Several menacing figures emerged from the bushes, their eyes locked on Clayton with deadly intent—like tigers stalking their prey.
But Clayton remained completely unfazed. Calmly, he scanned his surroundings, checking for hidden ambushers. After a moment of surveying the area, he concluded that this group was the only threat. He exhaled softly, just a little relieved.
Meanwhile, Jones—who had been staring at Clayton without blinking—couldn't help but furrow his brow.
"This kid's... off. Too calm," Jones thought, unease creeping into his chest. A normal person would be panicking right now, surrounded by six enemies. But Clayton wasn't. And that made Jones nervous.
"Does he really think those skeletons can save him? Or... does he have a trump card we don't know about?"
Jones's hesitation grew.
His men started glancing at one another, restless.
"What's wrong, Boss? Why the silence? You scared the city guards might hear us?"
