She had the combined grace of a dancer and the smile of a performer enjoying the heat of the moment as she frolicked past the cohorts of frogs and their choruses—other contestants and their calls—with fleet feet. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that a few minds felt motivated to train upon feasting their eyes on her artistic maneuvers.

“Like flies collecting near honey, everyone is attracted to her, although love is felling all who approach her, or should I say 'her loving feet?'” the referee spoke through the mic, referring to Sariyu. “Ahem, is anyone who can hold off her kicks going to stand in her way before she reaches the end of the ice dumpster?”

“Hehehe, he must be talking about us,” like wolves prowling through the snow hail in search of prey, the brown-haired man and the gray-haired man crept through the packs of scuffling men and hounded the only girl in attendance for the test.

It didn’t take long for them both to get to her, but the moment they arrived, a man whom Sariyu had just kicked fell at their feet and soundlessly cried out in distress.

“It’s hard to freely kick in this pool, but her kicks still are taking breaths out of men,” the brown-haired man expounded upon analyzing the condition of the beaten man.

“Heh,” the gray-haired man snickered as his eyes met with Sariyu’s, “we meet again, cheesy cheeks.” He walked toward her while scrutinizing her from top to bottom. “You didn’t fully bloom yet. Girls who couldn’t bloom cannot explode.” He glanced back at his friend, wearing a fleeting smile that stretched a corner of his lips toward the ceiling. “We must help her bloom into a bombsh—”

A fiery cannon of death came into his face in the form of a looming kick that hurtled him to his side for a brief instant before his whole body crashed sideways, splashing water all around locally; however, he got back to his feet just as fast and further beamed a brash smile at her. “Not a bad kick, but it ain’t enough to put me to sleep.” He dashed ahead, his legs pushing through the water in a foolhardy fashion. “If you don’t want to get bloomed by me, at least fund me your cheeks, will ya?”

“The last one didn’t land properly, but it won’t happen again,” Sariyu’s feet quickened onward when the gray-haired man wholly focused his eyes on her legs. As her kick stormed at his body from left, he grinned and curled his arm around her leg in an attempt to grab it. He did succeed, but in that process, her shin stormed straight into his ribs and cracked two of them, drastically changing the gray-haired man’s expression from that of an amused gorilla to that of a disheartened one as he later crashed into the water.

Seeing his friend scream his way into the water, the brown-haired man lost his cool. “How dare you hurt Gul, Hac’s best friend!” he scuttled ahead to attack Sariyu, but someone grabbed his hair from behind. His messy hair got pulled so hard that tears welled up in his eyes. Hac howled in pain as a few hundred strands of hair got ripped out.

“Your hair is so lifeless that even a starving horse wouldn’t mistake it for dried grass,” the one pulling Hac’s hair, Burton, dispassionately spoke before he blew the hairs away with a slight blow of air through his mouth.

“My hair!" Hac's face darkened, his eyes wet and scalp on fire. "My precious hair... Damn you!” As he was about to turn and attack Burton, a sidekick in his waist sent him darting aside a dozen feet.

Sariyu landed in front of Burton, her eyes glancing at both Gul and Hac in succession. “A pair of fools turned freaks.”

“Don’t focus too much on the offense,” Burton cautioned, “this isn’t the time for that.”

“I know, I know... But everyone in this ice dumpster is acting crazily, you know. It’s getting tougher to implement our plays than I imagined,” she looked in the direction of Hardy Brothers who were taking on many men. “Seems like we’ll have to get past those four if we want to win this one.”

“Yeah, the quicker we get to them, the better it is for us,” Burton's eyes surveyed the area around him, possibly looking for any hiding personalities. “But we can’t ignore the fifth one either.”

“Oh, you mean,” she turned toward the entrance of the ice dumpster and noted Aziz, who was quietly watching everything like another spectator. “What’s that guy still doing there?”

“Not sure, but I don’t think that he’s there only to watch,” Burton's smile appeared tight.

Sariyu’s gaze shifted back to Burton, her face glistening with a mix of water and sweat. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, to put it in their terms, you can’t put a wolf to watch the sheep and hope it does not make a move on them,” they both looked back at Aziz, who was observing different contestants at the time.

“A wolf can only watch the sheep for so long without acting, huh...” Sariyu sighed and then gently bit her lower lip. Hoping that the fifth brother didn’t act, if the three of them could reach the remaining four Hardy Brothers before those four took care of most men around them, then the four wouldn’t be able to focus entirely on the three youngsters. That was what Sariyu had been thinking about, but now, she felt like things might not go as favorably as she calculated.

At the time, Burton looked in Lirzod's direction and was at a loss of words for what he regarded.

Lirzod was shaking his hand with a short-braided man, Limon. “Oh, so you hate that Gergora.”

“It’s Geragorn, not Gergora, brother.”

“Yeah, that Brother Piggy,” Lirzod chortled, slight solace emanating from his eyes. “I thought that guy would be here.”

“He was here,” Limon frowned to some degree, "and he won the test in the first attempt itself.”

“Oh," Lirzod crossed the arms across the chest, some tightness building under the eyes, "so he was fast enough to do that.”

“Not really," Limon repined in a half-hearted shake of his head, "he threatened everyone saying, 'If anyone acts like a wolf in front of me, then I would make them live with sheep for the rest of their lives.'” His voice strained further as he continued, “After that nobody dared to run past him.”

“Then, he casually strolled to his victory,” Lirzod maintained a steady eye-contact.

Limon responded in a long and low sigh, "Yeah."

A strange sort of recognition dawned on Lirzod's face, “Haha, that guy is funnier than I thought.”

“Funnier?" Limon's brows furrowed, "What are you talking about?”

“He made the rest of the contestants follow him for as long as he’s in the ice dumpster, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing," Lirzod loosened his arms, face turning a bit rosy. "He said that he would make them live with sheep if they didn’t obey his words, but even if they did, they are all directly becoming sheep by following him even though it would automatically mean they are bound to fail the deck test. From the beginning, he only gave every other contestant only two options: either be with sheep or become a sheep yourself.”

Limon's eyes bulged as he spoke in a disbelieving voice, “So that’s how it was. Either live with sheep or live like a sheep.” An enervating chill crawled over his spine. “It all makes sense now. That bastard, he never bothered to bat an eye for those who were weak." His neck reddened more as words spewed out of his mouth, "Beating a weaker opponent was one thing, but I even saw him torture the defeated ones and either make them join his group, or get a few of their limbs broken or organs stolen.”

“That guy is quite a crook than I assumed.” Lirzod smiled, quirking an eyebrow. “But I think I can understand his actions if I look from his point of view.”

“What the hell do you mean?" Limon gnashed his teeth. "You surely can’t justify all the tortures he put people through.”

“There’s no need to justify anything.”

“I don’t get it. Then how are you...”

“If that guy thinks he’s a wolf and everyone weaker than him is a sheep, then it’s easy to understand why he never cares about the worries of the weak,” Lirzod posture relaxed further, “just like how we never see a wolf grieve to a sheep’s cry, on the grounds that they didn't grow up together.”

“But…” Limon didn’t know what to say. He still didn’t like Geragorn’s actions, but at the same time, he also couldn’t disagree with what Lirzod just said.

At that moment, someone rose out of the water behind Limon and attacked him, “I’m going to become the champion of this round!”

Lirzod kicked in the man’s chest and sent him back, “First become a man.”

“I’m a man!” the bushy-browed man barked. "Are you blind?"

“No. You are neither a man nor a champion,” said Lirzod straightforwardly.

“What?” he squeezed his brows.

“A champion is chosen, but a man is grown,” Lirzod said casually, his arms folded. “Given how you attacked him while he’s conversing with me, you are still at least a step away from being eligible to call yourself a man.”

By this point, the bushy-browed man’s face reddened from the built-up rage. “Enough with your bullshit!” he dashed ahead and punched at Lirzod, but before his fist reached Lirzod, Limon’s slapped on his chest and sent him rolling back. The sound was so loud that it attracted the attention of some audience members.

“Forget about that fool, Brother. What were we talking about again?” Limon looked at Lirzod; however, he didn’t have much time to think, for his eyes enlarged upon detecting an approaching mountain in the form of an eight-feet-tall frame that exuded attitude.

Lirzod, who saw Boksa’s reflection in Limon’s eyes, was a bit surprised. “It was nice meeting you, Limon,” Saying that he ran past him.

“W-Wait!” Limon said, but Lirzod didn’t stop. As his eyes lay on Boksa, determination welled up in them. I wanted to build my fame by beating Geragorn, but I don’t think I can do it myself yet. If I can get a few pointers from Brother Lirzod and boost up my strength, I might gain enough courage to one day stand before Geragorn again, but for now... His lips curled up as came straight in his direction. All the hunger that had developed in his heart over the past few months, the drive to prove himself began to kick in like never before. I will stop this guy first and get a good impression in Brother Lirzod’s eyes. He went straight toward Boksa. “Brown Hill! I’m Limon the Lemon Licker. How about I lick the lemon out of you?” he unleashed his sizable fist into Boksa’s belly. “Lemon Licking Fist!”

A seemingly threatening punch pummeled into Boksa’s belly only to get fully absorbed as if it was nothing but a baby punch.

“That tickles...” Boksa glanced down at Limon, who himself was six-and-half-feet tall. “But I’m not in the mood for a lemonade. Besides, I don’t lick lemons. I squeeze them dry.” He grabbed Limon’s arm and pulled him closer before binding him in a formidable hug that reddened Limon’s face as he felt like all the bones in his body were on the verge of breaking. He couldn't even shout, and by the time Boksa let go of him, he felt like all the energy was sucked out of him, for he later crumbled to his knees and looked like a lifeless sheep.

Through the mic, the referee expressed himself in a sarcastic style, cocking his head weirdly, “This is what happens when a hippo tries to fight an elephant in shallow waters. It gets taught a life lesson, or should I say ‘a lemon lesson’ in this case?”

Many members among the audience cackled and broke into a burble upon hearing the referee’s words.

“How did Lemon Licker perish?”

“By drowning in his own lemon juice, haha.”

Most men pitilessly jeered at him, which Limon's ears heeded right before he passed out.

In that instant, the referee perceived that Boksa was chasing after Lirzod. After pondering for a moment, he continued, “We all know that it’s God who gives us food, but that doesn’t mean he’ll cook it and put it in our mouths. In the same way, he doesn’t put a sheep in a wolf's mouth. Does anyone have anything to say?” He pointed the mic in the directions of the audience.

“Yeah,” the crowd roared in response, “the wolf has to get the sheep or go starving!”

However, the audience had no idea that their words further aggravated Boksa’s temper. “Shut up, you bloody sheep!” he howled aloud, startling the audience and even some other contestants. Lirzod also momentarily stopped and gazed back. “I’ve had enough. Time to end this.” Breathing somewhat heavily, Boksa was staring right at Lirzod. “Mountain Roll!”

With a forward roll, he fell to the floor, dipping his whole body into the water at once and rolled like a cylinder, effortlessly pushing his way through the water while his massive frame crushed whatever ice spikes that greeted him. Cold rain showered on many contestants as water splashed all around in the vicinity of the shortest path he took to reach Lirzod.

“Crap! Brown Hill is coming this way!”

“He’s gone nuts!”

“Get out of his path, or you’ll get rolled over!”

Most contestants in the ice dumpster began to freak out, particularly the ones clashing in between Boksa and his current target.

Just as Boksa closed in on Lirzod at a great pace, Aziz, who had his hands placed on his back all this while, finally brought them forward and slipped them into the water. “First Flap of the Five—Hector’s Mist.”