Butcher had great confidence in his knife skills.
In the past few years, with the preparation for the eastern campaign of the Flying Tigers, it was these knife skills he relied on.
Butcher didn't belong to any sect, nor did he have a master; all his martial arts skills were carved out amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Therefore, his knife technique adhered to no particular form; it was just a simple strike—fast, accurate, and ruthless.
In the world of martial arts, nothing could surpass speed.
Since Butcher had started his career, there had never been anyone who could dodge his knife at such close range.
He believed this time would be no different.
Butcher's gaze was fixed on Ye Chen, who stood lazily in place, appearing full of openings, yet somehow giving Butcher a sense of not knowing where to strike.
"Aren't you going to make a move?"