Blood spurted from the joint where Kristoff’s left arm used to be moments before it was chopped clean off by Jared’s sword. As a final act of vengeance, the dismembered limb was still holding Lizbeth in its demonic clutches. Nimbly making use of the distraction, Lizbeth rolled on the spot and rid herself of its grip.
This time, the scream of pain was even more agonizing. In his blinding rage, he kicked the white wolf’s chest with such force that it would have shattered a boulder.
The white wolf merely skidded several feet behind it before springing to its feet again, seemingly unscathed.
Kristoff’s strength was comparable to that of a Great Grandmaster’s at the peak. Under equivalent terms, this white wolf would be comparable to a Martial Arts Grandmaster. As a result, Kristoff’s kick did not hurt it at all.
Kristoff’s screams caught the attention of his subordinates. The men under the employ of the Shalvis family hurriedly detached themselves from the battle with the Thunderstorm Sect and ran to Kristoff’s aid.
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