At this critical moment, Baro caught sight of the inclined surface of the road in his peripheral vision. He pushed hard in the opposite direction and rolled down along the slope.
Just as Baro rolled away, the bone club came crashing down.
With just one swing, the smooth ground opened a large hole, dirt flying and a thunderous roar echoing.
Baro didn’t have time to marvel at the power of this master; after dodging the blow, he immediately got up, aiming to escape while the bone club was still embedded in the ground.
However, just as Baro turned around, he saw a massive fist swinging toward his face.
The master didn’t attempt to pull out the bone club stuck in the ground, as Baro expected; instead, he flashed directly in front of Baro for close-quarter combat.
Years of pirate combat experience allowed Baro to barely dodge the punch, but he also lost the opportunity to escape. Helpless, he had no choice but to engage in a tussle with the master.
The master’s strength was immense, each attack like a cannonball hitting Baro. After only a few seconds of resistance, Baro heard cracking sounds coming from within.
His arm bone was directly cracked by the punch!
Faced with this human-shaped beast, Baro became increasingly fearful and powerless as the fight went on. But the master was different; he seemed to thoroughly enjoy this abuse. His eyes grew more and more excited, resembling a deranged man who had taken a secret drug, more so than Renko, who could still restrain his emotions.
One side was inherently timid, while the other grew more courageous with each battle. In such a fight, even if they were evenly matched, the latter would have a greater chance of victory, let alone when they weren’t evenly matched.
Even when he wasn’t injured, Baro wouldn’t have been able to defeat the master. Now, carrying a woman who wasn’t light, he had no chance of being the master’s opponent.
Moreover...
Baro could already hear the footsteps behind him growing closer; he knew that the pursuers were almost upon them.
If he couldn’t break through soon, they would surely be attacked from both front and rear!
Faced with this situation, Baro knew he had to make a decision. He looked at the woman slung over his shoulder, his lips tightly pressed beneath his bearded face.
Gritting his teeth, Baro took a deep breath and, in the gap between exchanges with the master, suddenly pushed the woman toward Little Birch.
"Take her and run, leave this to me!"
In a choice between spiritual faith and himself, Baro chose to sacrifice himself.
Birch: "Cap... Captain Baro, I, I..."
Before Birch could finish speaking, Little Flea pulled him up. "No more talking, the pursuers are coming. We have to do as Captain Baro says, run to Dock No. 4, and maybe there’s a chance!"
Birch looked at Baro, who was already trapped in a fierce battle, and nodded.
As he prepared to flee with Little Flea, Birch walked over to the woman’s side, supported her, and dragged her onto his back.
Little Flea initially wanted Birch to give up on her, but seeing Birch’s determined eyes, the words stuck in his throat.
"Go!"
Just as Little Flea was pulling Birch, ready to cross the bridge first, the master’s arrogant laughter came from behind: "You think you alone can hold me off and let them escape? Dream on!"
Laughter accompanied by a barrage of punches echoed from behind.
Birch couldn’t help but look back, and that glance petrified him. He originally thought they might have a chance to return and call for help for Captain Baro, but reality was harsh. In just two or three seconds, Baro was beaten to the ground.
The reason the master hadn’t chased them was because Baro was holding onto his leg tightly. The master’s bone-crushing punches repeatedly crashed onto Baro’s head, making him a bloody mess, yet Baro didn’t let go.
"Cap... Captain..." That single glance made Birch feel as though his chest was clogged, a suffocating sensation.
Little Flea also saw this scene, and despite admiration, he didn’t forget their mission.
"We will avenge him; we must. Don’t stop now, we still have a chance. Run, run fast!" Little Flea urged Birch not to look back, tightened his hold on him, and rushed toward the bridge.
Birch also understood that returning now would only mean certain death, so he steeled himself and began to accelerate.
However, they hadn’t run far when a violent whistling sound came from behind.
Birch instinctively turned around to see the master pulling out the bone club and hurling it in his direction.
"Turn around quickly!" Little Flea shouted.
There was no way to dodge in time; if the bone club hit, Birch would either die or be grievously injured!
The only option was to turn around and use the woman as a shield to absorb the impact. Of course, this meant the woman’s certain death.
But compared to this woman’s life, Little Flea valued Birch’s life the most.
He shouted desperately, but Birch seemed dumbfounded, standing there motionless.
In less than a second, the bone club came flying, striking Birch’s chest.
Little Flea and Baro, who was a bloody mess in the distance, both shouted "No" in unison.
But it was too late; the immense force not only crushed Birch’s chest inwards but also sent him flying like a cannonball, tracing a parabola as he fell from the bridge into the lake.
The blooming water sprayed up, rippling across the surface.
Water vapor and the smell of blood seeped into Birch’s airways. His brain seemed to register a crisis management directive, numbing his sensation to pain. The only perception remaining was how cold the water felt, and his body seemed beyond control, sinking deeper into the frigid depths.
Yet, in reality, Birch hadn’t sunk to the bottom. He floated on the surface in a spread-eagle position, eyes glazed, ready to close at any moment. That sinking sensation wasn’t of his flesh but of his consciousness and soul nearing expiration.
In the final moment of life, Birch felt an unprecedented serenity, even amidst the pervasive cold.
Birch realized he might be on the brink of death.
He felt somewhat unwilling, but the center of his brain that controlled emotions seemed to cut off the sense of sadness, and this unwillingness quickly vanished, replaced by a sense of release.
Living meant being trapped on this cursed island for a lifetime, a fate worse than death; perhaps dying was better.