Without a broad enough view of the bigger picture, people often saw a battle as a series of duels. But Deathstroke had always treated the battlefield like a chessboard.
How to make use of timing, terrain, and popular support was also the crystallized wisdom of China's ancestors.
What determined whether a battle could end quickly was often a single feather on the scales, depending on which side it fell.
And in this encounter, the variable played an even more obvious role—because Zola herself was the scale.
Now, with Deathstroke, Dream of a Thousand Cats, and Zola, the World Will, merely stacking different concepts already gave them an overwhelming advantage over Yuga Khan.
Though battle was not simply a matter of comparing strength, Su Ming was not about to lose to some straightforward barbarian in terms of tactics.
Especially something like the World Will. Normally, it could neither be seen nor touched, but if it wanted someone to have bad luck, they could choke even while drinking cold water.
Zola dared trap Yuga Khan in her own world because she believed their strength was roughly equal. She only needed the tiniest, tiniest, tiniest bit of help to make victory more certain.
Now, Deathstroke was the assurance she wanted. Those who passed the six trials were originally qualified to receive the Power of Grayskull according to the rules.
The process of seeking the seeds had also been a review process.
Zola was the World Will, and she had her own rules to follow. But now, everyone who had passed the trials had given her the justification to openly grant them cheats.
Struck by the divine lightning, Deathstroke felt a little full. Zola truly hated Yuga Khan. She had bestowed far too much power—enough to make him want to burp.
In the blink