instructed the defense formation and ultimately nodded in satisfaction.

"With the defense of over a hundred people assembled, naturally, it’s not that easy to break through. We don’t have to worry anymore, that kid is as good as dead,"

he declared.

"Boring, for two title fighters like us to stand guard here, it’s really a waste of time," the dwarf grumbled.

"Had I known, I would have just let him pass the assessment and then fought him myself, crushing him directly," the long-haired man added.

He gazed upon the dozens of heads in the arena, feeling quite some regret in his heart.

So many subordinates dead.

Many matters that were in progress would now be affected.

At that time, he sensed an air of panic in the "Death God’s" voice, and for a moment, he couldn’t understand why.

But now he understood.

This was a man who should be killed face to face immediately.

You mustn’t give him a chance to slip away; otherwise, it really leaves one with regret!

The more the long-haired man thought, the angrier he became, and he ordered, "Go, bring our execution rack here."

"Yes, boss,"

said several subordinates, hastily acknowledging the command.

In a short while.

A giant iron frame, about the height of three men and pitch-black, was brought to the front of the arena.

"He’ll have nowhere to hide in three hours," the long-haired man said.

"What boss means is—"

"Right here, we strip him, flay him, and burn him alive until he’s dead,"

he affirmed.

The crowd looked at the giant iron frame, gradually feeling a growing sense of fear.

At this moment.

Wu Xiaode was actually present as well.

He stood on a wall not too far away, shrouded in the silent Demon Mist, quietly observing the scene.

Click—

The situation has become a bit tricky.

The blade I found is pretty mediocre; the blade’s energy it releases is barely acceptable.

I don’t even have a sword.

Last time, I had to use "Thousand Hands · Violent Kill" just to gather a hint of sword energy, enough to deliver a single slash to the soul’s Prayer for Death.

This united defense of over a hundred people, unless I use Thousand Hands, I can’t break through their defense at all.

Should I use Thousand Hands?

Using it in that nearly destroyed world didn’t matter much since hardly anyone saw it.

But this is happening right before everyone’s eyes.

I intended to save my trump ability for dealing with strong opponents like the long-haired man later. If he sees it now, won’t it give him an early warning?

Then I’ll think of another way.

If it really comes to it, then I’ll use Thousand Hands.

Another method...

Wu Xiaode sat down on the wall, lost in thought.

First—

This feature that displays my location every ten minutes is indeed annoying.

How does it know where I am?

Right!

My body possesses skills from the Death Realm, which neither the One-eyed Giant nor the "Death God" can detect. So, why can you pinpoint my location?

Wu Xiaode closed his eyes to ponder for a moment, then suddenly took out the number tag to examine it closely.

Suddenly, two lines of small text appeared on the number tag:

"This terminal has activated the real-time location display feature."

"If this terminal is turned off, it will be equivalent to defeat in the arena, and you will be sent directly to the Death Realm."

In other words, if you don’t let me share your location, just drop dead.

Wu Xiaode looked and was actually somewhat pleased.

So that’s how you’ve been finding my location.

So then—

What if I don’t turn you off?

He placed the number tag on the brick beside him.

Immediately, the number tag displayed a new line of small text:

"This number tag must not leave your person."

"If it is more than three seconds away from the body, a reminder will be given. After ten seconds, there will be one warning; two warnings will signify that you have given up on this arena match and will be transported to the Death World."

— Meaning, leave it alone and you’re as good as dead.

It looks like that won’t work either.

What other method could there be?

Wu Xiaode retrieved the number tag, tilting his head as he thought for several breaths, and suddenly an idea struck him.

A bronze hand extended out from the mist.

"Hold this."

Wu Xiaode silently instructed.

The bronze hand dutifully moved forward, taking the number tag from his grasp.

The Book of the Dead instantly displayed a line of ice crystal text:

"Your bronze hand can be considered an extension of your body, therefore it can hold the number tag in your stead."

Wu Xiaode immediately looked at the number tag.

It showed no reaction, seemingly accepting the current situation.

There’s hope!

In this way, I’ve figured out the rule for sharing position with the number tag!

Wu Xiaode checked the time.

The ten-minute mark was fast approaching.

The mist surrounding his body suddenly shook violently, spreading rapidly in all directions.

The mist, immaterial and formless, quickly enveloped the entire arena.

"Go."

Wu Xiaode silently commanded.

The bronze hand holding his number tag fluttered about before finally pausing above the arena.

The bronze hand hovered for a while, then slowly descended.

Taking advantage of this moment, Wu Xiaode carefully observed the Class A professionals.

A brawny man caught his attention.

The muscular man seemed to be extremely strong, and no one dared to approach him, Someone had just looked at him and got picked up and slapped across the face.

The bronze hand wandered through the crowd and finally settled next to a man standing beside the muscular man, hiding between his legs.

Time was up.

The number plates began to display the hiding places once again.

Everyone instinctively looked at their own number plates—

"He’s here!"

"This kid—"

"Right among us!"

"Shoot, watch out for a sneak attack!"

The crowd grew restless and started shouting.

The muscular man’s roar suddenly drowned out all other noises: "It’s him!"

He lifted his fist, the size of a sand pot, and smashed it toward the face of the man beside him with all his might.

Thud.

A muffled sound.

The man was caught off guard and had his head blown to pieces on the spot.

Everyone fell silent.

Even the long-haired man under the ring couldn’t help but swallow the "stop" that was in his throat.

—The man was already dead.

Did they kill the right one?

If that kid had truly squeezed into the crowd but got his head smashed with one punch, it was actually quite an achievement.

The crowd looked at the corpse of the man and then back at their own number plates.

Little did they know that at the same moment the muscular man struck, the bronze hand had shakily moved and positioned itself behind the muscular man’s buttocks.

So the result was—

"Oh no!"

"We got the wrong one, he’s the kid!"

"He purposely confused us!"

"Kill him!"

The crowd shouted out again.

"Stop! Everyone, stop!" The long-haired man shouted.

Everyone immediately fell silent and stopped their attacks.

The muscular man stood in the ring, pale-faced and trembling.

—He was surrounded by everyone and was just a hair’s breadth away from getting killed by the crowd.

The boss’s wisdom had saved the day!

The muscular man heaved a relief, opened his arms, ready to show he wouldn’t resist, but suddenly felt something in his hand.

He involuntarily gripped it and realized it was a knife.

The muscular man hurriedly tried to say something but found his hand being pressed down by something, swinging forward in a slash.

Golden threads flew from the edge of the knife, striking down two professionals.

The entire place fell silent.

The muscular man said anxiously, "Everyone—"

He struggled to release his hand but found something gripping his fingers tightly, making it impossible for him to let go of the handle.

He tried to use his other hand to help when suddenly he felt a chilling coldness beneath him, followed by a burning pain beyond imagination.

It was like—

Lava

eruption.

Just now, another bronze hand behind his buttocks gripped the number plate, formed a gun with its fingers, and sneak attacked him.

Some parts are not only human weaknesses but the weaknesses of all mammals.

Wu Xiaode remembered a scene where a pack of hyenas hunted their prey.

Even lions, surrounded by hyenas, could only sit on their haunches, bite everywhere, and run away.

So the softness of that area was beyond imagination.

After taking that vicious hit, the muscular man’s facial expression changed rapidly, and he couldn’t utter a word.

The crowd saw his strange demeanor and watched as he raised his long knife once again—

Were they going to let him kill again?

"It’s him! Kill him!"

The long-haired man roared.

The sounds of spells being cast and attacks immediately filled the air.

The muscular man was swept away by the onslaught.

His body fell heavily to the ground.

Ten seconds were up!

Once again, the whereabouts of everyone became invisible.

"Carry his body down!" the long-haired man ordered loudly.

"Yes!"

The crowd responded in unison, carrying the body down and laying it before the long-haired man.

The long-haired man knelt down and snorted, "Such a clumsy strategy, and you want to compete with me—"

He stopped speaking abruptly.

Something was wrong.

Completely wrong.

The long-haired man looked at the number plate in his hand.

He saw a line of small characters on the number plate, unmoving:

"Urban alley battle continues."

Continues...

If the young man had died, naturally the battle would have ended.

But the battle continued.

Which meant, the young man was not dead.

The long-haired man’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably, his expression growing more ferocious, as he suddenly bellowed, "Surrender, all of you surrender!"

The crowd was bewildered and did not understand.

When they realized the battle was not over, that’s when they got it.

All they had killed were their own people.

It was one of their own!

"Yes, boss."

"Understood."

"I surrender."

The professionals dejectedly withdrew from the fight.

"Let him pass?" the dwarf asked.

"Let him through. Only if he passes will I have the satisfaction of killing him," the long-haired man said, full of murderous intent.

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