Vikram curved his lips into a smile, standing with his hands on his hips as he watched the six people rush towards him.
He definitely had to kill these dog-like neighbors who came to cause trouble near the territory every day.
He wasn't afraid of these people coming at him together; he was only afraid of them splitting up and running away.
In the wilderness, coupled with the pitch-black darkness, chasing them would be too troublesome. Now, them charging at him together was exactly what he wanted.
In that short amount of time, the six opponents had already rushed in front of him, each holding a weapon.
The man at the very front, holding a machete, was the first to strike at his waist, but Vikram merely scoffed.
He hadn't even pulled out a weapon. Before the opponent's machete could touch his waist, he grabbed the hand holding the knife.
With a slight twist of the wrist, "Crack!" accompanied by a crisp sound, the hand holding the knife was already broken.
