The Supreme Man: Took Everything in Power
Chapter 815 A Fraction of a Second's Opportunity!

Wendell's palms were drenched in sweat. While he had handled guns before, he had never fired a bullet at a person. He felt extremely anxious, but for the sake of Kingsley, he had to put his fear aside. Taking a deep breath, Wendell abruptly raised the handgun, pointing the dark muzzle toward the wrestling stage where Jake and Kingsley were engaged in a tense struggle. At this moment, they were almost in a state of relative stillness due to their ongoing power struggle.

Though Wendell's marksmanship wasn't precise, hitting a nearly stationary target presented no problem. However, just as Wendell was about to pull the trigger, Bronte lunged at him like a predatory lion. Bronte was a true ancient martial arts successor, and his movements were lightning-fast. In the blink of an eye, his fist had reached Wendell's chest.

Bam!

A thunderous sound of flesh meeting fist echoed as Wendell was sent flying backward, spewing a mouthful of blood.

"Ah!" He screamed in agony and pulled the trigger with all his remaining strength.

Bang!

The gunshot rang out, causing everyone who had been glued to the stage to shudder. Simultaneously, Wendell crashed violently onto the ground, his breath fading away.

His shot did not hit Jake but instead struck the ceiling. However, this unexpected scare also caused Jake to lose his grip momentarily. It was just a fraction of a second, but it gave Kingsley a chance to catch his breath.

In that split second, Kingsley seized the opportunity to shift from a defensive to an offensive stance. He began to employ the martial arts techniques his adoptive father had taught him and launched an attack on Jake.

"Wendell!" Baron shouted frantically, and he rushed over to Wendell. Other members of the Black Fist Gang nearby also crowded around, calling out, "Mr. Martin!"

Wendell lay on the ground, still coughing up blood, and his gaze seemed to be losing focus. Still, he held onto the handgun Kingsley gave him.

He grinned through his pain and managed to say, "How... How's it? Can Boss Nicholas win now?" Cough... Cough...

His words were cut off as blood choked him.

Bronte had already stepped halfway into the Martial Master rank, and his punches could even penetrate steel. Just now, he had been worried about his grandfather on the stage, so he had exerted nearly ten times his usual strength.

How could Wendell, who wasn't even a martial arts expert, withstand such a powerful blow from this ancient martial arts successor?

As Wendell's breath grew weaker, Baron's eyes turned bloodshot.

He turned to glare fiercely at Bronte. If looks could kill, the latter would've died a thousand deaths by now.

"What are you looking at?!" Bronte retorted, equally ferocious. "You guys have no martial ethics, resorting to firearms in a competition! If I hadn't spared him, he'd be dead by now! Keep glaring at me, and I'll knock all of you down!"

Just as Bronte shouted, the sounds of fists and feet colliding echoed from the stage.

Jake swung his fist vigorously, looking astonished. "What kind of martial art is this? Why is it so peculiar?"

Kingsley, who was gradually losing ground, asked, "You don't recognize this martial art?"

He had thought that the Stewart elders would be familiar with this martial art, but to his surprise, even Jake had never seen it before.

Could it be that the martial arts his godfather taught him didn't originate from the Stewart Family? If that were the case, where should he go to improve his skills?!

Just as Kingsley was lost in thought, a loud shout came from the audience. "Stop!"