"Stand the fuck up straight!"
Before he finished speaking, Soldier Boy had already charged.
Lucian's eyelid twitched at the words.
What the hell?
A heavy fist came crashing toward his face. Lucian didn't dodge, raising his left arm to block it head-on.
Bang!
The shock wave from the collision blasted outward, opening great cracks in the concrete beneath their feet.
Lucian's body barely swayed.
Soldier Boy's arm, however, went numb from the recoil, and some of the confusion in his eyes cleared.
Something's wrong with this kid.
That punch should have dented even tank armor. Yet his opponent stood there without moving a foot back.
"Is that all you've got?"
Lucian raised his fist and drove it straight at his face.
Soldier Boy tilted his head aside, letting the rush of air skim past his ear. Then he lowered his center of gravity, drove his shoulder into Lucian's chest, and hooked his right foot around Lucian's ankle, trying to throw him with a wrestling move.
The move was very professional.
Lucian could feel that his opponent's experience far surpassed his own. Although Vought had fabricated most of Soldier Boy's World War II record, his training and combat experience were real.
Unfortunately, technique could bridge a gap, but it couldn't fill a chasm.
Lucian braced his core, his feet planted as if nailed to the ground. His right hand clamped onto the back of Soldier Boy's neck, and his left knee drove upward.
Bang!
Soldier Boy blocked the knee with his elbow, but the impact knocked his entire arm upward. The next second, Lucian's fist landed beneath his ribs.
A dull thud rang out.
Soldier Boy flew sideways, forcibly twisting in midair. After landing on his feet, he slid another seven or eight meters.
"Not bad strength."
He wiped the blood