Qingxiao's fist was only halfway out when those words made his movement pause almost imperceptibly for 0.1 seconds.
Sweet?
Sweet, my ass.
He bristled inwardly on the spot, his brow jerking upward, but none of it showed on his face.
Grown men should just fight. Why make it sound so disgusting?
Despite his inward grumbling, he added another twenty percent to the force of his blows.
The sharp crackle of muscles and bones traveled down his shoulder and arm to his knuckles. Qingxiao lowered his center of gravity and twisted, his fists abruptly accelerating.
An impenetrable flurry of punches bored through the gaps in Ryu Ishigori's guard, each blow heavier than the last.
You want sweet?
I'll give you all you can take.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The impacts suddenly came thick and fast, like heavy hammers pounding an anvil.
Ryu Ishigori felt the force coming at him suddenly surge. Every punch he blocked felt as though it brought the bones in his forearms a little closer to cracking.
He wanted to put some distance between them, but Qingxiao clung to him like a deep-rooted infection, his footwork glued to Ishigori's, always within half an arm's reach. He did not even leave him an opening to raise his hand and gather Cursed Energy.
Frustrating.
So damn frustrating!
He had thought this would be an exhilarating battle against an equal. Instead, once his opponent got serious, he did not even have room to fight back.
As they fought, Ryu Ishigori used the recoil from a block to shoot back more than ten meters.
He abruptly drew in his fists and dipped his neck slightly. The row of glossy cannon barrels atop his head suddenly lit up with cold white light.
Cursed Energy flooded into them, and a moment later, dozens of slush