When Art first arrived at the rest seat, it happened that the mercenary registration office began to report the number, only to see the man behind the counter of the mercenary registration office looking down at the booklet in his hand, pulling his neck and shouting.

"No. 159!" The man's voice was not ordinarily loud, a shout, and even the eardrums of Yatt were a little painful, although the man's voice was a little rough, but in Yat's ears it was unusually beautiful.

His number is 172, doesn't that mean that there are 13 more people who will be their turn, and now it is only seven o'clock in the morning, and the composition of 159 people has been completed, so it can be seen that the registration procedures will not be too complicated, and it is estimated that it will be their turn in more than ten minutes.

As Art expected, just a minute later, the man shouted again: "Number 160!"

In this way, a number was called every minute, and after more than ten minutes in a row, it soon arrived at Yate.

"Number 172!" the man shouted the number on the number plate in Art's hand in a somewhat hoarse voice, and Art trotted to the counter.

In a few seconds, Art came to the counter and gently rested his chin on the counter, while the man was looking down at the booklet in his hand.

"Hello, I'm here to register as a mercenary. Art leaned on the counter and handed the numbered plate in his hand to the man who was reading the booklet at the mercenary registry.

Hearing Art's somewhat immature voice, the man who was bowing his head raised his head suddenly, and then Art could see the man's appearance.

There was a hint of gloom between the man's eyebrows, and his face was snarky, not good at first glance, and it was completely two extremes from the woman in the previous rank, although this man didn't look easy to mess with, but Art clearly felt that this man's cultivation was not as high as that woman, probably only in the early stage of the second order.

"Registered mercenary? Is it just you? Do you think a mercenary can be a stinky sweet potato and rotten bird egg?" The man looked Yat up and down, and after seeing Art's appearance, he couldn't help but smile contemptuously.

"Hmph. Listening to the man's caustic words, Art let out two cold snorts, only to feel that he was about to explode.

"It's really worthy of this mean face. Art's face immediately turned cold, and with a cold snort, the whole air seemed to freeze, and the surroundings were quiet, and the people around looked at Art in disbelief.

The man was also stunned, and then he was furious, a boy who looked only sixteen or seventeen years old dared to contradict him?!

"Damn!" the man roared, and without saying a word, he rounded his mouth and slammed it straight into Art's cheek.

Art's eyes were even colder, and Art noticed that in the man's hand, there was a spiritual power churning, and the strength of the spiritual power rolling was the early stage of the second order, which meant that the man was now attacking with all his strength and wanted to kill him!

However, before Arter could get closer, a black shadow quickly headed towards his arm, and the man saw that it was Art's arm heading towards him.

"Look for death!" the man smirked, as if he had seen his palm break Art's hand bones and burst Art's skull, he didn't think that a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy could block his full blow.

Before the man could react, his hand was grabbed by Art's hand.

"Let go!" said the man, startled, and leaned back vigorously to pull his arm out. However, the arm seemed to be pinched by a vice, and it did not move.

How is this possible?! The man's heart set off a violent wave, how could he be caught by a teenager with ten layers of skill in this palm? At the same time as he was shocked, the man had an ominous premonition that floated into his heart.

"How could it be, so ruthless, cut off your arm!" Art sneered, raised his other hand high, clenched it tightly into a fist, and smashed it into the man's arm.

There was a crisp "click", and the man's arm broke in response, and the hand, palm up, flipped over.

"Ah......h

Although Yate's behavior was a little cold, but Yate did not have the slightest softness and sympathy, after all, it was the man who struck first, if it was replaced by an ordinary fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy, he would have been shot to death a long time ago, even a first-order professional would be killed under this palm, and only a first-order Great Perfection or a first-order Great Perfection or above could withstand this palm.

For such a vicious person, there is naturally no need for Yate to show mercy.

"How dare you cut off my hand?!" the man screamed, his whole body bowed like a shrimp in severe pain, and his whole body was soaked with cold sweat.

The people around were also very shocked, and then scattered and fled, for this man, everyone present was no stranger.

This man, named Kafari, is the grandson of the second elder of the Cold Moon City Branch of the Mercenary Union, and he has a very large background in this Cold Moon City, relying on his background to get a position in the Mercenary Union, so even if he is usually arrogant and domineering, no one dares to provoke him, and now he has been cut off by a teenager, if he doesn't slip away, in case he is angered by the second elder, it will be quite bad

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