Come to think of it, being able to create mountains of corpses and seas of blood just by killing "two people" was a new version Su Ming had never played before.
In three minutes, Harley and he killed the angel duo nearly two hundred times. Their identical corpses had piled into ring-shaped hills in every direction, and their blood soaked the long-barren ground, seeping through the shattered asphalt into the dry soil below.
They were absurdly weak, but as God's weapons, they were indeed qualified. That infinite "release—corpse run" alone had plenty of potential.
Su Ming even wondered if he had become some sort of game boss, with these two players trying to grind him down by piling up lives.
Unfortunately, times had changed. Their strategy might have been very effective a thousand years ago, but humans had guns now.
Bang!
Another gunshot rang out. The two angels who had just climbed onto the corpse pile burst blood from their foreheads and rolled down the slope with a gurgling tumble. Yet another pair immediately leaped out from the bushes behind Deathstroke and charged again.
Deathstroke's cloak spread behind him like wings as his black-and-yellow armor slowly rose into the air. After calmly killing them once more, the Mercenary called out to the duo running from behind the dead trees.
"Have you two not died enough? How about considering a deal?"
"No. We will exhaust you to death." The fat man shouted, expressionless as a running corpse. "Heaven will not submit to coercion, nor will it negotiate terms with mortals."
"That's right. Even if we can't tire you to death, we'll annoy you to death." The skinny man added, charging forward shoulder to shoulder with his good brother again. "Surrender, mortal. My Lord will forgive your soul."
Deathstroke sighed and pulled