Nothing could beat his finesse at the moment as the glory of the war belonged to him. A lone general against an entire army, truly the embodiment of a one-man army. His four golden tails were magnificently floating with a pattern as his figure hovered and approached the blonde middle-aged man that had bruises all over his face and body.
The honorable Borton was nowhere in sight as his clothing turned haggard and his hair disheveled from the raw beating of Lyon's copies. Kaiju was dead by his hand, Russel was dead by his hand, and even the old bone that he revered and fear couldn't faze the young man.
Borton let out a grin as he looked at Lyon who crossed his arms against him and put on the iconic smirk. The condescending look could only deter his destroyed pride lower than before. A young man from the latter generation that was supposed to be his son's peers actually surpassed even his own cultivation level without the moon even setting.
