Chapter 71: Fighting to the Death

This was mainly because, in that fleeting moment, Beast had already discerned more than one set of footsteps. Moreover, even after knocking down that person, he did not feel that the threat had been eliminated.

Sure enough, just as he toppled the first assailant, two wooden clubs suddenly swung at his head from the side. In that instant, Beast hurled the sports drink he was holding toward the left, striking the attacker’s abdomen and forcing him to stagger backward.

The club on his right was about to descend upon him when Beast, enduring searing pain, reached out and grabbed it firmly. With a powerful tug, he yanked the wielder off balance; as the hand loosened, the club fell directly into Beast’s grasp.

The body that Beast inhabited belonged to Wang Jie—a fat man. Sometimes, being overweight does not necessarily mean being weak. For Beast at that moment, this body was an advantage.

In gaming terms, he was now a tank, a T—the character with the highest health and defense. Of course, in games, such characters typically have lower attack power. But in reality, when armed, how low could one’s attack truly be?

Returning to the story, as Beast seized the club, the last adversary broke free from Beast’s ‘seal,’ exerting a force that sent Beast stumbling sideways.

At the same time, the one who had been knocked back by the sports drink now wielded his club again, swinging it at Beast. Behind Beast, others with clubs also moved in to strike.

Seeing this, a glint of madness flashed in Beast’s eyes. One hand shielded his chest, while the other swung at the feet to his side.

Instantly, pain seared through Beast’s arm as it was struck—he could not tell if any bones were broken. But likewise, the attacker whose foot was hit collapsed, screaming in agony.

Just as another adversary prepared to attack Beast, Beast threw his club at him, striking his nose and eliciting another cry of pain.

Immediately after, Beast performed a nimble kip-up—perhaps triggered by danger, Wang Jie’s body unleashed hidden potential. Though overweight, he was surprisingly agile, like a nimble fat man.

He stood up, then stomped on the foot of the attacker whose nose had been struck, causing another cry of pain and forcing him to drop his club.

Beast’s eyes brightened at this; he moved to grab the fallen club, but suddenly a noise sounded behind him. Though unsure what was happening, Beast reacted instinctively, dodging to the side.

He saw a burly man lunging from behind; had he not avoided him, Beast would have been tackled.

But as Beast evaded the burly man, two arms appeared behind him, wrapping around his chest and locking him tightly.

Especially now, with one arm radiating pain, the embrace intensified the agony, as if urging Beast not to resist.

It had been mentioned that Wang Jie was fat; had he been a skinny man, the burly attacker would have subdued him completely. But because of his size, the man could not restrain Beast entirely.

As the burly man squeezed Beast’s injured arm, pain surged to his head. An ordinary person would have collapsed, but Beast, with astonishing willpower, endured. In that instant, Beast stomped, crushing the attacker’s foot behind him.

“Ah!” The burly man cried out in pain, instinctively loosening his grip. Though it lasted only a second, Beast seized the moment—despite the pain, he twisted free from the man’s grasp.

He barely had time to catch his breath before two clubs appeared before him, swinging for his head.

The head is the most vulnerable part of the body; elsewhere, a couple of blows may not be fatal, but a strike to the skull could ruin him. Even if outwardly nothing seemed amiss, a hospital visit would surely be necessary.

Thus, seeing the clubs, Beast did not hesitate. He reached out with both hands, catching them mid-swing. But this meant he had to absorb the full force of their blows.

His already injured arm went limp at once. Without looking, he knew something was seriously wrong with his bones—perhaps a break, perhaps worse, but only a hospital could tell.

His uninjured arm also made a cracking sound, but since it hadn’t been hit before, it survived the blow.

In that moment, Beast summoned a surge of primal strength, snapping the club in his hand in two. Its jagged break bristled with sharp splinters.

At that instant, a figure rushed from behind, club in hand, and struck Beast’s head. This time, Beast did not defend himself—indeed, he could not.

Both arms—one was useless, the other barely functional. If he used them to defend, how could he attack? So Beast chose offense. More precisely, he chose to retaliate.

As the club struck his head, Beast thrust the broken end of his own club forward; to onlookers, it seemed to pierce straight into his attacker’s abdomen.

Then, with a swift movement, he seized the attacker’s club, wrested it away, and with a half-turn, smashed it into a stunned burly man nearby.

Whether there had already been cracks, or the man had a particularly hard head, or perhaps Beast was just too strong, the club broke cleanly in two.