"Ah! Damn it! You hurt my noble body!"
"Ah! Foolish little brother! How did you become so strong?!"
"Ah! My hand is about to break!"
If anyone unaware of the truth saw this scene, they would probably think Apollo was beating First Born senseless. The radiant, righteous-looking one wore a proud and triumphant smile, while the one who looked like a villain was in a terrible state.
One moment, he was spitting blood in this direction; the next, even his eyeballs were being knocked out. The entire god seemed like an aerial acrobat, flapping his wings as he constantly dodged.
The grass, the river, the piles of rocks—everywhere bore traces of his misery. His life was like a candle guttering in the wind.
"My dear brother, stop fighting. Hurry up and surrender."
Apollo clearly thought so too. The more he fought, the happier he became, grinning broadly as he called out to First Born.
But as usual with gods, his words did not match his actions. His attacks never stopped.
The golden lyre wreathed in flame was like a laser-firing heavy machine gun in his hands. As his fingers continuously plucked the strings, dense streams of fire shot out alongside the music.
If he had not been busy talking, Apollo would probably have started singing by now—some little shepherd's tune in yodeling style.
Watching his smug expression, Su Ming acted as though he were fleeing in embarrassment while calculating the time in his head.
After all, if he wanted to make it look like a hard-won victory, he could not end things too quickly.
Fortunately, the time was about right. He no longer had to look at that hypocritical god's face, though the flames made it hard to see clearly anyway.
"Ah!!! You dare mock me? I'll kill you!"
After