No Need to Hold Back

Currently, the situation on the battlefield was as follows:

The Hitman Team consisted of a total of four people, with one member down, leaving three.

Jon's team was also down on one, leaving one remaining.

In other words, Jon had to face Risotto Nero, Prosciutto, and Ghiaccio at the same time.

Among them, Prosciutto's "The Grateful Dead" indiscriminately affected both enemies and allies and could not be used in direct combat, significantly reducing its threat level.

Ghiaccio's "White Album" and Risotto Nero's "Metallica" each possess tricky abilities involving temperature control and magnetism, respectively.

So here was the question.

How would Jon dominate the battlefield and achieve the feat of one against three? 

Jon's expression was solemn as he protected the severely injured Polnareff.

Upon hearing this, Ghiaccio narrowed his eyes.

"You're the one causing trouble here! Why are you opposing our gang?" he shouted.

"No need for idle chatter with him. Let's just kill the one in the sleeveless vest first!"

As the team leader, Risotto Nero remained the most composed.

With a command, Prosciutto and Ghiaccio immediately changed their attack strategy, targeting Polnareff behind Jon.

Bullets and ice blades flew.

Jon crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Armament Haki. Iron Clad!"

Thuds echoed repeatedly.

Luckily, Jon was physically robust and had defensive skills.

Otherwise, he might not have been able to protect Bobo amid the enemy's focused assault.

Polnareff, struggling to maintain his spirits, felt immensely guilty.

"Jon, don't mind me, just go!"

If it weren't for him, Jon wouldn't have to endure such oppression with his skills.

Jon remained silent, protecting Polnareff while engaging in combat.

Risotto Nero inwardly acknowledged the trouble.

"Metallica" consisted of minuscule surrogates hidden within him, capable of releasing iron powder from within the bodies of humans or animals within a radius of 5-10 meters.

Originally, the heavily injured Frenchman would have been the easiest target to kill.

Unexpectedly, the black-haired kid was so crafty, refusing to enter the attack range of his surrogates.

Could there be a mole within the organization, leaking his abilities?

That doesn't seem right.

There were few "Surrogate Messengers" within the organization, and the abilities of surrogates were secrets that no "Surrogate Messenger" would reveal, even to their fellow members.

Even members of the same team had only partial knowledge of each other's abilities, so how did that kid know?

As he pondered, a compressed air bomb flew towards him!

Risotto Nero was greatly alarmed.

"Bang!"

At a critical moment, Ghiaccio swung his ice blade to intercept the sneak attack for the team leader, reminding, "Captain, you can't afford to be like this, stay focused."

"Hmph, mind your own business."

Risotto Nero responded expressionlessly.

After a pause, he spoke in a deep voice, "The enemy's surrogate is similar to Ghiaccio's, belonging to the 'Self-Enhancement' type, with the ability to strengthen their physique and shoot compressed air bombs. Everyone, be cautious."

Prosciutto and Ghiaccio nodded.

In fact, they had also realized this.

Aside from shooting compressed air bombs, the enemy seemed to have no special abilities.

Jon blinked, naturally not foolish enough to correct them.

On that note, the reason he dared to challenge the "Passion" organization's authority was because he understood the enemy's surrogate abilities very well.

As the saying goes, there are never invincible surrogates, only invincible people.

As long as he found a way...

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Jon's mind.

"Bobo, do you trust me?"

Polnareff smirked, "What kind of question is that? We've been trusting each other as close friends for a long time."

"In that case, leave these people to me, and you go ahead."

Jon spoke slowly, "Although I hate to say this, but right now, you can't help me."

"You little brat, your mouth is as venomous as ever."

Polnareff smiled wryly.

At a critical moment, he could still distinguish between priorities.

"I know you're not an ordinary guy. Don't you dare die."

After saying that, Polnareff, dragging his heavy body, limped away.

Risotto Nero's trio's pupils contracted.

Finally, Prosciutto, who couldn't utilize his surrogate ability on the frontline, hurriedly caught up.

Risotto Nero and Ghiaccio kept their eyes fixed on Jon.

However, what they didn't expect was that Jon remained obediently in place, without moving a muscle.

After facing off for a while, Ghiaccio, completely enveloped in the "White Album," couldn't help but sneer, "Hey hey, is this really okay? Your companion is going to die."

A hint of unease rose in Risotto Nero's heart.

The opponent was too calm.

Unnervingly so!

"Likewise, I'll tell you, your companions will die."

Silently estimating the time, feeling it was about right, Jon smiled lightly and took a step back.

The "gate" swung wide open.

His figure suddenly disappeared!

Risotto Nero and Ghiaccio were stunned for a moment, then reacted simultaneously.

"Oh no! We've been fooled!"

On the other side.

"Cough cough, someone like you, how could you possibly kill me?"

Polnareff's skin slackened, and his appearance underwent a certain degree of change.

He coughed violently, as if he had aged several decades.

Prosciutto snorted coldly and, along with his surrogate, approached Polnareff.

In direct combat, because he was afraid of affecting Ghiaccio and Risotto Nero, he didn't dare release his surrogate.

But now.

His body covered in eyes, resembling a humanoid but without lower limbs, the surrogate walked behind Prosciutto like a loyal dog.

"The Grateful Dead," its ability was to release gas that aged surrounding organisms.

Except for Prosciutto, anyone daring to approach "The Grateful Dead" would rapidly age and move closer to death.

"Any last words?"

Prosciutto said as he raised his gun.

At that moment, Jon suddenly appeared from behind him.

Without a word, he threw a punch!

"What!"

Never did they imagine the enemy would appear from behind.

Prosciutto was directly sent flying!

Stepping out from the "inner world," Jon felt his breathing become significantly heavier.

Without time to think further, he dashed to Prosciutto, who was lying on the ground, and mercilessly started pounding him.

"Muda muda muda muda muda!"

When dealing with enemies, one must be ruthless like the autumn wind sweeping fallen leaves.

Jon deeply understood that if he couldn't finish off Prosciutto before he aged to death, then this battle would be his complete defeat.

Fortunately, he had practiced Hamon breathing since childhood, and his vitality was several times that of an ordinary person, so the aging effects were not immediately noticeable.

Polnareff stared blankly as Jon rode on the enemy, beating him relentlessly, and suddenly understood something.

After all the fuss, it turns out he was just bait!

Not only Polnareff, but Prosciutto also realized.

This black-haired kid's surrogate ability wasn't about shooting compressed air bombs; they had been deceived!

"Armament Haki. Hamon Sprint. Iron Clad. Crush!"

Seeing Prosciutto stubbornly holding on, Jon unleashed his fury.

Layering on buff after buff, he aimed a punch squarely at Prosciutto's head.

"Boom!"

The ground shattered, and shockwaves rippled out.

The aging gas spewed by "The Grateful Dead" abruptly stopped.