Donquixote's Name

Aeneas had been exploring how to gather Grit into his slashes and unleash it.

After suffering a devastating blow from Spring Hopper just now, Aeneas's Grit had surged rapidly, reaching the release threshold for Haymaker. At the same time, he realized: Why not create a new sword technique modeled after Haymaker?

Aeneas immediately put the idea into action. Although most of his Grit was wasted, the small portion that remained strengthened his slash to the point where it released sword aura!

For a swordsman, being able to release sword aura meant they had absolutely reached the grandest heights of swordsmanship. Such a person could be called a Swordmaster.

The golden sword aura formed from his Grit-infused slash closed in on Bellamy. Bellamy watched in disbelief as Aeneas casually raised the Iron Sword behind him and released a sword aura.

"Damn it!" Bellamy's face twisted viciously. He realized there was no way to dodge the sword aura. "How can it be this strong!"

Bellamy felt deeply frustrated. He had always existed as a monster in the eyes of others, and he possessed an extremely firm and clear faith—and he was willing to give everything he had for it!

He had constantly grown stronger for the sake of coming into contact with that man!

Bellamy was unwilling to accept this. This was the first time he had been defeated by someone his age—or even by a brat younger than him!

How could an arrogant man like Bellamy accept that?

If his subordinates saw their invincible legend shattered, how would they judge him?

Fortunately, they were not here!

Bellamy clenched his teeth, trying to transform his entire body into a spring at this critical moment and dodge the fatal blow!

However, just then, the sound of gunfire rang out. Blindingly fast beams of light streaked across the air, slicing Aeneas's Grit-infused slash apart from the side and scattering it in every direction.

Bellamy's position was safe now.

Bellamy and Aeneas, along with the stunned Emondi, Amos, and the others watching from afar, all looked toward where the shot had come from.

A lean, tall man in a cowboy outfit stood there. He was over two meters tall, yet extremely thin, as if he were a walking skeleton.

The cowboy held a gun in his right hand, while his left rested on the unsheathed greatsword at his waist.

The newcomer's identity was obvious. He was one of the three renowned rookies who had emerged during the Round Street Slaughter—"Crazy Cowboy" Andorhal!

Speaking of the three renowned rookies, "Spring Man" Bellamy was one of them as well. Although he was the youngest, nobody underestimated him. He was still widely recognized as the dark horse rookie most likely to leave everyone else in the dust this time!

And now, finally...

Two renowned rookies were about to meet.

"So you're the real dark horse. How frightening." Andorhal's voice was rather sharp and shrill. He sounded like fingernails scraping across a blackboard, making people extremely uncomfortable.

Andorhal looked at Aeneas, stuck out his astonishingly long tongue, and licked the muzzle of the gun he had just fired.

"Ugh—"

Aeneas felt sick.

"What kind of pervert is this?"

Bellamy naturally heard Andorhal's words as well, and instantly flew into a rage.

"What do you mean?" Bellamy roared furiously. "I wasn't defeated by—"

Before he could say the final word, Bellamy suddenly froze. He had seen the striking emblem on Andorhal's cowboy jacket.

Andorhal looked at Bellamy with interest.

"I just saved your life. If that slash had landed on you, you would've suffered severe injuries even if you didn't die." Andorhal spoke sarcastically, making no effort to hide the mockery and disdain in his eyes.

Bellamy grew extraordinarily furious. He stared at the emblem, his eyes fixed on it. He definitely had not mistaken it—he was far too familiar with it!

A crescent-shaped smile, with a round eye and a diagonal line slashing from the upper right to the lower left.

Wasn't this the emblem of the family Bellamy admired?

"What relationship do you have with the Donquixote Family?" Bellamy stared at Andorhal, his expression darkening terribly.

"Me?" Andorhal seemed surprised that Bellamy had recognized the meaning of the emblem on him so quickly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a member of the Donquixote Family."

"Heh!"

Bellamy's veins bulged all over his body. He forced a smile that did not reach his eyes, his expression terrifyingly grim.

"The Donquixote Family doesn't have trash like you!" Bellamy suddenly raised his head. His legs transformed into springs and compressed violently, while his arms became twin barrel-shaped springs aimed at Andorhal. He shot toward him at tremendous speed.

"Spring Snipe!"

Bellamy shouted. The power and speed he unleashed were even greater than when he had attacked Aeneas. He reached Andorhal almost instantly.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Andorhal's expression turned ugly. He had no time to dodge, and could only draw his blade to barely block the attack. However, a great deal of kinetic energy remained in Bellamy's spring-powered strike, forcing Andorhal backward step by step.

"Imposter!" Bellamy clenched his fists. Once his spring fists made contact with Andorhal, they suddenly erupted with power again, using the springs to launch both fists forward.

"Boom!"

Like two enormous cannonballs, Bellamy's fists struck directly at Andorhal's head. Andorhal barely blocked them with the flat of his greatsword, but Bellamy's burst of power was simply too great. After only a moment, Andorhal could no longer resist, and his entire body was sent flying.

Aeneas watched everything from the side.

I was the protagonist just now. How did I become a bystander? Seeing Bellamy and Andorhal start fighting at the slightest disagreement, Aeneas no longer felt like staying. He left the area.

"Let's get out of here quickly. Bellamy has no conflict of interest with us. In fact, I need him to hold off the Kam Group's people for us. We can't afford to have to pull away and deal with Kham while we're contending with Orton."

Emondi seized the opportunity and left with Aeneas.

They still needed to keep provoking battles. Moreover, it seemed that their men on North Street and East Street had already met with misfortune. Clearly, their objective had been achieved; otherwise, Bellamy would never have fought all the way from the boundary of the second district on Southeast Street to the boundary of the first district.

At the center of the battlefield, Andorhal crawled out from the rubble and glared at Bellamy like a vicious wolf.

"You brat, you've angered me!" Andorhal brushed the dust off his body and spat. "You're dead!"

"I'll make you understand that you have no right to bear the name 'Donquixote'!" Bellamy's eyes bulged with fury. He clenched both fists, and his body once again transformed into a spring. In the narrow streets around him, he rapidly bounced from one foothold to another, building up power.

Andorhal's expression grew solemn, but the Beam Gun in his hand had already locked onto Bellamy's position.

"What a troublesome brat!"

The battle between the two was about to erupt!