Wayne shrugged and tossed off his gauntlets to the side.
There was no other implication; out of respect for his opponent, he chose to fight fairly.
Veronica had been holding back at the edge of the arena for quite a while, eager to test her strength against Wayne.
In recent times, her Dragon Bloodline had become more refined, and the Essence of Life within her grew stronger. She was no longer content with simple tests; holding back until now had nearly driven her crazy.
She was determined to give that annoying face a good thrashing today.
Wayne sized up his opponent, noticing the similar garb to that of their teacher, hair coiled up, sleeveless white vest, and a slender appearance that concealed a bloodline of violent, explosive power.
They were of similar height, but her side silhouette was more than one size smaller.
Lady, you’ve got potential too!
Wayne beckoned with his fingers, no time for nonsense, "Come, face me head-on."
Before Veronica could react, he closed the distance between them with a brisk step. His left hand swept by, distracting her, as his right hand darted out, aiming directly for her chest with a claw grip.
Veronica had been watching from the sidelines and was prepared for Wayne’s move. Since the initial exchange wasn’t with full strength, she easily caught his wrist.
Next, it was time to go for the throat!
As Veronica thought this, Wayne burst forth with an explosive move, shoving his right hand forward and pressing it hard against Veronica’s chest.
Veronica blinked, her expression bewildered; she hadn’t expected this at all.
From the sideline, Megan nodded in recognition—indeed, the resemblance to that person was uncanny, practically carved from the same mold.
"You bastard, where the hell are you touching!"
Veronica stepped back, covering her chest, her face flushed with anger.
Wayne frowned and said sternly, "Stop talking nonsense. There’s no distinction between men and women in the ring. If you can’t handle it, step aside and don’t waste my time."
His tone was three parts righteous indignation, three parts matter-of-fact, two parts arrogance, and ninety-two parts utter disdain.
Veronica was shocked by his shameless demeanor; Megan felt it was to be expected—after all, they were cut from the same cloth.
Wayne glanced at his palm: "I’m not even complaining about it scratching my hand, so what’s there for you to be so agitated about."
His fists were hard, very hard!
With one sentence, he lit the fuse on a powder keg. Red light flickered in Veronica’s eyes, and her pale fists conjured a fearsome gale, appearing before Wayne’s face with an unstoppable ferocity.
Wayne dodged, skillfully avoiding the blow. Crouching down, he sidestepped and leaped up, shouldering Veronica’s arm and throwing her off balance.
Veronica shattered the ground beneath her feet to regain her balance and used the momentum to punch, her fist edges shimmering with layers of fine white scales.
The air burst in an instant as if a bomb detonated in mid-air, sending countless shockwaves crashing towards Wayne’s face.
Wayne sidestepped the lethal blow, sweeping her legs to throw her off balance yet again, then collided with her in close-quarters combat.
After several exchanges, they grappled on the ground, each applying groundwork techniques.
At that moment, it was unclear whether Wayne had locked down Veronica or Veronica had locked down Wayne.
Regardless of who had locked whom, this was indecent!
Seeing the two grappling on the ground, the situation completely different from before, Megan clenched her fist, coughed lightly, and put on the brakes to remind them to take it down a notch.
It was futile; Veronica was still furious, determined to show Wayne a thing or two, her limbs tightening and refusing to let go.
Her strength was immense, so much so that Wayne had to be careful in his response, matching her grip for grip.
Forget it, might as well report this as it is.
Night, Grand Cemetery of the West District.
The Undead Warhorse Yuliya leaped out of the portal, bearing its master as they stood amidst tombstones. The cold moon cast its light down, the mist-enshrouded cemetery looked desolate; wisp of will-o’-the-wisps flickered intermittently.
Rustling noises approached from all directions as millipedes converged, taking on humanoid silhouettes in the shadows.
"No, the new generation Death Knight!"
Eight thousand eight hundred words, seeking early-month votes!!