This time, it wasn't the same frenzied, chaotic attack as before.
Billson's attacks grew more skillful. The pipe struck sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, using feints and deception to make it difficult to predict the true point of impact.
Russell's cane drew silver arcs under the moonlight.
Parry.
Dodge sideways.
Counterattack.
Deflect again.
If Charlotte had been there, she would have noticed that Russell's skill level was exactly the same as when she fought the phantom thief at Buckingham Palace.
As if they had been taught by the same master.
"BANG!"
Another violent clash occurred. Their weapons tangled, forming a deadlock silhouette under the moonlight.
Russell could see Billson's face just a few centimeters away, twisted in pain, his bloodshot eyes burning with a desperate will to survive.
"Who the hell are you?"
Billson gritted his teeth and squeezed out the words.
"Scotland Yard officer? You don't look like one. Bounty hunter? You're not that old."
"Student."
Russell said.
Billson was momentarily at a loss for words.
Taking advantage of that brief hesitation, Russell suddenly exerted all his strength, thrust the cane forward while twisting his body sideways, and kicked Billson in the abdomen.
The kick landed perfectly.
Billson groaned and staggered back several steps, slamming his back hard against the corridor wall.
His body paused for an instant, but he quickly regained his balance. His hand still gripped the iron pipe, and his eyes remained fixed on Russell.
"Student…" He repeated the word, his mockery deepening. "Are all students these days this good at fighting?"
"It's no big deal. High school students can save the world."
"It's pathetic that a university student like me can only properly fight against small fries."
As he spoke, he adjusted his posture and swept his gaze over Billson's entire body, looking for the next opening.
"Billson."
Russell softened his voice slightly. "The Professor is trying to kill you. The only one who can protect you right now is Scotland Yard."
"If you throw down your weapon and come with us, you—"
Before Billson finished speaking, he suddenly let out a roar and charged at Russell with frenzied intensity, like a beast driven to the brink of despair!
In this moment, he no longer cared about any moves or techniques.
He simply wanted to take someone down with him.
Russell lightly furrowed his brows and raised his cane as he moved toward him.
Once again, the sound of metal violently clashing echoed through the empty corridor.
Under the moonlight, the two figures tangled, separated, and tangled again.
Russell's clothes were torn by the iron pipe. Billson's shoulder was struck hard by the cane, producing a dull thud.
But he didn't stop there.
He seemed unaware of his own injuries. His eyes bloodshot, he swung his weapon again and again.
Russell began to feel the pressure gradually increasing.
Not because Billson had gotten stronger, but because he had stopped caring.
He no longer cared whether he got injured or whether he survived. He simply attacked with instinct and rage, tearing and biting like a wild dog.
Another violent clash occurred. Russell's cane nearly fell from his hand.
He took half a step back, barely regained his balance, and was about to counterattack when—
Billson pulled out a short knife from his waist with his left hand.
Under the moonlight, the knife gleamed coldly, its sharp blade piercing to the eyes.
Russell's pupils contracted slightly.
Billson's right hand gripped the iron pipe as he charged toward him at tremendous speed again.
Russell dodged to the side while simultaneously swinging his cane downward toward Billson's lower body, but Billson leaped up to avoid it.
However, upon landing, he momentarily lost his balance and took a step back.
Seeing this, Russell didn't hesitate. He immediately seized the opportunity, stepped forward, and thrust the cane like a sword, striking hard against Billson's chest.
Billson groaned and fell backward, but he didn't fall completely.
Staggering, he supported himself against the wall with his left hand, which held the dagger, then raised his face and stared fixedly at Russell with bloodshot eyes.
There was something in those eyes that Russell had never seen before.
Then he straightened his posture and charged at Russell.
This time, he didn't defend at all.
He charged.
At maximum speed, maximum power, and with the most reckless attitude.
Russell's cane struck Billson's shoulder.
That cane was made of high-quality hardwood, and a single blow was powerful enough to knock an adult male to the ground.
A dull thud came from Billson's shoulder, and his body tilted to one side, but he didn't stop.
He no longer cared about his arm, which he could no longer lift, and continued charging while gripping the dagger firmly in his remaining hand.
Russell landed a second punch to his abdomen.
The tip of the cane pierced Billson's abdomen. He doubled over and coughed up blood.
But even stimulated by adrenaline, Billson didn't stop.
Instead, he closed the distance with Russell and raised the dagger in his hand.
The blade's tip gleamed coldly in the moonlight, drawing Russell's attention.
But in the next instant, Billson suddenly threw the knife away.
Russell's attention was drawn to the direction the dagger had fallen, and he didn't notice Billson. Billson leaped at him like a wild beast.
"BANG!"
With a dull thud, Russell took a tremendous impact head-on and was pushed toward the end of the corridor.
Russell's back slammed hard against the handrail. The handrail creaked under the weight, threatening to collapse at any moment.
Billson's face was just a few centimeters away, right in front of Russell's eyes.
His face was covered in blood and sweat, his eyes wide open, but his pupils were unfocused as he stared at him.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and warm, sticky blood soaked into Russell's collar.
Billson let out a roar and gripped Russell's cane with both hands, using all his strength to try to push him off the second floor.
"Go to hell!"
Damn it…!
Russell gritted his teeth, leaned against the handrail, gripped the cane tightly, and grappled with Billson.
"If the Professor is trying to kill you, the only one who can protect you is Scotland Yard."
He gritted his teeth and said, "It's not too late to surrender!"
At this moment, Billson's eyes were bloodshot, and his face was twisted into a ferocious, mad expression.
He seemed to have realized he had no escape and thought that if he was going down anyway, he might as well take someone with him.
"The Professor and Scotland Yard can both go to hell. No one in this world can judge me!"
Russell could feel his body slowly sinking.
Open combat wouldn't be a problem, but unfortunately, the current situation had turned into a contest of strength.
Billson's physique and strength were incomparable to his.
The creaking of the handrail grew louder and louder, threatening to break at any moment.
He could even smell the intense, nauseating scent of tobacco mixed with sweat and alcohol coming from Billson.
This can't continue.
Russell took a deep breath, raised his knee, and drove it into Billson's abdomen—right where he had been struck by the cane.
Billson groaned, and the pressure on his hands instantly eased.
Now.
Russell suddenly turned sideways and used Billson's forward momentum to pull him.
Billson missed his target and staggered toward the handrail.
Russell's cane struck precisely at the back of Billson's knee, forcing him to one knee. At the same time, the cane pressed against his neck, pinning him firmly against the handrail.
"Don't move."
His voice was low and menacing. "If you don't want to die, behave yourself."
Billson exhaled roughly like a wild beast that had been subdued but not yet tamed. His eyes were bloodshot, and he kept tilting his head back, trying to resist.
With the cane tightly constricting his throat, he could only produce muffled growls.
Russell placed his foot on Billson's back and pushed forward. Billson's vision gradually blurred from the suffocation, and his resistance weakened.
He felt as though he couldn't breathe.
Just before consciousness faded, Billson's eyes seemed to catch something. He stared straight ahead, trying to make out something in his gradually blurring vision.
In the next instant, his pupils suddenly contracted, and his eyes were filled with shock and terror.
Then he completely lost consciousness.
Seeing this, Russell let out a sigh of relief and withdrew his foot.
Just as he was about to find something to tie up the shocked Billson—
"BANG!"
A sharp gunshot rang out, echoing through the silent mansion.
…
…
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