"Boss!"
In that instant, both Metheus's underlings and Li Xing and Li Yue alike cried out, charging forward without a second thought!
But, to nearly everyone's surprise, just as they charged, Zhou Fan and Metheus—who had been slammed into the ground—both slowly raised a hand. Then, in a comically absurd fashion, they both gave a little wave, signaling for everyone to stay back.
COUGH, COUGH!
A series of ragged coughs echoed out as Zhou Fan and Metheus struggled to climb slowly to their feet.
A gash stretched across Zhou Fan's chest, revealing the stark white bone beneath. It was a gruesome sight. Had the wound been just a fraction deeper, it would have sliced him in two—but it fell short by the barest of margins.
Although Metheus's injuries were also severe, he had far fewer wounds than Zhou Fan. But looking down from his trembling right arm, one could see a clean wound at the wrist, still steadily dripping blood. His right hand lay on the ground between them.
