“Heh heh.” The gray-clad assassin let out a sinister laugh, his knife suddenly accelerating. “Sorry, I suddenly don’t feel like answering your question anymore!”

He had paused his blade just now, facing this noble young master with a mocking attitude. At this moment, the gray-clad assassin felt like a cat that had caught a mouse—not in a hurry to kill, but instead toying with it before the end. Teasing such a once lofty noble young master gave his pitiful psyche an unprecedented sense of satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Ethan Brooks suddenly said. “And I suddenly want to tell you something.”

“Fool, in your next life, don’t waste words on your enemy!” Suddenly, Ethan Brooks, who had just looked calm, exploded into action. He grabbed the blade coming at him with his bare hand and shoved it hard. The sharp edge sliced across Ethan Brooks’s palm, leaving a gruesome gash and splattering a trail of blood across the snow. But Ethan Brooks seemed to feel no pain at all.

A frightening green light flashed in Ethan Brooks’s eyes, like a beast awakened from hibernation.

After pushing away the blade, Ethan Brooks’s other hand seized the gray-clad assassin’s hair, and without hesitation, he smashed his head forward in a brutal headbutt.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye!

The change was so sudden that the gray-clad assassin didn’t even have time to react. In fact, he never expected this noble young master to suddenly lash out.

Ethan Brooks’s headbutt struck the unprepared assassin square in the face. The assassin only felt a numbness in his nose, all sensation gone—most likely it was crushed.

As the assassin tried to block Ethan Brooks’s movements, a second headbutt followed immediately.

Then a third, a fourth…

Bang! Bang! Bang! Five or six headbutts in a row left the gray-clad assassin’s mind in a haze, completely lost to the world.

His face, after those blows, was so mangled that even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

“Huff, huff, huff.” Ethan Brooks panted heavily, dragging the assassin by the hair. After that string of headbutts, the assassin was already as limp as a dead pig.

In truth, Ethan Brooks wasn’t in much better shape. The wound on his left hand from pushing away the blade was deep, and his chest, already injured before, had split open again from the violent movement.

And those headbutts—though they looked fierce, this pampered body was actually quite frail. Those headbutts were a case of hurting the enemy a thousand, but injuring himself eight hundred. Ethan Brooks’s mind was a blur, but the sharp pain from his wounds kept him conscious.

At least one thing was certain.

Now, the one holding the power of life and death was no longer the gray-clad assassin, but Ethan Brooks.

“Weren’t you trying to take my life?” Ethan Brooks dragged the assassin up and smiled at him. The smile was gentle beyond words.

The assassin weakly lifted his head, his blurred vision seeing only a terrifyingly smiling face, and a pair of eyes turned black, staring at him with the look one gives the dead.

“Now, why don’t you try taking my life again!” Ethan Brooks pressed his blood-dripping left hand against the assassin’s chin.

Crack!

The assassin’s entire head twisted around. The crisp snap shocked everyone present—twisting off a head with bare hands is no easy feat.

But that’s only true for everyone else here. For Ethan Brooks, who was intimately familiar with every bone in the human body, snapping a neck was as easy as turning his hand. Bang—life gone, the assassin’s body collapsed onto the snow with a thud.

The cold wind howled, lifting the bloodstained robe on Ethan Brooks’s body. The blood on that robe belonged both to Ethan Brooks and to the assassin.

The corpse of the assassin, neck twisted, lay limply beside Ethan Brooks, a testament to the ferocity of this suddenly berserk noble young master.

This starkly contrasting scene made the frail noble youth appear incomparably fierce.

Was this really the sickly young city lord? To kill an assassin barehanded—was this really the usually elegant but somewhat timid young master?

The burly captain George Washington gaped in shock. In that instant, George Washington felt as if the young city lord he had served for fifteen years had suddenly become a different person.

Although the young city lord had always been a good master—kind to his servants and unfailingly elegant—

He had always lacked the masculine fierceness due to his frail health. But now, this young master was exactly to George Washington’s taste.

“How many more of you want my life?” Ethan Brooks swept his gaze around, his black eyes scanning the assassins present. Now, he looked like a man with nothing to lose.

Those bloodthirsty assassins were all stunned.

“Anyone who wants to harm the young master again will have to step over my corpse!” Perhaps inspired by Ethan Brooks’s sudden bravery, the burly captain found a surge of strength from who knows where, breaking through several assassins blocking his way and standing like a wall in front of Ethan Brooks.

The other six surviving silver-armored swordsmen, battered and bruised, also rushed to the captain’s side.