Andrew followed up with three rapid palm strikes aimed directly at Jericho's head.
The latter was completely on the defensive, and one misstep sealed his fate. He was always a beat behind.
The Inferno Strikes came in a relentless volley. Jericho barely managed to block the first two. The third strike landed solidly on his shoulder, but only because he had desperately twisted his head away at the last second to protect his face.
The alternative would have been far worse.
"Jericho!" Kairo bellowed, charging at Andrew like a madman.
Andrew completely ignored the assault, letting Kairo's fist connect with his back.
While a Martial Saint was powerful, strength was all about context. To the current Andrew, a Martial Saint's attack was nothing worth worrying about. He grunted softly as the muscles in his back flexed and rippled, easily dispersing the force of the blow.
Kairo was horrified, realizing just how tough Andrew was.
Jericho had no time to draw his sword before Andrew's next flurry of attacks was right in his face. A fine sword was useless without the space to wield it, and he lacked Alfredo's ability to control a blade with his mind.
He was forced into a close-quarters brawl with Andrew.
Within moments, Andrew was spitting blood. However, Jericho was in a far worse state. His face was bruised and swollen, and he clutched his chest in agony.
Andrew's ferocity was simply overwhelming.
He launched a sweeping kick that connected with Jericho's head.
Jericho's eyes bulged wide. He pointed a trembling finger at Andrew, stammering, "Y-You…" before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.
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