Chapter 3990 Mr. Larson Coaches the Enemy Half-Step Grandmasters
- Matthew swept the area with his senses. No grandmasters lurking. Aside from the three half-step grandmasters right in front of them, no reinforcements could rush in for Lawrence’s side. With that, he didn’t rush. He stood there with his disciple, critiquing both sides as they fought. Might as well use the chance to teach the kid a thing or two. “See the guy swinging that big blade?” Once Matthew No-Regrets nodded, Matthew went on. “Those big wide-open moves hit hard, but he’s not quick enough.” “Don’t be fooled just because his opponents look pressured. They’re too dumb to spot the opening.” “If it were me, I’d pull back, keep my distance, use footwork, and wear him out.” “Then I’d strike when he slips—go for the kill.” Matthew No-Regrets got it at once. “Master, I understand!” Matthew hadn’t kept his voice down. So it wasn’t just his disciple who heard him—the fighters in the melee caught every word loud and clear too. Marbond: “???” Seriously? What kind of teammate does that? He’s supposed to be on our side. And yet Matthew was straight-up giving the enemy tips on how to take him down. Exhausting. Sure enough! The two half-step grandmasters trading blows with Marbond had been forced back by his fierce blade work at first. After hearing Matthew’s breakdown, their eyes went cold. They widened the gap fast, then split left and right. Now Marbond could only lunge at one of them at a time. And that’s when the pain started. Every time he attacked, the other one would jump in without hesitation. Marbond’s blade style really was all wide arcs and power. Against those sudden shots, he couldn’t dodge at all—he had to eat them. He staggered a few steps, face flushing. Same half-step realm or not, taking that punch head-on was no picnic. In that brief lull, Marbond shot Matthew a sour side-eye. “Mr. Larson, great coaching!” Matthew couldn’t be bothered by the snark. “Heh. Thanks for the compliment.” Marbond was speechless. Forget it—don’t argue with Matthew. Otherwise, he might not die by the enemy’s hand but from his own teammate pissing him off. He twirled the big blade and charged the two half-step grandmasters again. But now that they had his weak spot, it didn’t matter how he attacked. The two worked in sync—one evaded, the other struck right on cue. Not even twenty exchanges later, blood was already seeping from the corner of Marbond’s mouth. And the one most responsible for that? Matthew, hands down. But why? The question flashed through Marbond’s mind. He’d known Matthew long enough to see him clown around sometimes, sure. But when it came to real business, the man wasn’t careless. He had straight-up pointed out Marbond’s weak point to the enemy. There had to be a reason. He just couldn’t figure it out yet. Thinking hard, he slowly gave up attacking. He lifted the big blade—and shifted into a guard. Across from him, the two half-step grandmasters paused too. In those few seconds of stillness, a spark lit up in Marbond’s head. He swept the greatsword sideways, then hooked a finger at them. “You two.” “Come on.” The move came out of nowhere, and the two half-step grandmasters blinked, thrown off. They traded a look, then nodded. Since Marbond chose to turtle up, they weren’t going to be polite. They split left and right again, moving in to pinch him. Off to the side, Matthew saw it and gave a tiny shake of his head with a faint smile. He couldn’t tell if this guy was actually dumb or just playing dumb. He’d only dropped a few casual lines—and the guy had managed to figure it out.