The old man before them was the very one Deathstroke had seen not long ago—the one lying on a hospital bed, on his last breath, yet still thinking of fighting for glory in his final moments.
With a burst of strength from his arms, Su Ming shoved with both hands, sending The Serpent stumbling back dozens of meters against his will.
The Golden Light faded, and black snow began drifting down from the sky once more. His black-and-yellow armor seemed even colder than the snow itself, while his red single-lens eyepiece fixed on The Serpent's eyes.
Surprise showed on The Serpent's face. He subtly flexed his wrist and called across the plaza, now reduced to a massive crater, "I have observed you for many years, Sorcerer Supreme. You cannot possibly possess such strength!"
"Heh. I had spinach for dinner."
Deathstroke merely cracked a joke, then flew over the crater on his own initiative. He swung his weapon in a sweeping strike, and the silver edge of the Nightfall Greatsword formed a silver halo that spread through the air like ripples on water.
There was no need to answer an enemy's questions. Even if he told The Serpent that Strangle had eaten things like the Chicken-Ox Beast, the Black Sword, and Perpetua, the man would not understand, would he?
Besides, Su Ming simply preferred using his brain to solve problems. That did not mean his ordinary combat strength was lacking. He might not be able to wrestle with the Original Beyonder, but enduring an attack at the level of a Single Universe was effortless enough.
Rather than retreating from Deathstroke's attack, The Serpent advanced. As he took a slash from the sword, he returned it with an axe blow at Su Ming.
A gaping hole opened in his chest, his heart