Drunken Arhat Fist: Drunkenly Beating Lady Deathstrike
The Lady Deathstrike's long claws hovered in mid-air, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Having done this for so many years, I've assassinated at least eighty to a hundred targets.
But this was the first time she'd ever had someone stab her in the back and still have the nerve to urge her to drink!
Are they treating her like a VIP client?
She stared at the bottle of liquid for a couple more seconds.
Having seen plenty of dead people, this sudden appearance of a living person urging her to drink was too audacious; her processing power couldn't keep up for a moment.
Could this be some kind of new biological weapon?
"You don't want to drink it? That's great! I wouldn't even dare to drink this eight-year-aged wine myself; it would be a waste to give it to you."
The bottle cap popped up into the sky, Sing Sing tilted his head back and blew straight into the bottle.
He gulped down the liquor in one go, emphasizing that "it's all in the liquor," and the bottle of strong liquor was empty in the blink of an eye.
The spicy liquor trickled down his chin and into his collar as he exhaled a long breath.
The stench of alcohol and herbs rose high into the air, enough to make even the most venomous mosquitoes within a two-mile radius hallucinate on the spot.
Behind a large rock in the distance.
The Moon-Boy was dumbfounded, and kept muttering to himself while dragging the Devil Dinosaur along.
"Is Stephen planning to get himself drunk first? If he's drunk and gets stabbed, will it not hurt?"
The big guy grunted and exhaled a couple of breaths, then shook his head.
What is it that he doesn't understand this matter?
Anyway, whatever my Little Monkey says goes; this prehistoric creature has absolutely no desire to understand the mental state of modern people.
After consuming a large amount of alcohol, Sing Sing's body began to react.
The ten bloody holes on his waist were visibly slowing down, and a layer of tingling heat rose from the edges of the wounds.
His originally dirty face flushed red, and his eyes were clouded with a hazy, drunken look.
His whole body began to sway uncontrollably.
His legs were trembling, and it looked like he could fall asleep on the ground with a gust of wind, but he just wouldn't collapse.
"Playing tricks!"
The Lady Deathstrike, too lazy to ponder what tricks this drunkard was up to, unleashed all ten claws aimed straight for his heart.
Strange things are happening.
Sing Sing felt like he was walking on cotton; his body swayed and tilted, seemingly about to fall flat on his face, but he somehow managed to slide along the ground in a bizarre arc that defied Newton mechanics.
His body narrowly escaped, grazing the claws, and using the slippery momentum, he raised his hand.
"Smack!"
With a sharp crack, the drunkard Old Zhou slapped the Lady Deathstrike on the back of the head.
Sing Sing chuckled after letting out a burp.
"This slap will teach you a lesson: you have to give someone a heads-up before you stab them in the kidneys."
The Lady Deathstrike staggered half a step and suddenly turned around. The blow to the back of her head didn't hurt, but it was extremely humiliating.
With a backhand sweeping motion, Sing Sing dodged by tilting his head.
He leaned to the side, supporting himself on one foot while the other leg was raised.
With his arms outstretched, one in front of the other, he looked exactly like a dozing Arhat in a temple.
"Watch closely, the Drunken Arhat Fist, personally taught by Beggar Su, will open your eyes today!"
What happened next was unbelievable.
The drunkard's moves were completely haphazard, he staggered and couldn't even stand steadily, yet every crooked move he made landed right in the Lady Deathstrike spots, making her feel awkward all over.
He possessed a set of deadly skills capable of charging in and out of the battlefield seven times, yet he couldn't unleash even a fraction of their power.
The alloy claws missed by half an inch each time, while the drunkard's slaps seemed to have eyes, landing one after another on her face.
Still failed to tame it, so I'll blur it out.
The Lady Deathstrike refused to believe in superstition and increased her speed even further.
The ten claws scratched and clawed wildly, Sing Sing simply lay down on the muddy ground and fell asleep sprawled out. The claws missed their mark on his nose.
As she lay down, the drunken Old Zhou tripped and fell right into the back of her knee.
The Lady Deathstrike her balance and stumbled forward three or four steps, nearly falling.
The Moon-Boy behind the rock exclaimed with shining eyes, "Amazing! Stephen's become even more formidable after drinking too much!"
The Devil Dinosaur nodded vigorously, its tail wagging excitedly.
Snap, snap, snap!
With a series of sharp slaps, the Lady Deathstrike delivered several solid blows to both cheeks, leaving them burning with pain.
"Fuck! That's enough!"
Completely broken down, the Lady Deathstrike roared, "I'm going to slice you into sashimi!"
"Oh dear, why are you spouting nonsense with me? Do you want to compete with me in knife skills?"
With his eyes closed, Sing Sing yawned, stretched, and even scratched his belly.
"Trying to slice meat like an experienced butcher is like showing off your skills in front of an expert."
"Let me tell you... hiccup... this wine has been soaking for a full eight years, you can't buy it anywhere else even if you have the money..."
Sing Sing is all talk and no action, but his methods are increasingly ruthless.
Eye-poking, sweeping the face, elbow strike, groin strike...
Every move he makes is based on low-level tactics.
In the heat of the moment, he even puffed out his cheeks, pretending to spray the long-awaited filth onto her face.
The Lady Deathstrike felt physically nauseous at this despicable biochemical attack and instinctively turned to avoid the vomit that was about to come out.
As a result, the goal was wide open, and he was hit on the head with an empty bottle.
The eight-year-old glass bottle exploded on her forehead, scattering shards of glass everywhere.
This time, Lady Deathstrike was completely enraged. Her Assassin's Creed and tactical skills were all forgotten after those slaps and that old schemer's bottle.
Ignoring defenses, they charged forward with all their might, attempting to trade blows or perish together.
Sing Sing opened his drunken eyes, the slight confusion in them instantly dissipating. He twisted his waist and hips, his whole body pressed against the inside of her claw net and crashed in, a palm strike landing unexpectedly on her lower abdomen.
"Bang!"
The Lady Deathstrike spun through the air and flew away, crashing into two large trees in succession, her momentum still undiminished.
He crashed directly into the bushes and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
After delivering the first blow, Sing Sing let out a burp, then lay on the ground rubbing his lower back; the wound had stopped bleeding.
Her self-healing system was running at full speed. The Lady Deathstrike barely managed to prop herself up, her eyes filled with horror as she looked at the drunkard.
What kind of monster is this!?
Just then, a sonic boom exploded in mid-air.
A streamlined fighter jet nose-down, a streak of light shooting out from it and landing vertically.
The fighter jet quickly hovered in mid-air, and its side hatch popped out.
A gigantic, hairier black shadow than the Moon-Boy leaped out, smashing a large crater in the ground.
Alpha Flight's Beichen and Sasquatch arrived on the battlefield one after the other.
Just as the two official heroes landed, they saw the drunkard, whose suit was tattered into strips, lying comfortably in the mud, stretching out his limbs.
Opposite him, the infamous, Lady Deathstrike was rumored to kill without blinking an eye was sprawled on the ground, questioning the meaning of life.
Beichen remained in a half-squatting superhero landing posture, stunned for a full five seconds.
With a slight obsession with cleanliness, he tried to find a clean place to settle down, only to find that the entire scene could only be described as dirty and chaotic.
He slowly turned his head and looked at the Sasquatch beside him, which was also maintaining a majestic stance.
"Aren't we... a bit redundant?"
Sing Sing turned around at the sound, his drunken eyes still closed, and he slurred a gesture:
"You're here, bro? Your response time doesn't deserve a five-star rating!"