A World Where Only Old Li Got Hurt...

People's constitutions could not be lumped together, and that was especially obvious in the world as it was now.

The crossbowman, whose spiritual power had been enhanced, was sent flying like a straw dummy by a single whip strike. His waist and spine bent and curled at an unnatural angle, and he looked as if he might die on the spot.

Yet the white captain, who had spat out a mist of blood along with several chunks of something, could still tremble as he barely propped up his upper body.

"----Don't use----items----to take risks. He's a----Third Tier----run----scatter----"

He could not finish his halting sentence before a torrent of blood could no longer be suppressed, gushing from his nose and mouth.

Having been crushed by a single blow, this physique-focused enhanced fighter had clearly realized that his life had entered its final countdown. His first reaction had not been anything else, but to use his last bit of strength to issue a difficult warning!

They exchanged a knowing glance. These teammates, who by their habits and bearing were likely former mercenaries, understood what he meant. Naturally, none of them entertained any more wishful thoughts!

--They'd hit an iron plate! Cut their losses while they could!

Everyone had come for profit. In a mission world where death did not mean the end of one's life, there was no need to risk their lives for someone else's "life"----

Especially since, unlike a classical longbow, a crossbow required a definite amount of time to reload. After that previous volley, the threat posed by the crossbowmen had already been reduced by more than half!

And without suitable ranged attack methods, the metal chain in his hand, shaped like a feathered wing, swung again after only a few breaths, its blade slashing down through the air!