The instructor suddenly charged forward, delivering a palm strike toward Slotesky's head. The force behind this strike was immense, yet it carried an unavoidable oppressive feeling.
Fear flashed across Slotesky's face. With his A-level strength, he surprisingly felt unable to resist the strike. How absurd!
"I can't die. If I die, everything I've done becomes meaningless!" Slotesky's pupils contracted.
Unable to evade, he grabbed the third man beside him and hurled him toward the instructor.
With a loud bang, the instructor's palm struck the third man, who crashed heavily to the ground like a kite with a cut string.
The third man stared wide-eyed, spitting blood and looked at the leader with disbelief. Never did he imagine he would be used as fodder by the brother he revered. With resentful eyes, he lay in a pool of blood.
"As expected from my training!" The instructor shook his hand: "I like this ruthless energy!"
Slotesky growled: "Instructor, don't push me!"
