With a swift punch, Chuck was sent flying.


    "Using your true energy to conceal yourself? That''s just a desperate trick. You''re merely draining your own life force. Enough of this; I''ll end you now!"


    Vizimir charged forward with explosive speed, his iron fist aimed directly at Chuck''s face. The sheer force of his punch tore through the energy and shattered Chuck''s disguise.


    Suddenly, a stick appeared and lifted Chuck, narrowly saving him from certain death. Someone had intervened. Vizimir turned to see a man standing before him -a shirtless man in his 30s with a muscr build. His face was covered in stubble, and he had a scar running across his left eye. The man looked fierce and intimidating as he retracted the stick and pushed Chuck aside.


    "Kid, get out of here!" the man urged.


    Chuck quickly expressed his gratitude, "Thank you! We''ll meet again if fate allows!"


    Without wasting any time, Chuck fled at full speed, knowing that in his current state, he was no match for anyone here. He needed to recover and train before he could return.


    Vizimir watched Chuck leave with incredible frustration. "You bastard! You must have a death wish!"


    The muscr man scoffed. "I can''t stand cowards like you who only pick on the weak. Kid, allow me, Mr. Zas, to teach you a lesson!"


    The two men stood facing each other, and Vizimir quickly realized that the man before him was not someone to be taken lightly. The surge of true energy emanating from his opponent was on par with his own, indicating they were of simr strength.


    Vizimir immediately lost the desire to fight since he would never engage in a battle he might lose.


    "Are you from the Stick Gang?" he asked cautiously.


    The muscr man chuckled. "So, you do recognize me. Yes, I''m from the Stick Gang. Remember the name-Francel Zas!"


    With that, Francel swung his stick, forcing Vizimir to dodge quickly. The moment the stick hit the ground, it kicked up a cloud of dust and left a deep crack in the earth.


    When the dust settled, Vizimir was nowhere to be seen.


    "He ran away pretty fast," Francel muttered, slightly disappointed. He then turned to continue his search for a worthy opponent.


    Francel was the first to enter the


    battlefield. His only interest was


    finding someone strong enough to


    challenge him. Gods and the g


    held no allure for him. He just wanted to test his skills against powerful people.


    Just then, his phone rang.


    "Hello?"


    "Where have you been?! Are you still in business or not?"


    "Oh, oh! Yes, yes! I''ll be right back!" Francel quickly ended the call and sprinted back toward the city.


    Laikaa, as mentioned before, was a city built amidst mountains. Despite its rtively small area, its status as thergest city in the Western Territory was mainly due to itsplex multiyered structure.


    The city''s development varied significantly between the upper and lower levels, with the upper areas being more prosperous and the lower ones more deprived.


    This disparity led to limited and


    vevied


    iplete road systems, with most of the existing roads serving the upper levels. Lacking adequate infrastructure, the lower levels heavily on manualbor for transportation. This necessity gave rise to the Stick Gang, which had thrived in the city for many years.


    On the surface, the Stick Gang appeared to be a small group engaged in manualbor. However the truth was moreplex. Moving heavy objects required more than just brute strength; it also demanded a deep understanding of energy, making it a part of energy cultivation.


    While the members of the Stick Gang were not professional martial artists, they possessed a unique understanding of energy, though they mainly used it as a means to earn a living.


    Few members had the boundless energy that Francel seemed to possess. He not only understood martial arts and energy but also excelled in both. This was why Dusky believed Francel had a high chance of sess.