Frost swung his arm down. Bang! The sniper fired. The massive bullet hurtled toward Dustin's car like a cannonball. Bang! The car exploded instantly, flames erupting skyward.

"No one could possibly survive that," Frost muttered, watching through his binoculars. "Even sovereign-grade fighters would be incinerated."

"Who bothers with hand-to-hand combat these days?" the sniper grinned, rising. "Times have changed."

"Let's get our money, men," Frost smiled.

After packing up, they prepared to leave. Suddenly, alarm bells rang in Frost's mind. He felt a predator's gaze upon him. He instantly looked northwest, his eyes widening. His teammates followed his gaze, their faces mirroring his shock.

Was he not the target? Why was he still alive?

Dustin and his Hell Guard stood before them, their expressions impassive. They sized up the assassins.

"When did God's Lance become so uncouth?" Dustin asked. "Do you want your organization eradicated?"

Their faces shifted. Who was their target?

Frost narrowed his eyes. He'd been watching through his binoculars. When the bullet struck the car, Dustin was still inside. Even metal would have melted; yet, Dustin, flesh and blood, was unharmed. Frost knew that he himself would have been incinerated. How had Dustin survived?

Bang! Bang! The sniper rapidly fired several shots at Dustin and his Hell Guard. This was a specialized weapon; its power and bullet velocity were exceptional. Even master martial artists couldn't evade them. Yet, with a simple arm movement, Dustin deflected the bullets onto the roof, completely unscathed.

The team paled. Frost's face grew grave. They'd encountered an elite martial artist. Dustin was undoubtedly a sovereign-grade fighter. Cursing Jaxon for withholding this information, Frost yelled to the sniper.

The sniper immediately aimed and fired at Dustin. Bang! The bullet sped forward, the powerful recoil staggering the sniper. He'd fired at point-blank range; no one could possibly dodge that. But what followed shocked them all.

A barrier of pure energy materialized before Dustin. The bullet struck it, creating sparks, but failed to penetrate. Dustin remained unharmed.

The sniper's jaw dropped. Frost was speechless. Dustin had deflected a rifle bullet head-on? Unbelievable! Was he a human tank? Even so, he should have been injured! Could a human truly accomplish this?

Recovering from his shock, Frost's face hardened. He was facing a martial artist of legendary skill. A sovereign-grade fighter? No... Dustin far surpassed that level.

"Who... are you?" Frost finally asked, the question burning in his mind. This was the Wyatt family's supposed "trash"? Preposterous!