Chapter 2178
The moment Andrew stepped out of Freddie’s place, he disappeared into the night. He did not head back to the Garcia residence but instead wandered aimlessly, slipping into the darkest corners he could find.
Soon enough, he heard rushing footsteps coming from behind, and from the sound of them, he knew it was not a small group. A cold smile curved on his lips as he kept walking, until finally, he darted into a narrow alley.
The weather was against Andrew. Rain began to fall under a sky smothered by heavy black clouds, casting all of Terror Town in gloom. The streetlights in the alley flickered weakly, barely illuminating anything at all.
After moving deeper in, Andrew finally stopped. Both ends of the alley were blocked. On his left stood a row of men in black trench coats, all wearing sunglasses despite the night, each holding a weapon case. Their presence was suffocating.
On his right were only two figures. One was dressed in tight black combat gear, a pair of short blades strapped to his back, and his sharp eyes glowing like predators in the dark. It was a classic Eastonia warrior look.
The other figure was tall and had a gaunt, pale face that looked like a drug addict’s. He stared at Andrew with a cheerful smile. His hands, clad in metal gloves, gleamed coldly in the darkness as he rubbed them together, creating an ear-piercing, grating sound.
“Run! Go on, keep running! Why’d you stop?” he mocked, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Andrew smiled back. “I just took a wrong turn. What’s all this talk about running?”
The man clashed his gloves together, and sparks shot out in the rain. His hair was long and braided into thin whips, wrapped in leather with small bells tied on. It was nothing like the hip-hop braids in Meurico, but a brutal style known among assassins from the western deserts.
In Holtrien’s western desert regions, there was a group of specialized killers who dressed exactly like this. Andrew had encountered people like this during his time with the organization, and he knew they were extremely dangerous.
The man said, “I don’t care if you took a wrong turn. It ends the same. Tonight, you die.”
Professional killers never wasted time. With a wave from the braided assassin, the black-coated figures on the other side of the alley immediately lunged toward Andrew.
The sound of blades cutting through rain filled the alley as their cases snapped open mid-air, spilling out matte short knives, more than 20 in all. These weapons were normally stored in the weapon cases. When it came time to kill, they were simply drawn out for convenience.
At this moment, these specialized blades flew one after another through the rain, all aimed at Andrew’s vital points.
Andrew’s expression remained unchanged throughout. He spun around, gathered his energy, and struck out with his fist like a dragon. In the narrow alley, it sounded like a dragon’s roar had erupted from thin air.
All 20-plus assassins shuddered, their eardrums aching from the sound. Immediately after, they felt an intense heat rushing toward them like a tidal wave.
The first attacker’s blade shattered in his hand before his arm exploded into a spray of blood. One strike of Andrew’s Inferno Strike ended him instantly.
Andrew charged forward like a force of nature, every blow aimed to kill.
Thunderous impacts shook the alley as the trench coats twisted and spun through the rain, their storm of knives filling the space around him.
Even so, it was useless. Andrew’s external aura shielded his body, making him untouchable. Every palm he unleashed tore through their defenses, crushing another life in seconds.
Two buzzing sounds rang out as two daggers stabbed straight into Andrew’s neck. The two assassins were ecstatic, but before they could make a sound, they were horrified to discover they had not even scratched his skin.
The next instant, their hair blew wildly as a blast of force hit them, and Andrew’s fists slammed into their heads, exploding them into gore.
Without pausing, Andrew’s hands shot downward, ready for the next kill.