Under the dim moonlight, that sudden, burly figure slowly pulled his hand out from the sunken road, straightened his back, and flashed a ferocious grin at the dark silhouette not far away.

The gaunt shadow let out a hoarse voice: “Apocalypse Armament—Shattering Iron Spike?!”

“You recognize this? Very good.” Not far away, the burly figure grinned even wider. “Then you must know who I am?”

On the pale snow, the pitch-black shadow suddenly let out a hoarse laugh, like a night owl: “Of course I know. You are Henry York, the Henry York of the ‘Foundation’, the Henry York who inherited the name ‘虎彻’.”

“You know quite a lot, don’t you.”

Henry York’s burly body advanced slowly through the night like a boulder: “In the name of the ‘Foundation’, I am enforcing the ‘Ability User Autonomy Treaty’, Article 6, Section 11, and placing you under arrest. But I do hope you’ll resist as much as possible.”

He paused, no longer concealing the murderous intent in his heart: “That way… you can die legally!”

Before the words had even faded, the air exploded with a crack, and Henry York charged forward with unstoppable momentum, like a boulder tumbling down a mountain.

Like a war chariot crushing the earth, he left deep footprints in the crumbling road.

And in that instant, his weight suddenly increased by several hundred times, reaching the third stage of ‘Strength Enhancement’, allowing him to bear this unbelievable weight and turn it into an attack that would strike terror into any enemy!

This was the effect brought by the ‘Apocalypse Armament—Shattering Iron Spike’!

It was as if an enormous, invisible iron spike had appeared in his hand. Henry York roared, unleashing all his power at the dark silhouette.

In a split second, a terrifying boom erupted again, the ground shattered, but the shadow dodged at the last moment, narrowly escaping a blow that would have pulverized him.

Immediately after, a blast like an explosion swept through, violently shaking his insides and making him cough up crimson blood.

And in the instant the two passed each other, a sharp blade shot out from the shadow’s hand.

A flash of cold light, and a thirty-centimeter-long gash was sliced into Henry York’s right arm.

The lightning-fast blade cut through flesh, and only three seconds later did Henry York’s wound burst open, blood gushing out.

“Damn it, his ability isn’t stealth!”

Sam Clark’s voice sounded in his ear: “At least second-stage ‘Speed Enhancement’!”

Henry York took a step back, muttering under his breath: “What’s the damn use of talking about this now!”

On his arm, the almost inhumanly developed muscles squirmed, forcibly closing the wound, but the intense pain kept repeating, as if the blade hadn’t been withdrawn but was still slicing through his arm!

In an instant, Henry York’s brow furrowed—not from pain, but from a sudden realization.

In the darkness, he narrowed his eyes at the shadow on the snow and asked in a deep voice:

“Who are you, really?”

Chapter 7: Life Mark

Who are you, really?

In fact, to Henry York, this was a rather stupid question.

Who else could that guy across from him be?

A vengeful shadow from ‘Valhalla’ under ‘Odin’, the murderer of the Lu Feitie couple, the ability user he wished he could tear apart with his own hands.

An enemy, scum who needed to die to make the world a little cleaner—he’d always thought that as long as he knew this, nothing else needed to be said.

But sometimes, even if it seems stupid, you still have to ask to confirm your suspicions.

“Who are you, really?”

The gaunt shadow seemed to smile, waving the slender seventy-centimeter blade in his hand: “‘虎彻’ sir, do you really not recognize me?”

He chuckled softly, raising the blade that gleamed coldly in the moonlight: “Even if you can’t see my face, you should know what this is, right?”

Seeing Henry York’s sudden look of rage, he sneered and sheathed his blade: “That’s enough for tonight, old friend. Goodbye.”

The final “goodbye” was spoken especially clearly. Before the words had faded, his figure retreated silently like a ghost, melting into the darkness, never to be found again.

Standing where he was, Henry York suddenly looked back into the darkness and shouted, “Sam Clark, don’t shoot!”

The sound of pursuit stopped abruptly. Soon, Sam Clark emerged from the darkness carrying a heavy sniper rifle, his eyes full of confusion.

Why not shoot?

He really wanted to ask. In that instant, he had locked onto the enemy’s figure—if he had pulled the trigger, it would all be over.

But Henry York’s order had made him miss the opportunity.

Sam Clark, who had always trusted him completely, wasn’t angry, just puzzled.

“Because if you fired, the one killed by the bullet wouldn’t be him, but you.”

Henry York, seeing his confusion, panted and said in a low voice, “He let you lock onto him on purpose.”

Sam Clark was stunned for a moment, then walked over to bandage his wound, asking in disbelief, “Who the hell is that guy?”