From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 310

Chapter 310: Crumbling Command

While Aron and Na’s clash raged on, most of the Rejected Corps still believed they had a good chance of turning this battle in their favor.

The reason was simple: they weren’t just random thugs. They were trained. Every one of them had once been molded by the military. They had drilled tactics, they knew how to fight in groups, and they were used to covering each other’s backs in battle. In tougher fights, they could deploy formations and strategies that had once given them an edge over almost any opponent.

But all of that had become useless. And there was a very clear reason why.

There was no one left to lead them.

The Rejected Corps wasn’t a unified army, it was a patchwork, a group cobbled together from soldiers who had been discarded from different branches of service. Each had been rejected, cast out for one reason or another, and while they could be dangerous when gathered under strong leadership, they fractured without it.

Sometimes Na, or Dud, or Chrono could bring them together. But today? Na was locked in a fight with Aron. Dud wasn’t even present. And Chrono was far too occupied with Max.

The result was chaos.

Different members tried to take command in their own corners of the battlefield, shouting orders and demanding the others follow them. Instead of obedience, they were met with smirks, scoffs, and outright defiance. Their rebellious natures clashed, each one convinced they knew better than the next.

And worse, they still believed their enemies were "just" high school kids.

That arrogance was costing them dearly.

The Bloodline Group’s students outnumbered them from the beginning. But more importantly, the students were working as a single, unified unit. Meanwhile, the Rejected Corps and Chalkline Boys had only joined forces that very day. Their uneasy alliance was already crumbling before it could even begin.

"Hey, watch where you’re swinging that thing!" one of the Rejected Corps members barked.

"Why don’t you take your fight somewhere else!" a Chalkline boy snapped back, his voice cracking with rage.

Their insults rose above the clash of weapons, the disarray pulling them further apart.

In the midst of this, Print found himself trading blows with one of the Chalkline Boys. The boy snarled and swung a heavy meat cleaver, the blade whistling through the air. Print’s hands shot out, seizing his opponent’s forearm and shoving it aside.

"Hey guys, let me take care of this one!" Print called out.

At his words, the other students eased back, shifting to help their allies elsewhere while Print handled the fight alone.

The cleaver swung again. Print twisted his body just in time, slipping past the strike. The blade carved empty air, missing its target completely. Another swing followed, then another, each dodged with just enough movement.

Print’s eyes flicked to his sides, always aware, always keeping his footing sharp. He could feel the rhythm of the fight settling in his favor.

"Come on," he taunted, a grin spreading across his face. "You’re not going to do anything swinging like that. I’ll block you all day."

To drive the point home, he gestured mockingly with his fingers, then stuck his tongue out.

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