After several skirmishes, there were only seven or eight strong men left. Besides the two with guns who continued to look for opportunities, the rest had joined in the close combat.
Facing the incessant flurry of fists, Joshua Sulliven didn't dodge either. His two delicate, big hands clenched into fists and swung intensely. Each punch he threw was accompanied by the stifled groans of these strong men. Using such a primal method made the fight extremely exhilarating and unrestrained.
As time passed, sweat poured down his forehead like rain. His white shirt, soaked with sweat and blood, snugly clung to his body, accentuating his perfect physique.
The other two continued to look for opportunities to shoot, but no matter how skilled they were, they couldn't match Joshua's speed. They even accidentally injured their companions several times due to their gunfire. Finally, they had no choice but to discard their guns and join the close combat.
"Ahh--!"
