Rusty Dragon

The protracted 'witch hunting' had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years' War,  and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise.
Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said—
"Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!"

They all call me Great Master

The night breeze was gentle, and the dust settled.


A burly man, towering over two meters tall, appeared where Freeman and Amiel had just been. Half-crouching, his massive fist sunk entirely into the solid ground, he raised his head, eyes brimming with scorn, and his dark red hair cascaded around him.


However, what caught the attention the most was the scar on the right side of his face.


It was a burn intermingled with sword marks.


With his smile, it twitched spasmodically.


Freeman swept out with a leg, followed by the dull sound of slicing air, and then an even duller sound of collision.


The unnamed attacker merely lifted an arm to block the heavy and forceful kick, their half-crouching figure not moving an inch.


Freeman narrowed his eyes and immediately launched into a flurry of fierce attacks.


The newly born 'Blood Descendant,' using both fists and feet, each strike accompanied by a chilling whistling noise.


Chapter 379: Prove the Oath!