Chapter 940 Kickboxing Ste Warrior
“What are you doing! Let go of Mr. Larkin!”
Witnessing Donald subduing Jedidiah and subjecting him to rough treatment, a cluster of
subordinates erupted into mor on the sidelines. Despite their fervent shouting, not one among
them dared to approach and intervene.
Everyone present possessed their fair share of intelligence. They knew they were no match for
Donald. Confronting him would be akin to walking straight into the lion''s den, yielding no meaningful
oue whatsoever.
Donald cast a nonchnt nce toward the underlings and remarked, “Isn''t a bit of friction rather
common in a bar setting? Didn''t your Mr. Larkin just affirm that himself?”
The entire group of subordinates was silently letting loose a barrage of curses within their minds.
Is that what Mr. Larkin meant by friction? Look at what you''re doing! You''re practically grinding Mr.
Larkin''s face away. If this keeps up, he''s going to die!
A divine-stage Penta Ste Warrior—never could Jedidiah have imagined that, once engaged, he
would find himself under Donald''s control.
At this moment, the Ste Warrior energy coursing through Jedidiah had been disrupted by the fall
he had sustained.
It was no longer a question of resistance. Even if Donald were to stand passively and allow himself
to be struck, Jedidiah would likely find it impossible to lift his fist.
Thankfully, the members of the United Hearts Society promptly detected the unusual situation.
The music within the bar came to a halt, and people from the society swiftly initiated the evacuation
process.
A man adorned in a crimson suit emerged in the distance, drawing nearer, followed closely by a
contingent of subordinates whose expressions appeared even more intimidating.
“Sir!”
“Mr. Livingston!”
Upon the arrival of the middle-aged man, those in his vicinity promptly made way, demonstrating
their deference, and extended greetings.
Observing Jedidiah, his countenance marred by fragments of ss, Waldo Livingston settled onto
the couch, lighting a cigar from his pocket with an air of nonchnce.
His gaze shifted to Donald as he inquired, “You''ve got quite the nerve toy a hand on my people in
my territory. So, tell me, who sent you, and what brings you to my establishment?”
“I came here simply for a drink, never anticipating someone would attempt to flirt with my girlfriend. I
didn''t expect the management here to be so unprofessional. I''m clearly the victim here, so why am I
being asked to pay three hundred thousand?” Donald retorted. “I''ve got everything but money.
That''s why I said I couldn''t afford to pay. And isn''t that what''snded us in this present situation?”
Waldo was no fool.
Could an individual capable of effortlessly overwhelming his divine-stage Penta Ste Warrior truly
lack funds?
“Since you''re unwilling to divulge your purpose here, let''s cut the chatter,” Waldo dered,
gesturing. Subsequently, a young man, appearing to be in his early twenties, approached from the
periphery.
The young man removed his jacket, exposing muscles akin to steel tes beneath.
Observing the bandages adorning the young man''s hands and feet, Donald promptly inferred that
the youth was likely engaged in kickboxing.
What amused Donald, even more, was the revtion that this young man was, in fact, a divine-
stage Octo Ste Warrior.
“Berthold Draper. Kickboxing.”
This content is ? N?velDrama.Org.
Even though it was an underground brawl, Berthold upheld all requisite protocols.
Preceding abat engagement with a formal introduction could be interpreted as an expression of
respect toward Donald.
However, Donald fixed Berthold with a frigid smile and retorted, “Within Yorknd, we boast a
myriad of boxing styles, yet you''ve opted to embrace the pugilistic tradition of a diminutive nation.
Do you fancy yourself formidable simply because you''ve acquired expertise in Thymion
kickboxing?”
Berthold''s brows knitted slightly, detecting a hint of discontent as Donald omitted introducing
himself.
Nevertheless, as Berthold swiftly grasped that this wasn''t a formal setting, he promptly recalibrated
his mindset and adopted the offensive posture characteristic of Thymion kickboxing.
He advanced steadily toward Donald, a striking contrast to Jedidiah''s previous impulsive charge.
While his movements appeared deliberate, it didn''t necessarily indicate that Berthold''s attacks
lacked speed.
The instant Donald fell within Berthold''s striking range, a low shout erupted from Berthold''s lips,
apanied by a whip kickunched straight at Donald''s head.
The velocity was so rapid that it left an afterimage, confounding those present, who struggled to
discern the exact position of Berthold''s legs.