Amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood, Su Ming merged Godslayer into a giant sword and drove it into the back of the Duke beneath his foot, watching the life leave the man's body.
Only then did he twist the hilt to widen the wound. He then put away his weapon, stood atop the pile of corpses, and looked up at the sky.
The heads flung high into the air and the rain of blood finally began to fall, instantly dyeing his armor crimson.
It had been too fast. From the first Duke's death to the last Duke's demise, it had taken barely over three seconds. The utterly practiced killing techniques made Bobo, who had only just escaped the gallows, swallow hard.
If someone like Deathstroke wasn't fit to be the Sorcerer Supreme, then who was? The way he killed mages looked like Colonel Sanders' high-tech chicken-slaughtering assembly line.
Simple, efficient, lethal.
Perhaps his usual nonsense and joking around made him seem easy to get along with, but when he showed this other side of himself, Bobo knew that he was still Deathstroke—the top assassin who treated human lives like grass.
Perhaps many people only remembered the terror of the man standing in the rain once the blood rain began to fall, but by then it was already too late, just like these dead Dukes.
Bobo did not hate them. Though they had wanted to kill him, the miserable state of their mangled remains was enough to erase everything.
They had all kicked the bucket. Aside from the identifiable heads that had just hit the ground, their bodies had been destroyed beyond recognition, too horrible to look at.
Detective Chimp pulled a flask from his suit, tipped his head back, and took a swig. Breathing in the pungent stench