"Now that it's come to this..." Buzzcut had noticed the Speedster Gang catching up, and knew there was no avoiding this fight. Regret flickered across his grim face as he looked at the girl. "Take care of yourself!"
With that, he picked up his machete and charged alone toward the oncoming motorcycles, full of swagger. His first strike knocked down a leather-clad rider who hadn't had time to dodge.
Perhaps he truly wanted to protect the girl behind him. Buzzcut's movements were broad and powerful, trading wounds for lives. For a while, he actually held back most of the Speedster Gang.
Wang Wen watched from behind. In his twenty years climbing the World Tower, he'd seen far too many people scheme against one another, sell out their comrades, and save their own skins at someone else's expense.
Aside from the team he led, even teammates in familiar groups had sold one another out at critical moments.
And what about a makeshift team of strangers like this one?
At the thought, Wang Wen glanced at the anxious girl beside him and quietly edged farther away.
What kind of absurd charm could make a man who was clearly a veteran Tower Climber risk his life like that?
A freakish beauty like her was safer to admire from a distance.
After a moment, Wang Wen moved two more steps away and tapped his staff against a straggler, knocking him down.
Then he began a fierce battle with the leather-clad rider who'd lost his "steed."
The hammer handle grew more nimble in his hands with every move: forehand, backhand, flourish, sweep, jab, tap, parry, block.
At a glance, the scene looked even more intense and perilous than Buzzcut's one-against-ten battle up ahead.
Even the leather-clad rider was starting to wonder.
When had his swordsmanship become so sharp?
Why did every swing that should have missed happen to strike the other man's staff?
Was the God of Cooking possessing him?
Not far away, Thin Scholar finally stopped spitting blood.
With the girl's help, he slowly got to his feet.
Seeing that she was willing to support him, Thin Scholar grew smug again.
He leered at the tender white hand on his arm, then jerked his chin toward Wang Wen in the middle of the "battle" and lectured the girl as if he were directing the world's affairs. "Look at that little man. He's obviously putting on an act. They seem to be fighting hard, but he's just keeping his opponent busy without putting in any effort!"
Wang Wen's ears twitched slightly.
He continued struggling to fend off the leather-clad rider's blade, making the fight look perilous.
He understood the situation perfectly. Someone had volunteered to take the lead and play the hero, so how could he steal the spotlight?
Besides, that burly man looked strong. He was holding his own against ten men.
As long as he could keep that unnatural fervor going, the Speedster Gang wouldn't stand a chance against Buzzcut.
In that case...
One person drawing attention was enough. There were still so many floors left in the World Tower. Saving his strength for the long haul was the smartest choice.
Having made up his mind, Wang Wen let his face grow even more tired, and his hammer handle slowed.
Several times, the leather-clad rider's blade nearly struck him. He barely avoided it.
Seeing this, the girl couldn't hold back any longer. She released Thin Scholar and tried to go help Buzzcut or Wang Wen.
Wang Wen's heart jumped. He quickly put a little more strength into his movements, evening the odds by the tiniest bit and trying to show that he didn't need help.
By coincidence, Thin Scholar also put on a pitiful act, pretending his injuries were too severe for him to stand. The girl turned back to help him.
Wang Wen finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Just then, Buzzcut stumbled up ahead, letting another motorcycle slip past him.
The leather-clad rider on it charged straight at the girl and Thin Scholar, swinging his machete.
As the blade flashed and came chopping down toward them, Thin Scholar was so frightened that he ignored the girl still holding his hand and rolled away.
His sudden movement dragged the girl to the ground. By the time she tried to run, it was too late.
"Bang! Crash! Boom! Clang! Clatter! Clang!"
At the instant the machete came down, a staggering figure came flying in at an angle and knocked the new rider and his motorcycle over.
When he opened his eyes, the man realized it was one of his leather-clad comrades.
He stared at the other man in confusion, only to find him staring back just as blankly.
Both of them had hit the ground hard. Their vision sparkled, and their faces were full of question marks.
The old leather-clad rider was soon knocked back into the fight by a staff that hooked him up.
The new rider looked around, then decided to go after the girl nearby first.
But as he picked up his machete and swung at her again, something hard slammed into his back.
He cried out in pain and turned around. One of his comrades was pressing the staff-wielder hard. The fellow with the staff looked like he was struggling and could be hacked down at any moment.
A weakling!
No threat at all!
So who had just hit him?
The new rider narrowed his eyes at the "war god" up ahead, who was fighting nine men at once, and spat in anger.
His comrade up front was about to fall. He had to finish off these weaklings in back and go help them!
He raised his machete again and slashed at the girl.
This time, she had regained her balance and was just about to raise a hand to fight back when the leather-clad rider cried out again, even spitting up blood this time.
The girl blinked in confusion.
The new rider wept in pain.
A flash of inspiration struck him, and he suddenly turned and charged at Thin Scholar instead.
This time, his attack went smoothly.
Nothing hard stabbed him in the back.
After a few blows, Thin Scholar collapsed in a pool of blood.
The rider glanced at the girl, then at the man who was about to be hacked to death by his comrade. He nodded, walked over to the overturned motorcycle, and righted it. Then he charged back toward the "war god," his blood boiling and his heart surging. Hold on, everyone! I'm coming!
As the leather-clad rider sped away, the girl clenched her little fists, looking utterly confused.
Thin Scholar lay in the pool of blood, breathing his last. Just as his consciousness was about to fade, Wang Wen came over and glanced at him while "struggling" to fend off the leather-clad rider's attacks.
Thin Scholar mouthed the words "Save me," blood bubbling at his lips.
The all-around Tower Climber of course understood what he was saying.
So Wang Wen shrugged apologetically, then "fought back" against a few more attacks to show him how busy he was.
Thin Scholar's eyes widened. He raised a trembling finger to scold him.
But his throat could no longer form words.
A mouthful of bloody foam spilled out. His eyes stared blankly as his arm dropped limply to his side, and he drew his last breath.
All sorts of drama unfolded behind them, but the situation up front was grim.
To most people, Buzzcut looked like a war god, fighting many enemies at once. He knew better than anyone how he was managing it.
He'd been able to hold out against ten men for this long only because of a dose of the rare fiftieth-floor item, [Super Hormone].
Once injected, the item drove its user into a frenzied state. It greatly reduced the sensation of pain and could even slow the worsening of injuries a little.
Simply put, while the effect lasted, he could be wounded without it affecting his performance.
But that was all it did: keep his injuries from affecting his performance.
It couldn't heal his wounds, much less conjure up more life force out of nowhere.
It merely let the user unleash every last bit of light and heat he had, as completely as possible, within the limits of his finite life.
It let a person live brilliantly, then die cleanly.
Before you continue