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Armed with guns and batons, they swaggered into the “Iron Fist Gambling Hall” opposite the tavern.

Leonard Churchill had been waiting for this opportunity.

He’d spent days gathering information, establishing that the Iron Fist Gambling Hall was one of the Brotherhood’s strongholds.

Fighters in the tier sequence required real combat and harsh training to maintain and enhance their combat power.

Abel was himself an expert fighter and also needed the arena for training.

So, the gambling hall had a sealed underground training facility on the third sub-level.

It was said that Abel would come to train there sporadically.

This was also the conclusion Leonard had come to after analyzing the guy’s movements: the only place he could kill him in the city without drawing trouble.

Seeing his target appear, Leonard continued to sit in the tavern for a while before he made his exit.

…

The Iron Fist Gambling Hall was steeped in a heavy industrial vibe, with a steel structure frame forming the makeshift gambling den.

The life-and-death underground boxing matches were always among the Hunters’ favorite betting activities.

However, such low-tier duels no longer interested Abel, who was now Third Tier.

Three levels below the gambling hall, there was a private, enclosed training arena.

“Thud,” “thud,” “thud”…

The muffled sounds, like hitting a punching bag, reverberated throughout the entire training hall.

But these were not the sounds of a sandbag, but rather the sound of fists smashing against human flesh, bursting skin and tissue.

Upon a closer look, the shirtless Abel, revealing a body of iron-cast dark muscles, blasted a “human punching bag” with a punch that sent them spitting blood and flying backward.

The vast training area was littered with blood, and four bodies already lay there.

The fifth was also killed by that final punch.

As Abel looked at the punching bag that couldn’t stand up, the killing intent in his eyes finally subsided.

Casting a glance at his own fists, with strands of red vitality lingering, he felt a slight sense of pleasure after extracting power.

Live targets would make those guys fight desperately, plus his newly learned killer moves needed a live sacrifice.

But the Hunter targets he had found were of too low a tier, not really adequate for someone like him now.

Just as he was starting to warm up, five targets had already died.

Abel wiped the bloodstains on his hand wraps and, feeling unsatisfied, was ready to practice the Air Strike Boxing Technique on his own.

However, just then, the iron door to the training room was suddenly unlocked from the outside with a “click-click” sound.

Abel frowned, his expression turning displeased.

Everyone in the gang knew he disliked being disturbed during his practice, and he had expressly forbidden anyone from entering during his training.

And now someone entered without even knocking the door?

Just as Abel was about to see which fool was looking for death, he saw a person dressed in a Hunter outfit, seemingly unremarkable, walk in.

The newcomer was none other than Leonard Churchill in disguise.

He entered the training room and closed the heavy iron door behind him.

Casting a sideways glance at the bodies on the floor, Leonard noticed some crimson threads invisible to ordinary people and clicked his tongue, “Evil Air Training Fist?”

They were all Fighters; this wasn’t exactly a secret.

Some ruthless Ancient Boxing Techniques are all about cultivating Killing Intent.

However, it seemed Abel had been practicing some new moves.

No wonder he wanted the area cleared, not allowing others to watch him train.

Leonard had only glanced at the penetrating wounds on the bodies to guess a thing or two.

Being able to blow up a human body with bare hands was no simple Fist Method.

But he didn’t find it problematic; instead, he thought it made things more interesting.

Otherwise, a Third Tier Abel wouldn’t really be much of an opponent.

…

As Abel looked at the person who had appeared before him, his original intent to get angry was replaced by a grave expression in an instant.

Because the guy in front of him was just too calm.

Leonard didn’t beat around the bush but walked a few meters opposite Abel and got straight to the point, “I’ll give you a chance. We fight fair and square, if you win, I won’t kill you.”

After a pause, he added the second half of the proposition, “If you lose, I need some information.”

Listening to these words, Abel’s wolf-like cold eyes narrowed slightly, guessing the visitor had ill-intentions and responded without any courtesy, “Who are you?”

With his current strength and status, not many dared to speak to him this way.

Especially not in the Lionheart Family’s Lion City.

He sized up the person before him, unable to recall any enemy of this sort from his past.

“Me? Heh…”

Leonard had no intention of hiding his identity; it wouldn’t be concealable in a fight.

At these words, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, and his entire face began to visibly distort.

It wasn’t just his facial features; even his body frame shrank, transforming from a burly Hunter back to his original form.

Seeing the face he knew all too well from the arrest warrant, Abel’s pupils shrunk drastically.

Almost reflexively, the Curse Power on his body coalesced instantly, and he entered a combat stance.

He hadn’t forgotten the battle in the Relics!

It was this very man before him who had shattered his confidence.

It was the most humiliating battle of his life!

Abel was the king of fighters in Sinless City, having killed countless card masters of the Same Tier, and had never before been overpowered by an opponent a full tier below him.

More importantly, the shadow of being perfectly countered with every move still haunted him to this day.

He never imagined this guy would have the audacity to come looking for him.

Seeing the change in Abel’s expression, Leonard smiled unconcernedly and voiced an even more astonishing idea, “This time I won’t Transform. If you can beat me, I’ll give you a chance to live.”