radicalducati Chapter 102 The Final Act
Chapter 102 The Final Act
Chapter 102 The Final Act (Part 4)
During his recovery period, Deathstroke was very weak. With most of his energy used to treat his wounds, his punches and kicks became limp and powerless, and his head felt like it had plunged into a vat of wine, bubbling and drowsy.
But don't assume that this will make him refuse a duel from a real man, especially when an equally murderous opponent stands before him.
He was so happy he felt like he could fly!
"Need a weapon? I can lend you one!"
He pulled out the telescopic baton from his waist and threw it at Qin Wei's feet, then unfastened the long sword from his back, keeping only a wakizashi.
"I really wanted to pick it up, but my mom said I shouldn't accept things from strangers."
Qin Wei lowered an iron pipe from the railing.
"bring it on!"
The battle began with Deathstroke's lunge slash, followed by sweeping strikes, horizontal slashes, and diagonal cuts, with the two sides' weapons clashing dozens of times in just a few seconds.
Flying metal shavings, fleeting sparks, ear-piercing friction sounds, and heavy breathing.
Two figures moved through the dilapidated factory, with a crumbling ceiling overhead and fine dust swirling around them in the moonlight.
Compared to the clumsy stick fighting, what really caused the wounded Zhong a lot of trouble was Qin Wei's kicking skills. His fast, heavy, and unpredictable kicks indiscriminately struck the calves, waist, abdomen, and head.
At first, Deathstroke was able to delay his opponent's counterattack with his fierce offensive, but gradually his muscles became sore and weak from the repeated kicks and punches, and his hand holding the knife was so painful that he could not lift it.
In addition, her self-healing ability is constantly draining the energy from her body, and Lady Luck has already flapped her wings, attempting to leave this unfortunate man.
Talia's three-day temporary guidance was a great help, and Qin Wei's three million was truly spent wisely.
Deathstroke thrust again, this time completely abandoning defense, intending to exchange injury for injury, the tip of the blade piercing Qin Wei's chest.
puff!
Qin Wei did not choose to dodge, but opened his hand and commanded the blade to pierce through his palm. He also grabbed the wakizashi bell, along with the hand holding the sword, Deathstroke.
"Got you!"
The rusted steel pipe swung down on the head of the bell.
Now it's Slade's turn to choose: to discard his knife or have his head smashed open with a stick?
Instinct told him he couldn't take the blow head-on, but abandoning his knife meant losing his dignity and honor as a mercenary.
Deathstroke raised his arm, secretly resolving that even if his entire arm were broken, he would never willingly discard his sword.
But once he raised his hand, his weak abdominal defenses were exposed to Qin Wei's view.
Qin Wei had been waiting for this moment.
In an instant, he changed his move, raising his knee and twisting his arm, delivering a powerful side kick that struck Slade squarely in the abdomen.
In terms of fighting skills, Deathstroke has the advantage, but due to the limitations of his healing ability, his strength and speed are currently far inferior to his opponent's. Any technical advantage will be rendered useless by the significant physical disparity.
Qin Wei, who saw through his opponent's weakness, had a simple idea: to further expand this advantage, he had to worsen Deathstroke's injuries.
So with this kick, he sent his opponent flying to the corner of the fourth floor, a place where anti-personnel bounding mines were laid.
But how could a seasoned mercenary not see the situation?
In close combat, the opponent clearly had the upper hand, but now, contrary to his usual behavior, he's creating distance. And considering those tripwire grenades...
Deathstroke immediately understood what awaited him behind him.
He grabbed the iron pillar beside him and struggled to stop his backward steps; his heel was only one step away from stepping on a landmine.
Before Qin Wei could give chase, Deathstroke vaulted over the railing and disappeared into the darkness.
Deathstroke, unusually, chose to avoid war.
The healing wound squeezed out the shrapnel inside his body. Slade wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, estimating that he would be able to attack at full strength in about two more minutes.
However, his overuse of his self-healing ability made him somewhat unable to control his murderous intent.
The aftereffects of genetic modification were becoming increasingly apparent, which explained why he became a mercenary and adhered so strictly to the code. He wanted to unleash his killing intent, yet he didn't want his mind to be corrupted.
"After this battle is over, I need to go back to the Black Forest Bar and find some work. Any kind of work is fine, as long as I can kill people."
Slade muttered, but the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.
His keen sixth sense allowed him to perceive a strong hostility emanating from the air, a hostility so powerful that it even reminded him of a man wearing a tiger-head mask.
But unlike that righteous aura, this hostility was deep and evil; Deathstroke almost smelled a stench!
Boom!
The next instant, a dark figure flashed past as it tore through the metal factory building, a huge cloak enveloping Deathstroke.
Boom!
A sudden, heavy punch ripped the mask off, leaving his face covered in blood, but Deathstroke let out a broken, maniacal laugh from deep within his throat.
He didn't care who the visitor was.
He is about to recover, and Qin Wei upstairs is no longer a threat. Only a formidable enemy like him can fully unleash his killing intent.
Slade raised his elbows to block the attack while unleashing a barrage of short, quick punches into the attacker's chest. To his surprise, the opponent's body remained unmoved, like a mountain, despite the repeated blows.
He roughly knew the other party's weight.
"That's more like it. Don't die so easily!"
Turning an elbow into a palm strike and a knee strike to the underarm, Slade slipped between the attacker's legs, grabbed his cloak, and leaped high into the air. With a mid-air backflip, he clamped his legs around the attacker's neck and twisted his hips in a twisting motion.
Kama!
A chilling sound of bones breaking echoed from the other person's neck, but what was truly terrifying was that this uninvited guest seemed impossible to kill, and one couldn't even utter a single mournful cry from his mouth.
Qin Wei, who was on the rooftop, witnessed the battle and recognized the uninvited guest as the fake bat that had caused him a lot of trouble more than a month ago.
Compared to before, this fake bat was much larger, and Deathstroke looked like a child in front of this monster that was over seven feet tall.
The child's series of moves could only be described as ruthless.
Groin strikes, eye gouges, throat hits—compared to the meticulous hand-to-hand combat depicted in American TV shows, Deathstroke is now showcasing the efficient methods of a real-life mercenary.
An art called murder.
The fake bat that withstood this series of deadly attacks was even more terrifying; not only did it not die, but its counterattack became even more rapid.
The clown was absolutely right. This fake bat could no longer be considered a perfect human. Having lost its agility, not only had its punches become slower, but it could no longer perform its original exquisite jujitsu. Yet, even a simple punch or kick could unleash a howling hurricane.
He is not human; he is a monster.
Qin Wei witnessed the duel between the two monsters.
Boom! A loud explosion.
The fake bat bent a steel pillar with a punch, but Deathstroke easily dodged it, jumped up, turned around, and delivered a high sweep to the head. Taking advantage of the opponent's retreat, he rushed forward and launched an attack, delivering a low sweep to the leg and a mid-section kick to knock the opponent back. Then, he immediately followed up with a Superman punch that struck the throat.
Deathstroke's fighting strategy was very clear: if his punches weren't powerful enough to break through defenses, he would use his more powerful legs.
First, strike until the target is stunned, then deliver a powerful punch to a vital point.
After a brief period of being suppressed by a sneak attack, Deathstroke has now completely regained the initiative.
Even empty-handed, he could never lose again.