A few small clods of dirt flew a bit faster, and the men who didn’t react in time got dirt in their eyes. Each of them started cursing loudly, “You little brat!” “Damn it, my eyes!” “So shameless, if you’ve got guts, fight me fair and square like a real man!”

“Pah! A bunch of you charging at me together, and you still have the nerve to talk about fighting fair?”

William Clark cursed with a laugh, and the longsword he’d been holding was already drawn. Seeing that the group’s vision was disrupted by the dust he’d thrown, he didn’t wait for them to recover. He raised his sword and charged straight at them.

“Damn it, if I don’t kill them today, I’ll be the one getting killed! What’s there to be afraid of? It’s not like I’ve never killed before!”

He kept telling himself this in his mind, and the longsword in his hand shot out like a viper flicking its tongue—he did have some common sense: when it comes to killing with a longsword, aside from slashing at vital spots like the throat, stabbing and thrusting are the main ways to kill. He wasn’t about to use the sword like a watermelon knife.

With his mind made up, his thrust was fast and fierce. He hadn’t even finished repeating those words to himself before the sword suddenly halted, and he felt resistance and the sensation of cutting into something.

“Did I hit him?”

He was a little dazed for a moment, but quickly snapped back—this was no time to hesitate. He tightened his grip, yanked his arm back, and with the sound of the sword scraping against flesh, a gush of bright red liquid sprayed out, nearly splattering all over William Clark.

If he hadn’t reacted quickly and jumped back a step, he would’ve been drenched in what you’d call ‘the glory of blood.’

With one successful strike, he didn’t pause for a second. He didn’t even think about things like ‘I killed someone, I killed someone!’ and felt no guilt at all.

“Am I just naturally suited for this kind of life?”

That question flashed through his mind, but in the next instant, his sword swept across the neck of a guy who’d just rushed out of the dust. Before the man even realized what was happening, he felt a chill at his throat, and then saw nothing but red—a huge spray of blood burst out, and once again William Clark dodged aside.

At this point, not counting the first one who fell—the fourth brother—there was only one man left charging at William Clark, and this guy happened to be rubbing his eyes. Of the three, he’d been hit the worst by the dirt.

From the start, he’d been the one cursing the loudest. William Clark figured he’d been hit the hardest, so he left him for last—a lesson learned from years of brawling.

Now, with the other two taken out by William Clark in quick succession, this last guy had just barely regained some vision. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his brother collapsing to the ground, blood spurting from his neck—clearly dead.

The sight scared him out of his wits. He couldn’t understand how, in just a moment, all his brothers were dead. But before he could decide whether to avenge them or run for his life, the young man who’d seemed harmless was already charging at him with sword in hand.

That made him toss all other thoughts aside. Years of experience brought out his ferocity, and he cursed, “You little bastard, you’re looking for death…” as he tried to swing his spiked club and smash the guy who’d killed his brothers into a pulp.

But he barely got the words out before he had to swallow them, replaced by heart-wrenching sobs and pitiful wails.

All because, although William Clark was holding a longsword, his attack went straight for the lower body. The big man was so focused on the sword that he forgot to guard elsewhere, and William Clark seized the chance to land a vicious kick right between his legs!

William Clark put all his strength into that kick. He was sure that, with that much force, even a “Gundam” would be flattened, let alone a human!

Then, while the man was paralyzed and unable to move, William Clark calmly drew his sword across the big man’s carotid artery, ending his suffering.

He’d killed four people in a row. The first was an accident, but the other three died directly by his sword—especially the last one. He could have chosen not to kill him, but he didn’t hesitate at all, which left William Clark feeling a bit unreal.

“That easily… I killed four people?”

Looking at the four corpses on the ground and the blood splattered everywhere, he had to admit that he’d taken down four strong men with ease—and he still had energy to spare.

The moment he realized he still had energy, he suddenly remembered that there were more enemies than just these four. He turned around just in time to see his “discount” junior sister taking advantage of a gap in the enemy’s encirclement, scattering some yellow powder, and then, while the enemy was in chaos, finishing off the guy who’d been harassing her with a quick sword strike.

Then she turned and engaged another, weaker opponent. Judging by the ferocity of her attacks, it was clear she wanted to finish him off quickly so she could focus on the most skilled enemy.