This white-furred monkey.
Leon gripped his sword tightly and thought:
Just from its stance, he could tell it was terrifyingly strong.
It was no ordinary monkey. It was a monkey that wielded twin blades, a monkey that looked incredibly vicious.
When he said strong, he was not referring to its stats. If they only looked at the stats, even Roast Whole Pig could probably smash the Twin-Blade White Ape's bones with one blow.
What Leon meant was the Twin-Blade White Ape's technique—or rather, its martial skill.
Its well-defined muscles, slender build, legs secretly poised to exert force, and seemingly casual yet intensely watchful gaze all showed that it was an exceptional specimen among monkeys.
A sudden urge to spar rose in his heart.
"I want to fight him one-on-one," Leon said. "You can tell at a glance this white ape knows swordsmanship. Let me handle it."
"I get it, I get it," Maru said, waving her hand helplessly. "If you can't hold out, Boss, we'll all rush in and gang up on it, right? That's how we've always done it."
"You can't call it ganging up on it. That's too crude," Dru corrected, stroking his beard. "It is an acknowledgment and respect for the enemy's strength."
"I want to fight it too," Tel said longingly.
"Next time, you can go."
Leon stopped several steps away from the white ape. Sword in hand, he assumed an attacking stance.
Born into a renowned swordsmanship family, he had learned excellent swordplay from childhood. His greatest strength was offense—overwhelming enemies with a relentless storm of attacks until they could scarcely defend themselves.
"Hey, get down here."
The white ape glanced at him, flipped down from the tree, and stood leisurely with a long blade in each hand. It said nothing, yet it truly carried