togophonebook Chapter 575: The ambusher who was killed in retaliation!
Chapter 575: The ambusher who was killed in retaliation!
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The assassin's heart was pounding in his throat.
Below, the red-haired warrior and Shamrock's Conqueror's Haki clashed head-on, neither able to concentrate. Explosions, battle cries, and the roar of shattering steel filled the air. The entire battlefield was as noisy as hell itself.
Two old things from a bygone era, all my attention was drawn away.
Arrogance can be deadly.
The assassin clenched his teeth. Every muscle in his body twisted into a steel cable. All his strength, all his speed, all his killing intent were poured into this one strike.
Die!
A gray afterimage shot out. Its speed tore the edge of the sound barrier, but he forcefully swallowed the sonic boom with his ability. A ghostly green, poisoned dagger sliced through the air silently. The tip of the blade pierced Rocks's back.
The location of the heart.
If you stab it in, even the overlord will die.
Two meters. That distance was too great for him to even blink.
The blade was already brushing against the flowing strands of hair on Rocks' back. The green, poisonous light reflected off his black coat, flickering intermittently.
The assassin's lips curled into an uncontrollable smile. The image of Locke's chest being pierced, venom coursing through his veins, flashed through his mind. Too beautiful. He forced a hoarse laugh.
"We succeeded!"
The sound exploded from behind Rocks.
"Don't be distracted during the battle, you old folks!"
Three centimeters.
The blade was three centimeters from his back. The stench of venom had already seeped into his clothes. An absolute blind spot. An absolute kill. Even if Rocks reacted in that split second and coated himself with Armament Haki, he couldn't stop this strike.
It had been planned for far too long.
but.
There was no dull thud of the blade piercing flesh. Nor did Rocks turn around.
Nothing came.
The blade was only centimeters from their backs. Rocks and Whitebeard remained standing there, motionless. They didn't turn. They didn't dodge. Their arms, clasped to their chests, remained firmly in place. Their defiant stance was exactly the same as before.
Just as the blade was about to pierce through, Rocks tilted his head slightly. The movement was so subtle it was almost imperceptible. He didn't even glance at the poisoned blade behind him out of the corner of his eye.
A slow, smirk crept onto his lips. In the dim, snowy light, a smile appeared on Lox's face. Utterly wicked, utterly cruel. The hunter watched his prey leap into the trap.
That's the kind of laugh.
"Naive fellow."
His lips moved. Four words pierced the wind and snow, reaching the assassin's ears precisely. The voice wasn't loud, but it was crystal clear to the attacker.
He hadn't finished speaking.
An unexpected situation occurred for this member of the Knights of God.
A powerful surge of dark energy erupted from Lox's body.
dark!
Absolute darkness.
Dark power erupted from Rocks' body.
Everything encountered vanished into nothingness.
Dark energy expanded wildly around Rocks. In the blink of an eye, a hemispherical black shield appeared around Rocks and Whitebeard, who was still watching his brothers' duel.
indestructible.
"puff."
A muffled thud.
The attacker's poisoned blade pierced the shield.
There was no crisp sound of metal clashing together.
The sensation of the blade sinking in—the abyss.
The shield formed by the dark energy was incredibly tough. The poisoned blade pierced less than half an inch, then wouldn't budge. The venom on the blade was instantly absorbed by the dark energy.
Clean and tidy.
The assassin's pupils contracted sharply. The excitement vanished, replaced by a wave of fear.
The moment the blade pierced the shield, a powerful suction force appeared. It spread along the blade towards the attacker, not only consuming the venom but also eroding his strength and life force.
The right hand was the first to be affected.
His strength drained away wildly from the hand gripping the knife. Like a burst dam, the floodwaters poured out. This darkness devoured him swiftly and greedily.
His muscles began to twitch. His arms felt so weak they were about to give way. His vision blurred; his strength was draining away too quickly. This feeling—it was as if something was sucking his life away.
It is invisible.
They were starving.
"What the hell is that?!"
A scream of agony erupted in the assassin's mind. He finally understood. These two old monsters from the past weren't unprepared at all. It was a trap from beginning to end. The flaws were deliberately created.
Wait for him to come to you.
The terror instantly shattered the assassin's mind. Survival instinct overwhelmed reason; only one thought remained—run. He drew his knife, retreated, and disappeared into the void.
The muscles in his legs bulged. His toes gripped the rocks on the ground. He pulled his waist back with all his might.
Useless.
The blade was sucked in by the shield. It was like it was glued to it. It couldn't be pulled out. The suction force didn't decrease but increased; the harder it struggled, the stronger the suction became.
"Move!"
The assassin's teeth were grinding together. His face beneath the mask was contorted in pain. His hands gripped the knife hilt tightly, the veins on the back of his hands bulging. He was using every ounce of strength he had.
Useless.
It's totally useless.
The surging black energy locked the blade. Iron shackles. He couldn't even loosen his grip to escape now—the suction had already climbed up his hands along the hilt, sticking him to the edge of the shield.
Unable to move forward. Unable to retreat. Unable to move.
My face was covered in cold sweat.
Just as the assassin was struggling desperately and on the verge of collapse.
The white beard moved.
The white-bearded man who always stood next to Rocks. The white-bearded man who acted as if he hadn't seen anything happening behind him.
It finally moved.
He still had his back to the assassin. He didn't even turn his head. His eyes were still fixed on the distant battlefield.
But the muscles in his right arm suddenly swelled.
The wide sleeves were stretched taut. Veins bulged on his thick arms.
He clenched his right fist. His knuckles cracked with a series of popping sounds, like popping beans.
A white halo gathered on the surface of the fist.
Tremor Fruit.
The high-density shockwave was compressed into a space the size of a fist. The white light grew brighter and brighter, more and more piercing.
The air couldn't hold on any longer. Centered on the white-bearded man's right fist, space warped, cracking and splintering. This world was on the verge of collapsing.
The death knell tolled.
The assassin stared at the enormous figure with its back to him. The aura of destruction surged even higher. Fear vanished, leaving only despair. He wanted to beg for mercy. He wanted to scream. His body was being sucked into the darkness, leaving him no strength left to utter a sound.
"Gulalalalala."
The white-bearded man chuckled softly. He casually tossed the wine jug to the ground, sending wine flying everywhere.
next second.
He jerked his right leg back half a step. The wind whipped up by his broad back to tear the snow apart.
Turn around.
The massive body spun. A terrifying pressure swept outwards. The white-bearded man's eyes blazed like two balls of fury. Disdainful. Contemptuous. The look one would give an ant.
One punch.
A straight punch. No fancy moves. All the destructive power is concentrated in this one punch.
A white, vibrating aura enveloped a fist larger than a sandbag. A blinding arc of death was drawn across the dimly lit battlefield. The air in front of the fist was compressed and exploded, creating a deafening roar.
The punch was aimed at the assassin's chest.
The assassin's chest, sucked to death by the dark shield, unable to escape.
The fist hadn't even landed yet. The overwhelming force of the punch had already caused the assassin excruciating pain in his sternum.
Faster.
We'd run into them if we were just a little faster.
Centered on the white sphere of light on the fist, the air shattered.
This isn't a metaphor. It really shattered.
Countless black cracks burst open from the point of contact, spreading outwards like a spiderweb. The aura emanating from the cracks was suffocating. White light illuminated the assassin's face, etched with despair.
This member of the Knights of God knew he was probably doomed.