THE LAST WARRIOR REVENGE

Riot

Arga stepped into the registration area for the contest. The place was already crowded with people queuing up.

“So busy,” Arga thought as he looked around. Suddenly a large man cut in line. Arga’s body was yanked out of the queue.

“Trash to the back! Let me through first!” the man shouted.

Many people stepped aside, afraid to meet his fierce face. The big man pushed his way to the front of the line. Many contestants were angry at what had happened, but none wanted to confront the muscular man. Apparently they knew who he was.

But not Arga. He was annoyed: his place in line had been cut, his body pulled, and the man had even called him trash.

The large man was registering to join the contest. Suddenly a hand clamped onto his right shoulder.

The man turned and saw a handsome young man in red-and-black clothes staring at him coldly.

“Do you want to die?” the bulky man asked, his left hand grabbing Arga’s wrist while Arga kept his grip on the man’s shoulder.

The man thought a single yank would free him, but it didn’t. Arga’s hand still clung to his shoulder tightly, not budging at all.

The man pulled with all his strength to break Arga’s hold, but it was useless. Instead, Arga tightened his grip until the big man dropped to his knees.

Everyone watched in awe. Arga did not say a word. He kept holding until the big man’s shoulder was crushed.

“Aaarggghhhh! Let go! Or I’ll kill you!” the man screamed in pain.

Hearing that, Arga tightened his grip even more until the big man begged for mercy.

“Please sir… forgive me… I beg you… this hurts so much…” the man croaked, helpless. Arga’s grip left him powerless.

“What did you say when your eyes first looked at me?” Arga asked coldly.

The man fell silent.

He tried to remember what he had said to the young man standing before him.

But unfortunately he could not recall anything. All he remembered was that he had cut in front of the young man.

“I… I don’t remember, sir… please let go… it hurts so much…” the man pleaded, his face contorted.

Arga smiled sardonically. His eyes were icy.

“I told you, you big frog — I don’t like being called trash. Understand?”

Suddenly the large man remembered what he had said when he shoved past Arga. But it was too late. Arga threw him aside and hurled him toward the tree in front of the registration area.

The man fainted the moment his body hit the tree hard. His shoulder had turned bruised from bones and flesh crushed. Everyone watched in horror. They even cleared a path for Arga to register first.

While Arga was registering, many of them canceled their participation. The reason was clear: they had just watched a potential opponent toss the big man using only one hand.

After finishing his registration, Arga looked back at the contestants who had been behind him, but he saw no one except the large man, still unconscious not far away.

“Where did they go?” Arga wondered. But he didn’t care and left the registration area.

A few large men approached and blocked his way. They saw someone of their size unconscious under the tree.

Arga stopped directly in front of them.

“Is it true you injured our brother!?” one of the men, equal in size to the one beneath the tree, demanded.

“What’s with these weird people?” Arga thought irritably. Seeing big men who think they’re the strongest was infuriating.

“Someone reported it to us. Only you, the well-dressed youth, hurt our brother!” one of them shouted.

Arga gave a small smile.

“So you’re brothers? Same size as him, and just as stupid,” Arga said coldly.

“Damn it! Kill him! Let’s feed him to the dogs!”

The six of them attacked Arga together. But Arga easily slipped past them.

“Big, dumb, and slow!” Arga taunted, which made the six even angrier.

“Seven Bulls Formation!” yelled the largest among them.

“Boss, there are only six of us! Dul is still unconscious over there!”

“What!? Wake him up!” the biggest man shouted.

“Boss! He’s unconscious! How can we wake someone who’s out cold? He might already be dead!”

Hearing their conversation, Arga barely stifled a laugh.

“Really stupid people,” he thought, smiling. He felt slightly amused after three years of intense training.

“Okay then, form the Six Bulls Formation!” ordered the biggest of the group.

“This is a new formation, boss?” one of the others asked, making Arga almost laugh.

“Gelo! It’s the same as the Seven Formation. Since there are six of us, we just rename it Six Bulls Formation!”

Arga couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. He laughed out loud watching the six bulky men bicker.

Seeing Arga mocking them, they attacked angrily in formation.

Arga was surprised how coordinated the six attackers were. Three of them didn’t try to punch; instead they moved as if to grab him.

Arga realized their plan: they wanted to seize him. Sure enough, as soon as he understood their intent, one of the six grabbed his leg.

Then, with a single throw, Arga’s body flew through the air.

“Rampaging Bull Formation!”

As Arga crashed downward, the six men hit him one after another.

He was hurled into the wooden registration stall.

Crash!

The little booth collapsed instantly. The attendant ran away.

Arga stood up, his face furious. He felt sudden stabs of pain across his body.

“Trash like you laughs at us! Now learn your lesson hahahaha!” one of them mocked.

Arga shot him an annoyed look and clenched his fist. He surged forward toward the six men.

“Form the Six Bulls Net!”

Arga had already felt the strength of the previous two formations. He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.

His fist struck the chest of one of them in a flash.

Thud!

The man’s body flew back five meters. He collapsed, several ribs broken and protruding through his skin.

The other five were stunned.

But Arga moved swiftly among them and finished them off one by one.

At last, all six big men lay prostrate with severe injuries.

“Never show your faces in front of me again, or I will slice you to pieces. I’ll spare you this time, but not the next,” Arga said coldly, then walked away.