Chapter Sixty-Two: Charles (Part II)

Brada watched in horror as Charles advanced toward Xiao Feng, lifting his leg to strike. He couldn't help but shout, "Xiao Feng, watch out!"

Xiao Feng turned just in time to see Charles's leg sweeping toward him with ferocious speed. Unable to evade, he raised his arms across his chest to block the blow.

With a thunderous bang, Xiao Feng's body was flung backward through the air. Pain surged through his arms, a searing numbness spreading as though they were about to shatter. His lean figure crashed to the ground, skidding several meters before coming to a halt.

"Brother?!"

"Xiao Feng!"

Alice and Brada cried out in alarm.

Charles strode forward with menace, but Brada, hefting a heavy machete in his thick arms, charged at him from behind. "You bastard! I'll kill you!" he roared, bringing the blade down with all his might.

The machete struck Charles's shoulder with a heavy clang, sparks flying as metal met something far harder than flesh. The blade lodged into Charles's stone-like body, as if he had struck solid rock.

Frowning, Charles turned and delivered a savage kick to Brada's chest. A loud crack resounded—Brada, lacking Xiao Feng's resilience, was sent hurtling backward, ribs broken, and collapsed several meters away, writhing in agony.

Charles adjusted his sunglasses with arrogant flair, then turned and kicked the fallen Xiao Feng viciously in the abdomen, sending him rolling across the ground once more.

Xiao Feng clutched his stomach, coughing violently, nearly choking on the impact.

"Xiao Feng, I thought you were something formidable," Charles sneered. "But how quickly you've disappointed me. Is that all it takes to bring you down?"

Xiao Feng, grimacing in pain, tried to rise. Charles approached, seized him by the throat, and lifted him off the ground.

The full might of a Level Four Ability Envoy—Charles's strength—was now undeniable.

Xiao Feng dangled helplessly, pain lancing through every nerve in his body. His strength was drained, his will nearly broken.

Breath grew scarce. Blood faltered. Darkness crept in.

Just then, the harsh roar of engines shattered the silence.

SCREECH—a chorus of brakes. Several jeeps skidded to a halt around Charles and Xiao Feng.

Rice, White, and Turner leapt from the first vehicle.

A flicker of a smile touched Xiao Feng's lips at the sight—then everything went black.

Old White raised his massive hunting rifle, aimed it squarely at Charles, and snarled, "You son of a bitch—let him go!"

And he wasn't alone. Every X Mercenary from the surrounding jeeps had trained their rifles on Charles. A few even hefted rocket launchers from atop the vehicles.

Charles's expression shifted from arrogant disdain to grim cruelty. The bravado evaporated.

"So," he said darkly, "you must be White. How convenient—you've come right to me. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down. Surrender quietly, and perhaps I'll let Xiao Feng live."

White saw the unconscious Xiao Feng, his fury boiling over. Without another word, he stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his shotgun directly against Charles's forehead.

"I'll say it again," he growled. "Let. Him. Go."

Charles sneered coldly. "Go on then. Pull the trigger. But if you hesitate, your boy dies right here."

BANG—the shotgun roared.

Charles's forehead exploded in fractures, the slug buried deep in his skull. The sight was grotesque, his head a patchwork of jagged cracks.

Despite the firepower, Charles remained upright. The immense power of a Level Four Ability user rendered even White's mighty weapon insufficient to kill him.

White pumped the next round and fired again—another brutal blast that did little more than deepen the fractures.

Xiao Feng's life hung by a thread.

"Damn it, I'll tear you apart!" White roared, tossing aside the shotgun. He drew the Reaper, a fearsome blade, and with both hands slashed savagely at Charles's arm.

CLANG—a flare of sparks erupted.

But this time, Charles's eyes widened in disbelief. He watched as his arm was cleaved clean from his body.

White himself was stunned by the power of his strike. The Reaper had actually severed Charles's limb.

At that moment, Turner appeared behind Xiao Feng. With a swift pull, he yanked him to safety, then gripped Charles's fingers, prying them from Xiao Feng's neck.

CRACK—Turner's immense strength snapped Charles's fingers like twigs. He checked Xiao Feng's pulse—still alive. Relief washed over him.

White wasn't done. With rage still blazing, he raised the Reaper once more, though the blade had chipped from the sheer force of the previous blow.

Charles, enraged now, seized the blade mid-swing. Then, with a brutal kick, he drove his foot into White's chest.

BANG—White was hurled backward, ribs shattering, blood spraying from his mouth.

Brada and White now lay broken on the ground.

Charles turned his fury toward Rice. Charging forward, he lashed out with a whip-like kick, striking Turner and sending him sprawling. The sheer physical power, though unaided by any visible ability, was monstrous.

Let me know if you'd like to continue with the next chapter or refine this translation further.