Live Brilliantly, Die Decisively

"It has come to this." The man with the crew cut also noticed the biker gang catching up. Knowing there was no escaping this, he looked at the girl with a heavy, regretful expression and said, "Take care of yourself!"

With that, he picked up his machete and charged alone toward the oncoming motorcycles with great momentum, felling a leather-clad rider who couldn't dodge in time with his very first strike.

Perhaps out of a genuine desire to protect the girl behind him, the crew-cut man fought with wide, sweeping motions, trading injury for kills, and for a moment, he actually managed to hold back the majority of the biker gang.

Behind them, Wang Wen saw it clearly. In his twenty years of experience in the World Tower, he had seen too much backstabbing, scheming, and "every man for himself" behavior.

Even in teams led by people he knew, let alone teams of strangers thrown together like this one, there were always instances of teammates selling each other out at critical moments.

Let alone a group of passersby who were clearly just thrown together today?

Thinking of this, Wang Wen glanced at the anxious girl beside him and quietly stepped further away.

To make a man who was clearly a veteran of the World Tower risk his life like this—what kind of exaggerated, bewitching charm must she possess?

Such a monstrous, abnormal creature was better kept at a distance for safety.

Wang Wen thought for a moment, moved another two steps away, and tapped his staff to knock down a straggler.

He then began a "great battle" against the leather-clad rider who had lost his "mount."

The hammer handle moved with increasing agility in his hands—forehand, backhand, spins, thrusts, parries, and blocks.

At first glance, the scene looked even more intense and dangerous than the crew-cut man fighting ten people ahead.

Even the leather-clad rider himself was somewhat puzzled.

Since when had his own swordsmanship become so sharp?

Why did every swing that should have missed so coincidentally strike the other guy's staff?

Was he possessed by the God of Cooking?

The thin scholar not far away finally stopped coughing up blood.

He slowly stood up with the girl's help.

Seeing the girl willing to support him, the thin scholar began to feel smug again.

He greedily eyed the tender white hand on his arm, pointed his chin at Wang Wen, who was in the middle of his "great battle," and spoke to the girl with the air of a master pointing out the landscape: "Look at that coward. It's obvious he's just putting on a show. It looks lively, but he's just going through the motions to stall his opponent!"

Wang Wen, in the midst of his "great battle," twitched his ears slightly.

He continued to struggle with perilous intensity against the leather-clad rider's machete.

His mind was very clear; if someone wanted to take the lead and play the hero saving the beauty, how could he steal the spotlight?

Besides, it was clear that the burly man was strong, holding his own against ten people without losing ground.

As long as that abnormal frenzy remained, the biker gang would certainly be no match for the crew-cut man.

Since that was the case.

One "early bird" was enough. There were still so many floors in the World Tower; conserving energy for the long run was the wisest choice.

Having made up his mind, Wang Wen let the look of exhaustion on his face deepen, and the hammer handle in his hands became sluggish.

He was nearly struck by the leather-clad rider's machete several times, narrowly escaping disaster.

Seeing this, the girl could no longer hold back and let go of the thin scholar, intending to help either the crew-cut man or Wang Wen.

Wang Wen was startled when he saw this and hurriedly regained some strength, leveling the playing field just a bit to show that he didn't need any help.

Coincidentally, the thin scholar also played his part, putting on a miserable display of being too severely injured to stand, which caused the girl to turn back to support him.

This finally allowed Wang Wen to breathe a secret sigh of relief.

Just then, the crew-cut man stumbled, letting another motorcycle slip past.

The leather-clad rider on it swung his machete and charged straight toward the girl and the thin scholar.

Seeing the cold blade of the new rider descending upon them, the thin scholar was so terrified that he ignored the girl still holding his hand and rolled straight to the other side.

The girl was pulled to the ground by the thin scholar's abrupt movement, and it was already too late to run.

"Bang! Crash! Boom! Clang! Clatter! Thud!"

At the very moment the machete fell, the new rider and his bike were knocked over by a figure stumbling and flying in sideways.

Opening his eyes, he saw it was his leather-clad companion.

He looked at the other in confusion, only to find the other looking back at him with equal bewilderment.

Both of them were seeing stars after the collision, their faces full of question marks.

The original rider was quickly hoisted up by a staff to continue the "great battle."

The new rider looked around and decided to stick to his original plan of hacking at the girl first.

But just as he picked up his machete and prepared to strike, his back was struck hard by a heavy object.

He screamed in pain and turned his head to see his companion back there, pinning the guy with the staff down. Looking at how much the guy with the staff was struggling, it seemed he would be hacked to death by his companion at any moment.

Weakling!

Nothing to worry about!

Then who was it that just hit him?

The newly arrived man in the leather jacket narrowed his eyes at the "God of War" fighting nine people ahead, spitting on the ground in hatred.

His companions up front were barely holding on; he had to finish off these lackeys behind him quickly to go help them!

He raised his machete again to strike the girl.

This time, the girl had already steadied herself and was just about to raise her hand to counterattack, only to find the leather-clad man with the raised machete screaming in agony again, even spitting out a mouthful of blood this time.

The girl blinked in confusion.

The leather-clad man wept bitterly.

Suddenly struck by an epiphany, he turned and slashed at the thin scholar on the other side.

This time, his strike went smoothly.

No hard object stabbed him from behind anymore.

After a few slashes, the thin scholar collapsed into a pool of blood.

The man in the leather jacket looked at the girl, then at the one about to be hacked to death by his own companions, nodded, walked over to the overturned motorcycle to lift it, and charged toward the "God of War" in front again, his heart boiling with fervent, surging emotions: Everyone, hold on! I'm coming!

Watching the man ride away, the girl clenched her small fists, her face full of bewilderment.

The thin scholar in the pool of blood was breathing his last. At the moment his consciousness was about to fade, Wang Wen, while "struggling to fend off" the leather-clad man's attacks, walked over and glanced at him.

The thin scholar spat out bloody foam and mouthed the words, "Save me."

The All-Rounder Tower Climber naturally understood what he was saying.

So, Wang Wen shrugged regretfully, "fought hard" to block a few more attacks, and gestured to him that he was very busy.

The thin scholar's eyes widened, his trembling fingers wanting to rebuke him.

But his throat could no longer make a sound.

A mouthful of bloody foam surged out; he stared with wide eyes as his arm dropped limply, unable to draw another breath.

While the scenes playing out in the back were rich and varied, the situation in the front was not optimistic.

To most people, the man with the crew cut fighting ten people alone looked like a God of War, but he knew his own situation best.

Being able to hold his own against ten people for so long was entirely due to a vial of the rare item [Super Hormone] from the fiftieth floor.

Once this item was injected into the body, it would put the user into a fanatical state, not only significantly reducing the sensation of pain but also slightly curbing the deterioration of injuries.

Simply put, once [Super Hormone] was injected, he could be injured during the duration without it affecting his performance.

However, that was all it did—it didn't affect his performance.

It could not heal wounds, nor could it conjure vitality out of thin air.

It merely allowed the user to burst forth with all the light and heat they could muster within their limited life.

It made one live brilliantly and die decisively.