Chapter 563 Eight Hundred Isn’t Enough

• Tap-tap-tap—
• Fast, steady footsteps rolled in like waves. From every corner of the massive stadium, a black tide surged out—four or five hundred men at least—packing the once-empty stands to bursting. Each one gripped a gleaming machete, the air around them sharp and feral.
• Under the blue sky, dark clouds suddenly piled up, blotting out the sun. A cold wind knifed through, chilling to the bone.