. . “Flying Logan?” Mateo’s eyes widened slightly, glinting with a hint of surprise when he heard Logan utter his name so calmly and confidently. He had certainly heard of Flying Logan’s feats before—extraordinary achievements that had made a name for him in the martial arts world. Feats so impressive that even someone as proud as Mateo had to acknowledge them. The mere mention of Logan’s name would normally be enough to make people take a step back, but Mateo wasn’t just anyone. He prided himself on his own potential, and there was no way he would drop his pride so easily, not even for someone of Logan’s caliber. “You’re Flying Logan, and so what?” Mateo sneered, puffing out his chest with defiance. “Do you expect me to tremble in fear just because of your reputation?” “No, not at all,” Logan replied coolly, his expression unchanging. “I’m not asking you to be afraid. I’m simply stating that if you want to get to my teammate, you’ll have to go through me first. And if you’re will

. . Noticing that Hendrix had already reached the finish line, the rest of the martial artists became more determined than ever. The intensity of the race escalated dramatically, and the level of violence soared as competitors clashed ferociously, each refusing to back down. The reason why the martial artists reacted with such vigor was clear: now they were all competing for second place, and not a single one of them was willing to let that opportunity slip through their fingers. Most of the martial artists had reluctantly accepted that Hendrix would claim the top spot in the competition. Given his overwhelming prowess and dominance, they didn’t dare to entertain the hope of winning first place. Instead, they set their sights on the second-best position, pouring all their energy into securing it. With such fierce competition, the death race became a battlefield where brutality reigned supreme. Many fighters were mercilessly killed without hesitation. Some were so gravely injured th

. . Muzan was completely and utterly outraged. His blood boiled with anger, and his mind screamed with the urge to send Landon straight to the underworld. Yet, despite every fiber of his being yearning to act on his rage, he held himself back. The only reason he restrained himself was because he knew he had much more to lose if he continued to take on the role of the aggressor. With only two teammates left on his side, Muzan simply couldn’t afford to lose another member. The stakes were incredibly high, and losing even one more team member would automatically lead to disqualification. In this competition, a team had to maintain at least three active members in order to advance to the next round. If he lost another one of his teammates, the consequences would be not just severe, but catastrophic. To avoid finding himself on the losing side, Muzan knew he had to change his approach. He had to switch to a more defensive strategy and play it safe, even though it went against his nature

..Ten minutes passed, and the fierce battle with the mannequins still showed no sign of ending. In that span of time, many teams had been eliminated, leaving only a handful of contenders. The number of teams still standing strong was not more than ten, but fortunately, Landon’s team was among the few that had managed to endure the relentless assault of the mannequins.‘As expected of Landon,’ thought a familiar lady with white hair, her lips curving into a subtle smile as she focused intently on Landon’s team through one of the numerous screens displaying the ongoing competition.There was no way she could fail to recognize Landon. After all, they had spent a considerable amount of time together in the past. The bond they shared was such that she could effortlessly spot him, even amidst the chaos and brutality of the Deadly Path of the South. What surprised her, however, was the fact that Landon had not informed her of his intention to join the competition. Had she not decided to at

..Thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye for the martial artists, yet it felt like an eternity. Time has a strange way of playing tricks on the mind. When one wants time to move quickly, it seems to drag painfully slow, and when one wishes for it to slow down, it races ahead uncontrollably. This situation was no different for the exhausted martial artists. Most of them desperately wanted time to move slowly so they could recover as much stamina and energy as possible before the commencement of the third round. Yet, despite their hopes, time seemed to accelerate, ticking away faster than they would have liked, leaving them feeling far from satisfied with the outcome.“Alright! Attention, everyone!” the invigilator's voice boomed through the arena, cutting through the lingering silence. “The thirty-minute break has now officially come to an end. We will be moving on to the highly anticipated third round!” His announcement elicited a deafening wave of cheers and applause from the