Chapter 225: Wits Against the Enemy
Chapter 225: Wits Against the Enemy
Thomas and Mary just glanced at them, totally unfazed. Their eyes showed no fear, just calm and confidence.
To them, these ten aggressive people were nothing more than minor obstacles, like a few pebbles on the road, easily kicked aside.
Thomas's earlier punch had the power of a bomb; if he wanted, he could take them down with a few hits, and Mary could do the same.
Mary's lips curled into a confident, provocative smile. "You want revenge? Bring it on."
Before she even finished speaking, she moved with lightning speed, leaping onto a large tree in an instant.
Her movements were as light as a bird, and when her feet landed on the branch, it barely swayed.
This sudden scene instantly drew the attention of the natives, who all turned their gaze to the tree where Mary was, their eyes full of surprise and anger.
They were shocked by Mary's speed, which was so fast they hadn't even reacted.
They were angry because her obvious provocation made them feel deeply insulted.
Thomas turned to Sita, his face serious. "Sita, keep an eye on Amanda. Make sure she doesn't get hurt."
With that, he walked steadily towards the natives, ready to teach them a lesson, not taking them seriously at all.
Seeing Thomas's actions, the natives immediately reacted. Several women holding bows and arrows narrowed their eyes, quickly drawing their bows with practiced ease.
They pulled the bowstrings taut, aiming directly at Mary. With a low shout, arrows rained down, densely packed, shooting towards Mary.
Mary moved swiftly among the branches, her figure as agile as a ghost. She sometimes leaped between branches, sometimes slid along the tree trunk.
Every arrow only grazed her clothes or embedded deeply into the tree trunk beside her, making a dull sound, but never touching her.
George followed closely beside her, his speed equally astonishing.
He would sometimes run to a branch, making noise to attract the natives' attention, causing their arrows to scatter.
Other times, he would charge at the women archers, scaring them into a fluster, forcing them to stop shooting and watch George warily.
George cleverly disrupted them, making their once orderly attacks chaotic, consuming a lot of their energy.
Their breathing became rapid, their chests heaving violently.
Their hands holding the bows began to tremble, and their aim grew worse.
Mary found their disheveled state amusing. Was this what it felt like to toy with your enemies? How fun.
She didn't want to just dodge; she decided to fight back.
She suddenly stopped among the branches, broke off a few twigs, and with a flick of her wrist, the twigs shot down at the natives like arrows.
Though the twigs weren't as sharp as real arrows, Mary infused them with power, and their speed made them painful for the natives.
One woman holding a bow was about to shoot again when a twig hit her wrist unexpectedly.
She cried out in pain, dropping her bow instantly. Her companions, seeing this, got distracted checking on her, disrupting their attack rhythm again.
Mary laughed, her laughter echoing in the air, full of confidence and mockery, ridiculing the natives' overestimation of themselves.
She occasionally made faces at the natives, sticking out her tongue or winking, deliberately provoking them.
The female archers were red with anger but helpless; Mary was too agile for them to hit.
They could only grit their teeth, forcing their tired bodies to keep shooting at Mary, but it was all in vain.
They could only watch as Mary moved freely in the trees, while they were exhausted and breathless.
Mary and George's coordination became more seamless, skillfully maneuvering among the Deer Tribe people.
Turning what seemed like a dangerous standoff into a "game" she controlled, leaving the natives both angry and helpless.
Meanwhile, Thomas, with his agile movements, dodged the natives' attacks with ease.
He deftly avoided their fierce attacks, his every move light and swift.
He skillfully dodged while calmly observing the natives' attack patterns and weaknesses with his sharp eyes.
The five male natives, wielding axes and spears, coordinated their attacks on him.
The axe-wielding native raised his axe high, using his body weight to chop down fiercely.
The axe cut through the air with a whooshing sound, carrying a menacing stance.
The spear-wielding native constantly changed positions, aiming the spear at Thomas's vital points, the spearhead glinting coldly in the sunlight, sending chills down one's spine.
However, Thomas handled it all with ease, as if taking a leisurely stroll.
He sometimes sidestepped, letting the sharp axe graze his clothes and hit the ground, kicking up dust, and sometimes leaned back, letting the spear narrowly miss his nose.
Throughout this seemingly dangerous dodging, Thomas remained calm, his eyes focused and composed, not missing a single detail.
Gradually, he figured out their attack patterns, a confident, slightly playful smile appearing on his lips. He knew how to deal with them.
Suddenly, as if tired of this cat-and-mouse game, he decided to end it.
He moved in a flash, his speed suddenly increasing, weaving through the natives like a shadow.
His movements were so fast they were dizzying, the natives only seeing a blur, unable to react.
Thomas instantly appeared before an axe-wielding native, who stared in terror.
Before he could raise his axe to defend, Thomas swung a punch. It looked simple and casual but contained immense power.
It was a testament to the strength he had built through constant training and combat.
The punch, carrying the force of a tidal wave, hit the native's chest precisely.
The native flew back, his body tracing an arc in the air, crashing heavily into a thick tree trunk.
With a dull thud, the tree trunk trembled slightly, and the native spat out mouthfuls of blood.