Chapter 22: The Director Pushed to His Limits

Hah, looks like they are driven into a corner!

Ember chuckled inwardly. The more passive Jesse Pinkman was, the more advantageous it would be for them. When the time came to extort him, he would show no mercy. Therefore, when Qiu Yinong cast another inquiring glance, Ember signaled her to remain calm. The police chief choosing to use the berserk potion played right into his hands, because the buffing abilities of the two black-robed elites were not without cost. Letting the second batch of fighters wear down the stamina and energy of the three black-robed visitors would make his subsequent actions much more convenient.

Of course, this did not prevent Ember from taking a jab at the furious Jesse Pinkman right now: "Chief, it seems your men are quite useless! The previous five didn't even last ten seconds, and yet you went ahead and sent another five up. Those people are currently at the peak of their momentum, isn't this just serving yourself up on a platter?"

Crack!

That was the sound of Jesse Pinkman grinding his teeth. He turned his head somewhat mechanically, staring at Ember as he rebuked in a chilling, deliberate tone: "You are bolstering others' prestige while destroying your own morale! Don't forget, we only just reached a cooperation agreement not long ago!"

"Please also don't forget that just prior to that, you intended to kill us!" Ember shrugged, saying with utter nonchalance, "What I said was merely out of good intentions as a reminder. If Chief is unhappy, then I'll just shut my mouth!"

Jesse Pinkman narrowed his eyes. He thought that although this man and woman lacked formidable strength, they had made a bit of a name for themselves outside the island, and even he—long residing on Maple Island—had heard a little about them. They ought to have some unique capabilities. At this thought, the police chief's heart stirred: "Could it be that you've discerned some trick to this?"

"Haha, Chief is joking. If I had that kind of insight, I would have volunteered for battle long ago. As you rightly said just now, we are partners and ought to share each other's burdens. Unfortunately, our abilities are insufficient, so we can only quietly watch Chief mastermind the strategy!"

"Yes, yes, what a pity!"

Seeing Ember talking nonsense with a straight face, Qiu Yinong held back her smile and chimed in repeatedly.

"Humph!"

Jesse Pinkman swept a cold glance over the two of them. He always felt that these two fellows were hiding something from him, yet having never gained the upper hand in their encounters, his growing passivity with each passing moment left him with strength he could not apply and anger he could not vent. He could only suppress a foul breath as he gazed toward the three black-robed visitors in the center of the ring.

Ember and Qiu Yinong exchanged a secret glance, secretly overjoyed in their hearts. They were now completely certain that the police chief possessed four points in perception at best, while his detection ability was pitifully poor. After all, no matter how one looked at it, he was just an ordinary person, not even close to being well-informed, and naturally incomparable to the information database possessed by players. Moreover, had Qiu Yinong's detection skill not been enhanced and blessed by the Eldest Daughter of the Sun, even the two of them would not have been able to see through the true background of the three black-robed individuals, let alone this police chief.

This situation somewhat matched Jesse Pinkman's persona: when a problem could be solved with fists, what need was there for eyes? In their two previous encounters, the police chief had always fought bare-handed, and his skills were entirely unrelated to shooting, focusing exclusively on technical hand-to-hand combat—truly extremely unorthodox.

"Heaven truly helps me!"

Ember shouted inwardly, and immediately joined Qiu Yinong in quietly appreciating the performance on stage.

The two black-robed elites grasped their chests once more, jointly casting a buff skill. Their figures flickered slightly, revealing that continuously using such abilities would impose a heavy burden on their bodies. Jesse Pinkman did notice the change in the pair, but he viewed it as a favorable sign, believing that the powerful effect of the berserk potion would bring him a belated victory.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, five agile figures took the stage and stood firm. Unlike the previous round, these individuals did not rush to launch an offensive, instead striving to widen the distance between both sides. They needed to follow the Hyena's instructions and create an opportunity for one particular fighter nicknamed "Iron Fist," who had already secretly implanted the berserk potion into his specialized belt, ready to inject it into his body the moment it became necessary.

Of course, the other fighters had no way of knowing this.

Iron Fist surveyed his three opponents, feeling a mixture of shock and suspicion. He had heard from the unfortunately defeated Cable that the lead black-robed man possessed extraordinary strength and must never be underestimated; even if he gained the upper hand in an instant, he had to guard against the opponent's comeback methods. Having learned from that experience, the five fighters adjusted their combat strategy: once the battle began, they would first look for an opportunity to eliminate the two in the rear, and only then deal with the leader depending on the circumstances.

However, the black-robed leader did not wish to give them a chance to stall for time. Instead of waiting for the enemy to approach, he chose to take the initiative. With just a single step, his figure crossed most of the ring, and before one of the fighters could even react, he struck him with a punch that sent him flying off the stage.

The other four instantly felt the immense pressure emanating from the black-robed leader, but they did not lose their composure on that account, hurriedly forming a battle formation to protect Iron Fist behind them. Before stepping onto the stage, the Hyena had promised the five of them that the harder they fought, the greater the bounty, and if they won, the prize money would double. Among the five, Iron Fist was the strongest; otherwise, the Hyena would never have handed the berserk potion over to him.

"Fall back!"

At Iron Fist's command, the four fighters quickly retreated toward the two unmoving black-robed elites. Yet how could the black-robed leader tolerate any threat to his rear guard? With another fierce stomp, the entire ring shook, launching the four fighters into the air. Before they even hit the ground, the black-robed leader sent two of them flying with a flurry of punches and kicks. As he closed in on Iron Fist, the latter—having just touched the ground—instantly tipped off his toes, leaping backward with the lightness of a swallow to successfully dodge the black-robed leader's ferocious fist strike.

This scene caught the black-robed leader slightly off guard and caused the police chief's eyes to light up, because Iron Fist had used this opportunity to reach the side of the two black-robed elites, while the only other surviving fighter on the stage rushed fearlessly toward the black-robed leader, attempting to buy time for Iron Fist.

Through several clashes, he had already deduced that the black-robed leader merely possessed physical attributes far surpassing ordinary people and did not possess the ability to fly or leap through the void. If he wanted to stop the black-robed leader, he had to get past him first—even if it only bought two seconds, it would be worth it. Facing the black-robed leader, determination flashed in this fighter's eyes, yet the black-robed leader only curved the corners of his mouth into a mocking smile, making the fighter's heart tighten.

A smile?

What was so funny?

With his back to Iron Fist, he could not see that the two black-robed elites, whom Jesse Pinkman regarded as unremarkable, actually possessed crowd-control abilities similar to a repulsion ring. The two raised their hands simultaneously and pushed outward through the air. The very moment Iron Fist prepared to strike, he found himself shoved backward by an invisible, massive force, rapidly moving away from his target, brushing past his bewildered companion—one slammed into the railing, while the other was casually swatted off the stage by the black-robed leader.

This combat situation was practically identical to the previous one. The spectators beneath the stage held no hope whatsoever for the lone Iron Fist, simply because the black-robed leader was too strong—so strong it was suffocating.

Yet amidst this desperate plight, Iron Fist let out a roar, slapping both hands hard against his waist. Under the guise of a breathing stance, he secretly activated the berserk potion.

It's coming!

Jesse Pinkman's burning gaze was almost popping out of his sockets. Ember and Qiu Yinong immediately sensed Iron Fist's aura rapidly intensifying. Although outwardly he merely appeared over-excited, his attribute template had now been enhanced to the boss tier. While still inferior to the black-robed leader, he now possessed a certain capital to contend with him.

Strangely enough, when Iron Fist used the berserk potion, the black-robed leader's expression became even more excited than his, and even the two black-robed elites revealed looks of pleasant surprise.

"Haha, I didn't expect this tiny Maple Leaf Town to yield something so interesting for me to discover." The black-robed leader looked at Iron Fist with an intensely cold gaze, "Originally, I just came here to relax and pass the time, and my attacks earlier were just a display of courtesy, but now I've decided I must beat you to death!"

What?

Hearing this, Jesse Pinkman's expression changed drastically. Realizing that the secret of the berserk potion might have been seen through at a glance by the black-robed leader, cold sweat poured down his forehead and he wished he could flee immediately. Ember furrowed his brow, pondered briefly, and a flash of insight suddenly crossed his mind. He immediately said to the police chief, "Don't panic just yet. The situation might not be as simple as you think."

"Then tell me, what other situation could there be?" Jesse Pinkman asked frantically, wishing he could drag Ember down to his death right now.

"At the very least, the identities of these three individuals should have nothing to do with the Mapleblood Family."

"Really? What evidence do you have?"

"Two pieces of evidence!"

Ember met the chief's gaze with a steady expression, raised two fingers, and said calmly, "First, the sacred ability they displayed just now does not originate from the Mapleblood Family. Please trust my judgment on this point. Second, the frequent murder cases recently happening on Maple Island force me to believe they were committed by the organization of these three individuals!"

"You must know that Maple Island is the stronghold of the Mapleblood Family. Committing murders repeatedly here is inevitably a provocation against the Mapleblood family. And that black-robed leader ought to possess the special ability to perceive Mapleblood. Yet when he perceived that his opponent possessed Mapleblood, he openly declared he would beat him to death. Doesn't Chief find this kind of behavior strange? Or do you think these three men in black received word beforehand and came specifically to set a trap for you?"

Having finished his statement, Ember looked at Jesse Pinkman. The latter instantly calmed down, his eyes darting back and forth as sudden realization dawned: "What you say makes some sense. We probably haven't been exposed yet, but even if we have, as long as I kill him, I can still secure a chance to slip away."

However, before the police chief's voice had even faded, Iron Fist—struggling in his dying moments—landed a final uppercut before being pierced straight through the heart by a single finger strike from the black-robed leader. He collapsed onto the stage in a pool of blood, becoming the first fighter to perish on the ring tonight. Even with the assistance of the berserk potion, it could not save his life.

"Damn it!"

Jesse Pinkman was so angry he nearly crushed his fists. He knew that if he did not step in, the fallout from this disturbance might very well destroy him. Yet still harboring a shred of wishful thinking and gambling luck, he suddenly remembered the two people standing beside him—whose strength vastly exceeded that of the elite fighters. The police chief took a deep breath, cupped his fists toward the two of them, and said,

"Help me survive this ordeal, name your conditions... whatever you want!"