The Fist King was immediately surrounded by hundreds of attacks from almost fifty Immortal Cultivator players in twenty different directions.
Blades, bullets, acids, venomous arrows, magma, and frost close to absolute zero came at him one after another. A bloody mouth seemed to have been opened in the void and was about to swallow him brutally.
In order to heavily wound the leader of Liberty City, the Fist King had taken the slashes of the enemy's swords dozens of times head on. The functionality of his iron body was already seriously affected.
The fatal ambush from behind further caught him unprepared. He could barely move.
At this moment, it was actually the assassins, or the Immortal Cultivator players, who were in conflict. Everybody was lunging at the Fist King and hamstringing each other openly or secretly.
"Get out of my way. This creep is mine!"
