The 374-RPM Kylin Arm

Russell's scream was incomparably shrill. If that cry had suddenly rung out in the middle of the night, it could have scared someone to death. But in truth, he hadn't been shot. It was the Bearded Man's corpse, which he was holding up in front of him.

Although Big Slick was deaf, blind, dizzy, and unable to maintain his balance, he still had a gun. Aside from being unable to fire curving bullets, it remained plenty lethal.

Russell needed to empty the Beretta 92F's magazine. To make it look more convincing, he used the Bearded Man's corpse to block the shots.

There was no disrespect toward the dead. Russell was a fine young man raised on five thousand years of traditional culture. Before hoisting up the Bearded Man's corpse, he had discussed it with him.

The Bearded Man hadn't said a word. Russell figured he was probably just shy and took it as consent.

Bang! Bang!

"Ah! It's broken... My 374-RPM Kylin Arm! It's broken!"

Bang! Bang!

"Ah—"

"Mine! My...!!!!"

Russell didn't care whether Big Slick could hear him. His instincts told him Big Slick could sense it. So he hid behind the pillar and wailed his heart out, making himself sound as hard-working and miserable as possible.

Big Slick was no pushover either. After several shots, he realized Russell had played him and refused to fire so readily again.

The Beretta 92F's standard magazine held fifteen rounds. Big Slick had used an extended magazine with twenty rounds, but thanks to Russell's interference, he only had two bullets left.

Worst of all, Big Slick had been too full of himself to bring a spare magazine. The old flintlock pistol was something he had modified himself, designed specifically to penetrate armor. It was immensely powerful, but painfully slow to reload. If those two bullets failed to finish Russell, he could only resort to hand-to-hand combat.

The thought of fighting an enemy at close range while under the Flashbangs' negative debuff thrilled Big Slick. Therefore, he wouldn't fire his final two bullets without absolute certainty. If Russell wouldn't come out, he would wait him out—preferably until the debuff wore off.

Behind the concrete pillar, Russell knew that the longer he stalled, the more time Big Slick would have to recover. The Character Card's duration was limited too, so he couldn't afford to drag this out.

Russell gave the Bearded Man a look. The other man's corpse remained silent, but its meaning had been conveyed loud and clear. Russell understood, carefully propping the Bearded Man's corpse in front of himself as a shield before stepping out from behind the concrete pillar.

Bang!

As if sensing something, Big Slick raised his hand and fired. The bullet struck the Bearded Man squarely in the chest. A 9mm pistol round had excellent stopping power but poor penetration, and it ultimately lodged inside the Bearded Man's body.

Russell had equipped the Subway Police Character Card and knew that perfectly well, so he wasn't worried about the bullet passing through the Bearded Man and hitting him.

Big Slick forced his eyes open. Everything before him was a sheet of white, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face. He could vaguely make out a gray, blurry figure approaching, but he didn't dare fire. Enduring the lingering dizziness, he silently calculated the distance between himself and Russell. After taking a deep breath, his heartbeat instantly rose past four hundred beats per minute.

The world slowed in his perception. Though his condition was terrible, he still fired his final bullet. He was certain this shot would hit.

Bang!

After the gunshot, the sound of two bodies hitting the ground rang out at once. Only then did Big Slick let out a relieved breath. He immediately withdrew from the so-called Bullet Time state. Unlike Cross and his son, he had gained this ability through training and couldn't sustain it for long, or his heart would fail and kill him.

Just as Big Slick marveled at how close he had come to capsizing in a ditch, a fierce gust of wind suddenly struck him. His face took a heavy blow, his nose bridge caved in, and he fell backward to the ground.

Russell knocked Big Slick down with a straight punch, stepped forward, and followed with a hard kick to his face. The nose was one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body; a heavy blow there could instantly rob someone of their fighting ability through sheer pain.

Russell's two-hit combo left Big Slick dazed. Then he kicked Big Slick's hand. That kick was a little too hard, sending the Beretta 92F flying over the railing in a spectacular high-altitude drop.

Behind Russell, the Bearded Man's corpse was pressed atop Goggles' corpse. That was right—Russell had crouched out carrying two corpses. He was taking advantage of the fact that Big Slick couldn't see or hear.

Big Slick let out a miserable scream filled with rage, like a beast preparing for one last counterattack before death. Russell didn't dare get close. He turned, picked up the assault rifle from the ground, and swung it like a club into the side of Big Slick's face.

Big Slick's face became a bloody mess, several bloodied teeth flying out. He fell facedown and scrambled forward, then shakily rose beside the concrete railing and pulled out the old flintlock pistol from the back of his waistband.

Without a ball loaded, the flintlock was little more than a fire poker. Russell swung the rifle again and knocked the flintlock straight out of Big Slick's hand.

Big Slick was strong, but Russell wasn't weak either. Both guns flew from their hands at the same time.

The next second, Big Slick let out a low roar, opened his blood-and-tear-filled eyes, and lunged at Russell. Pain had suppressed the dizziness in his head. Though he still couldn't hear, some of his vision had returned—at least enough to distinguish Russell's position.

With the Subway Police Character Card equipped, Russell's fighting ability had shot through the roof. The Grappling Combat he had learned at the police academy was nowhere near the Delta Force's military combat techniques designed for killing, but even though his physical attributes hadn't improved, his combat power had undeniably risen by a level.

Big Slick's vision was still blurry, and his reactions were a little sluggish. Russell's nimble footwork dodged him repeatedly before Big Slick suffered another brutal beating. Finally, a kick struck his temple, and he only barely kept his balance by leaning against the concrete railing.

Big Slick knew that if he didn't do something now, he was truly finished. Enduring the pain of his heart being torn apart, he entered Bullet Time for the third time.

Bang bang bang!

Adrenaline surged through his body, and his heartbeat accelerated madly. Big Slick's vision gradually cleared. He was still swaying somewhat, but it was no longer a serious problem.

With every second counting, Big Slick didn't waste time making threats. He stomped the ground and shot forward like a whirlwind, kicking up dust as he raised his right fist and drove it at Russell's temple.

In Bullet Time, Big Slick's speed, strength, and neural reflexes reached absurd levels. Russell raised an arm to block with his Sixth Sense, only to be sent flying by the punch.

A sharp pain shot through his blocking arm. Russell curled up in midair, desperately protecting the vulnerable parts of his body. That instinctive move saved him again as Big Slick followed up by kicking him into the ground.

It hurt badly. His muscles and tissues were bruised, but no tendons or bones had been damaged.

Seeing Big Slick's side kick coming at him, Russell advanced instead of retreating. He lunged into Big Slick's arms and drove his elbow into his heart.

Ding! The Host has broken through his mental limit. Intelligence +1. Current attribute: 10 (9+1).

Russell didn't hear the system notification. He only knew that his reaction speed had become faster and his ability to predict attacks more precise. His speed and strength were inferior to Big Slick's, but his predictive ability let him evade Big Slick's killing moves one step ahead of time.

His elbow struck Big Slick's heart. By a strange twist of fate, it forced him out of Bullet Time. Big Slick staggered back two steps, his face showing not only pain but also disbelief.

"You... Could it be that you too...?"

Russell didn't care what Big Slick was saying. After smashing him away with his elbow, his momentum stopped. Having exerted too much force, his foot slipped and his body pitched forward. Russell didn't stop to regain his balance. Following through with the fall, he launched a surprise attack.

His target was the space between Big Slick's legs. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. This wasn't a sparring match—it was a fight to the death. Naturally, he would strike wherever was fatal.

When it came to elbows, he used elbows!

Russell drove his elbow in, and it hit immediately. Caught off guard, Big Slick's eyes bulged from the despicable, shameless, and filthy hooligan move. Seeing him kneel with his legs clamped together and his knees turned inward, it was clear that even taking a piss would be difficult for him in the future.

A light hit brought unbearable pain and immediate collapse. A heavy hit meant agony beyond death and instant croaking.

After taking that blow, Big Slick's eyes had gone unfocused. Drool streamed from the corner of his mouth, and he let out unconscious whimpers.

Russell had no intention of showing mercy. He circled behind Big Slick, hooked an arm around his neck, and twisted hard.

With a crack, Big Slick fell to the ground. Aside from the twitching of his limbs, he made no further movements...

Failure Diary

Didn't feel like writing today, so I'll leave it for tomorrow. Maybe I'll get lucky tomorrow and it'll be 404'd, then I won't have to write it!