Female Novel
Chatper 429
Frida was caught in disbelief.
She was twentieth in Earthrank but had never even heard of this man who had just dispatched hernovelbin
instantly.
That would mean he must be in the top ten, but she knew the top ten personally, and none of them had
such amazing footwork or martial prowess!
The scrawny man laughed in turn. "Earthrank? It seems you really don't understand that there's always
someone better, lady. Not all martial elites are eager to compete over such vanity, you know."
Frida was taken aback—he was not Earthrank, but his martial arts was sublime... he must be from a
sect!
She had certainly underestimated the martial elites of Riverton!
"What, are you regretting now?" The scrawny man gloated upon seeing the look of regret on her face.
Frida growled through her teeth, "Spare me your nonsense. Just kill me already."
She would prefer a quick death, having her pride as a martial artist too.
In fact, there was nothing surprising about losing.
However, the scrawny man licked his lips as he studied her lecherously. "That would be a waste for that
pretty face."
Frida froze. "What are you doing?"
The man chuckled. "Just going to have some fun..."
Frida was furious and snapped straight at his lecherous face, "You bastard! I'll kill you!"
She refused to fall victim to such depravity before her death!
However, even as she flailed her fists maniacally, the scrawny man thought nothing of it and sunk his
clawlike fingers into her shoulder again!
"Argh!" Frida cried, her blood-curdling scream resounding in the car park.
However, her arm was left dangling limply with those gaping holes left on her shoulders.
The scrawny man snorted in disdain. "Quit resisting when that's all you're capable of, or I'll make you
really suffer."
His bladelike nails slit through Frida's jacket right then, baring her fair skin, leaving just her black bra as
the last bastion of her modesty.
"Bleurgh." Frida suddenly spat in the scrawny man's face.
"I gave you a chance," the man snapped and punched her right in the face.
As Frida bled from her forehead, nose, and lips, she started to drift in and out of her consciousness.
"Hehe." The scrawny man chuckled coolly, seeing that she was no longer resisting.
However, just as he was about to reach for her bra, he felt the burst of air behind him and paled as he
jumped aside!
Shunk!
A silver needle stabbed viciously into a nearby wall, shaking repeatedly from sheer momentum.
The scrawny man's eyes widened in panic—he was lucky he dodged in time, or the needle would have
pierced his head!
He could scarcely imagine the horrible death that awaited when that happened!
"Who was that?!" he bellowed and turned to find three silhouettes slowly striding toward him.
Frank was shaking his head even as he glanced at the corpses strewn all over the floor—Frida was
really a fool.
"Who are you people?" the scrawny man demanded again.
"Frank Lawrence."
"Bron Howard."
"Robert Quill."
The scrawny man was immediately delighted. "So you're Frank Lawrence? Perfect timing. I'm taking
you to Mr. Drakon."
Frank was just about to move when Bron said, "Leave him to me. My son's soul would be honored with
another dead follower of the Salazars."