Neither militiaman expected the drunk before them to suddenly lash out, but seeing their companion fall did nothing to make them more vigilant. They still treated Kill la Kill Boy as an ordinary drunk, just the sort of drunk who became lawless after drinking too much. There were plenty of people like that in Pripyat; after downing a bottle of vodka, they no longer knew their limits.
The two militiamen decided they needed to help the drunk correct his bad habits. They set their disinfection equipment on the ground and rushed toward Kill la Kill Boy to surround him. However, he moved far faster than they did. Before the two militiamen could complete their encirclement, Kill la Kill Boy had already crouched low and bent his knees, then darted in front of one of them like a hunting dog.
Kill la Kill Boy seemed to use moves similar to Muay Thai in close combat. Zhang Heng did not know whether he had trained in a dungeon or in real life, but it was clear that he had put considerable effort into it.
The militiaman before him had received some military training, but he was clearly unable to withstand such a storm of punches. If he had not been so burly, he probably would not have survived even the first round of attacks. Even so, he did not last much longer than his companion who had been struck in the head with a bottle. A kick landed in his abdomen, sending him tumbling backward.
Only then did the third militiaman rush forward.
Kill la Kill Boy had not expected his luck to be so good this time. His first sneak attack had succeeded, and the other two had reacted too slowly. Like brothers lining up one after another to rescue their