Invincible to My Background Music

Bang, bang, bang…

Steve punched the sandbag repeatedly.

Each punch let out a deafening sound.

Beside him, Howard, who was recording the data with instruments, looked at the numbers displayed on the screen and was greatly shocked.

"Nine times the physical fitness growth, far exceeding the five times of the original serum."

Howard said in disbelief, "How did Allen do it?"

What's more, Steve had been hitting the sandbag for half an hour and showed no signs of fatigue.

His super endurance was enough to support long-distance combat, completely crushing Dr. Erskine's super serum.

"This is terrifying, it's completely comparable to the demigod heroes in myths and legends."

Carter, as an agent who had undergone physical enhancement training, knew very well what nine times the physique and super endurance meant.

With just some combat training, it wasn't simply a matter of one against nine, but one against a hundred, or even a thousand.

Currently, in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agent ranking system, even the highest-ranked Agent Dum Dum Dugan would take a long time to recover after taking one punch.

"Steve hasn't reached his limit yet. With his adaptation and growth period, I estimate it will take at least three months. At that time, his physical fitness will conservatively be fifteen times higher, and his neural and cognitive abilities will also increase proportionally."

Howard's shock was immeasurable. At the same time, he was glad that Allen didn't have the materials to create more serum.

These superhumans, once the war ended and they entered society, would pose a significant hidden danger. If they went astray, the consequences were unimaginable.

Allen admitted that he couldn't make serum like the Serpent's Blood anymore.

Firstly, he didn't make super serum; he had only improved upon the existing foundation.

"Old man's son, your father is here to see you."

Allen carried an old-fashioned tape recorder and walked up to Steve, saying profoundly, "Sandbags are dead, people are alive. You need to fight with your brain."

Steve stopped hitting the sandbag and looked at him with confusion. "You know combat?"

"Swish EZ."

Allen put down the tape recorder and said, "I'll pick a hot-blooded BGM first."

He pressed the play button, and music started playing.

Allen frowned slightly and decisively switched the song.

"This doesn't feel right."

"It's not what I like."

"This heavy metal is too much."

"I like agricultural heavy metal."

After switching back and forth more than ten times, the music styles of the current era couldn't catch Allen's eye.

"Damn it."

Annoyed, Allen kicked the tape recorder away, looking contemptuous. "What taste. It's not even as pleasant as my diarrhea music."

It was evident that Allen's mental state was very unstable.

Howard and Carter watched his performance quietly.

"Allen, stop messing around. I'm afraid I'll hurt you," Steve said worriedly.

"The kid is quite arrogant."

Allen's eyes widened, and he said coldly, "You're the first person to say you're afraid of hurting me."

"Deng deng deng… Come on, baby, I'm the man who comes with his own BGM."

Suddenly, Allen got into character. His legs moved back and forth like a tango dancer, and his head dodged left and right so fast it was hard to see his face, while his torso remained completely still.

"Deng deng deng… Pretty boy, make your move."

"Deng deng deng… Seeing my speed, aren't you scared?"

Steve understood that if he didn't play along for a bit, Allen might not let it go.

"Be careful."

With that, Steve controlled his strength and threw a punch, worried he might knock Allen dead.

A seemingly ordinary punch naturally couldn't touch Allen.

"Deng deng deng… Perky pretty boy, haven't you eaten? Do you want your cute punches to kill the enemy?"

"Deng deng deng… I guess you're here to be funny. Did you learn from Master Kim?"

"Deng deng deng… The super serum inflated your muscles, but atrophied your kidneys, resulting in weak, soft punches…"

Allen hadn't made a move yet, but his mouth was non-stop.

Even a mud person has some temper, and Steve gradually increased the power of his punches.

However, he never managed to hit Allen, as if he could predict the trajectory of his punches in advance.

Howard and Carter, watching from the sidelines, were both amazed by Allen's agility, and couldn't help but sigh at how abnormal even the mentally ill were nowadays.

Steve had long since abandoned any underestimation and was going all out, taking it seriously.

He threw punches that landed on empty air, using all ten percent of his strength, and his breathing began to quicken.

In contrast, Allen hummed to some BGM, shaking his head, showing no signs of decreased stamina.

"Ding ding ding... Kid, your old man is giving you your first lesson: when you can't beat the enemy, use a gun to decide the winner."

So reasonable.

Within ten paces, bullets are fast and accurate.

"Ding ding ding... Kid, your old man is giving you your second lesson: in a stalemate, psychological attacks are very effective. For example, 'You sissy, haven't you eaten? Did you jerk off too much last night? I think you should be in the elderly ash group, and when you eat, remember to sit at the kids' table. No wonder your wife complained last night that you're no good...'"

"Ding ding ding... Kid, your old man is giving you your third lesson: if none of the above works, immediately rally the crowd for a beatdown. Do despicable things in the name of justice."

Unfortunately, Steve was focused on his punches and didn't have the mind to pay much attention to anything else.

The refined Howard wasn't interested in the fighting itself, but was calculating Allen's various physical qualities.

Only Carter was pondering the meaning of the three sentences, suddenly feeling enlightened.

In summary, not using a gun is stupid, trash talk during a fight can disrupt the opponent, and if you can gang up, never fight one-on-one.

"Allen!"

"Huh?"

At this moment, Wilson ran into the training room.

Upon hearing someone call his name, Allen instinctively responded and looked over.

Puff...

The next second, Steve's fist slammed into Allen's face.

Instantly, he was sent flying horizontally like an arrow.

Bang!

Allen's entire head was embedded in the wall.

"Someone's going to die, hurry and save him."

Howard quickly went to check the situation.

If Allen were to be punched to death, it would be a huge problem.

Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey...

"I was careless, I didn't dodge."

Allen pulled his head out of the wall, brushed the dust off his hair, showing no signs of injury.

Steve, having regained his composure, asked with concern, "Allen, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, my brain has always been a problem. I won't extort you."

Allen flicked his hair, saying confidently, "I feel more energetic than before."

Howard looked him up and down and asked cautiously, "Allen, can I study your body?"

Upon hearing this, Allen took a step back, clasped his chest with both hands, and said vigilantly, "Ooh ooh ooh... Old Howard, you really covet my proud physique."

"Stop fooling around, the military is here to inspect the latest research results."

Wilson was genuinely anxious. As Allen's assistant, he knew how insane the mentally ill could be.

"Finally, it's time for me to show off my talent."

Allen looked at Wilson triumphantly and instructed, "I'll bring my top ten inventions."

Wilson looked hesitant, "Are you really going to do that?"

Were those really his top ten inventions?

The military might see them and immediately withdraw their funding.

"Everything is under control."