Shura remained methodical, even as the opponent's attack speed increased, deftly using his withered arm to block. Every time the spectators' hearts reached their throats, he would easily deflect the danger.
The whole demeanor exuded an air of tranquility, as if not for his disabled legs, he would surely give off a commanding presence of dominance.
Bang—
Suddenly, amidst the flurry of silver flashes, Shura's palm struck Silver Hand's chest.
Psh—
The fabric of his chest instantly burst apart.
Silver Hand threw a punch, which Shura barely blocked with his other arm, causing the wheelchair to roll back, leaving cracks across the floor.
Blood spurted out of his mouth, and Silver Hand's face turned extremely grim.
Just who is this disabled person? Each of his moves is filled with an unimaginable intent to kill, as if he were born for slaughter.
This kind of person surely cannot be a nameless nobody.
