Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 891: Thirty Seconds to Speak

That guy and his so-called unbreakable iron legs met Ethan’s casual kick head-on.

The sharp crack rang out, echoing across the battlefield and straight into everyone’s ears. Those iron legs that had made him famous on the Dark List did not shatter heroically or resist even for a heartbeat. They folded inward, collapsing like wet branches snapped underfoot.

The smug expression on the man’s face twisted instantly into pure agony. His mouth opened, breath drawn for a scream that never had the chance to fully escape. Ethan’s leg, the one already driving in from behind, never slowed.

Boom.

There was a wet, sickening explosion. The man did not go flying. Under normal circumstances, a kick like that would have launched him halfway across the field like a rag doll struck by a battering ram. Ethan’s kick was different. It was sharp, precise, weighted like a blade forged from solid steel and loaded with impossible force. The impact split the man cleanly in half at the waist.

Blood and stench erupted together.

Two kills, back to back, in the space of a few breaths. The burning pressure in Ethan’s chest eased slightly, just enough for his eyes to clear. He turned, locking onto the man fighting Beastie, the one already trying to edge away. Beastie surged forward at the same moment, pinning him in place, cutting off any escape.

The man saw Ethan’s gaze land on him and nearly lost control of his bladder. The three who had died were all his equals, veterans hardened by blood and reputation. How was this monster this strong?

Everyone there was thinking the same thing.

"Pull back! Dark Net screwed us! The intel never said he was this dangerous!"

"Pull back how? He’s too fast!"

Dozens of hunters scrambled backward in panic. Around ten of them had never even joined the fight. Those still locked in combat found themselves unable to disengage.

The blonde, blue-eyed woman, the leader of the German team, was still fighting the massive black dog. That beast had appeared last and killed one of theirs instantly. She had stepped in because she could feel its strength, but its defense was absurd. Her twin daggers might as well have been toys, barely leaving marks. Up to now, she had only been stalling it, keeping it from tearing through the rest of the group.

Before Ethan woke up, they had the spirit artifacts cornered. They could have killed them quickly if they wanted, but greed had held their hands. They wanted the true forms forced out.

Spirit artifacts were supposedly immortal, but if destroyed, the reborn artifact would return with no memories, little more than a newborn. Worse, spirit artifacts were usually timid. When truly cornered, they would summon their true forms, and when those appeared, their power multiplied explosively. That was why the non-combatants had been waiting on the sidelines, ready to jump in once the power spike came.

What no one expected was that no true forms ever appeared.

Instead, their master woke up.

The instant Ethan burst from the water, every elite there had the same greedy thought. Grab him. Force out his spirit treasures. Maybe he even had more hidden on him.

That thought barely had time to exist before Ethan’s actions erased it completely.

Now, murder and plunder were the last things on their minds. Even the Dark Net bounty faded into irrelevance. The only thought left was run.

Some even thought that if they survived this, they would hunt down whoever posted that bounty and kill him themselves.

Panic rippled through the crowd.

"Fall back to the Angel Squad!" someone shouted, already moving.

Another voice followed, strained and desperate. "That bastard wouldn’t even help against one catfish monster. He’s not going to help us!"

"Still better than dying here! I’ll pay for my life if I have to. We’re all Dark Net. It’s about money, right? Angel Squad takes contracts. They want cash too!"

That one voice had a clear head. The rest seized on the idea and broke toward the Angel Squad’s position without hesitation.

Ethan noticed another battlefield in the distance and focused on it. The Dragon of Consumption was there, battered and retreating step by step. Its opponent was an angel with pure white wings.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

"Actual angels? Weren’t they from the Mythic Age? How are they still alive?"

Shock rippled through him, but as he studied those wings, a line surfaced from memory.

"Watch out for those feathered bastards."

The last warning the monkey had ever given him. A warning that broke some kind of rule, punished immediately by endless heavenly lightning that smashed the monkey into the ground.

Until now, Ethan had never truly understood what the monkey meant. Seeing this creature fighting the Dragon made it clear. This was a feathered bastard. White wings meant a two-winged angel. He had seen four-winged ones before at the monkey’s place, likely higher-ranked, but the golden sword they carried was identical. Mass-produced gear.

His gaze slid to the other seven angels, standing motionless like ice sculptures, making no move to help. There was no telling how long the Dragon had been fighting alone. That unreliable bastard was covered in wounds now, scales cracked and blood everywhere.

Something shifted in Ethan’s chest.

The first time he had met the Dragon, it had been arrogant to the point of stupidity. Later, it even tried to betray him, forcing Ethan to use Five-Colored Divine Light to put it down. And now, here it was, beaten half to death, still holding the line for him.

Guess the bastard was reliable after all.

Ethan kept his eyes on that fight, but his hands never stopped. Every hunter still locked in combat died in a single blow. When the last body fell, he finally turned his attention to the blonde woman.

In a flicker, he appeared between her and the massive black dog. His hand shot out as if it pierced space itself, no motion to track, no path to follow. It reappeared already clamped around her throat.

She froze, certain she was dead.

But Ethan held back. He did not crush her. He simply gripped her neck and spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.

"Who posted the bounty?"

"I... I don’t know!"

Fear burned in her eyes, but to Ethan, her answer sounded like stubborn resistance.

"Don’t know? Then what use are you?"

His fingers tightened.

Crack. Crack.

Her neck popped softly under the pressure.

"I’ll... talk..."

Death pressed close enough for her to feel its breath. One more squeeze and she would be gone. The moment the words left her mouth, Ethan loosened his grip. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

"Thirty seconds."

Ethan looked down at her like a king passing judgment, his cold eyes fixed on the woman crouched at his feet.