Kan Lu's strength was undeniably commendable.
The spear was known as the king of all weapons.
The Silver Spear moved in his hands like an extension of his arm. Even when facing multiple enemies, he was not at all at a disadvantage.
That pure spear technique seemed as if it had been honed through endless trials of life and death—concise, efficient, and devoid of any superfluous movements.
Simple and unremarkable, yet concealing deadly intent.
However, as the Playing Cards shattered one after another, more and more identical Wooden Men joined the battlefield, and Kan Lu gradually began to feel the pressure.
The first two Wooden Men had been manageable. They had not even lasted three exchanges beneath his spear before being cut down. But as the number of Wooden Men on the field increased, their strength grew ever greater as well.
For Kan Lu, who stood at the very center of the battlefield, no one understood better than he did just how terrifyingly fast the surrounding Wooden Men were growing stronger.
Their strength, speed, reaction time, and recovery ability were all increasing across the board, as though there were no upper limit. They grew stronger with every passing second.
These things alone would not have been much of a problem for him; they merely required a little more effort. But the Wooden Men he defeated did not truly die. A minute later, they would turn back into Playing Cards and reappear on the field.
Surrounded by those ever-strengthening Wooden Men, his path forward had been blocked. As one side waned while the other waxed, his broad, aggressive offensive from the beginning had now been forced into a defensive stance.
Yet even now, the two Jokers had not entered the field. They merely stood atop the cards, watching him with rather