The explosive tumbled and flew over, landing in front of Luke.
His vision, saturated with bloodshot eyes, was filled with only that small, inconspicuous square, and he instinctively took a small half-step forward.
This one step conveniently shielded the red body on the ground behind him.
The Punisher lunged to the side, crashing into half a row of empty metal barrels and simultaneously detonating the detonator.
"Boom!"
The explosives flew close to the ground, and the blast wave sent the hundreds-of-pounds-heavy meat mountain flying several meters.
The metal canisters on Luke's back shattered, and the thick liquid pumped by the high-pressure pump inside sprang up into a wall of fire more than two meters high as soon as it came into contact with an open flame, spreading wildly down his back.
But this monster's defense is unbelievable.
Apart from the sizzling and pungent smell emanating from the flesh pierced by the catheters in the fire, his bald head and tough skin didn't even crack in the slightest.
Sparks burned the subcutaneous tissue along with the medicinal liquid, making a sizzling sound.
Amidst the roaring sounds, one steel beam after another fell from the roof.
The close-range explosion caused the Punisher's ears to ring, but he didn't care about that at the moment. Using his elbows and knees, he frantically crawled across the scorching rubble and shards of glass, and in a few moments, he reached Daredevil's side.
The situation has deteriorated to the extreme.
The vertebrae completely dislocated and broke at the point of impact, and the nerve pathways in the lower body were severed.
He's ruined, but at least his life has been saved.
Having Punisher for so many years, if this kind of injury were placed in a field hospital, the doctor would just shake his head and give the wounded an overdose of morphine so that he could die with some dignity.
Even if they are lucky enough to survive, they will spend the rest of their lives lying in a wheelchair staring at the ceiling.
Daredevil's eyelids suddenly twitched, and his lips trembled.
The Punisher grabbed his shoulder, his palm clearly feeling the bone dented beneath the bulletproof fabric.
"Shut up, save your breath."
Frank had no time to listen to confessions, much less the sympathy to offer.
In the center of the inferno, the flaming monster was rising again.
At that moment, all he could do was hunch over, hoist the person onto his shoulder, and use an electrical cable to tie himself up as he struggled forward.
At the other end of the workshop, the pile of scrap metal collapsed with a loud crash.
Luke Cage stood up from the fire.
The fire on his back was still burning, and his bloodshot eyes pierced through the flames as he let out a long howl to the sky.
The Punisher, hunched over, ran wildly with an adult man on his back, his leg muscles still trembling violently.
As he passed through the assembly aisle, he used the momentum of his forward run to lift his boot and kick over a steel shelf next to him.
After running around the corner, he used his shoulder to knock over a whole row of iron barrels filled with lubricating oil, and the flames that followed turned the area behind him into a curtain of fire.
As the two men stumbled out of the factory, a torrential downpour soaked the Punisher, but he didn't bother to wipe himself off.
The open space was filled with men in black.
Masked in black, they surrounded the entire factory area in circles, at least fifty or sixty people, completely blocking all possible escape routes to the streets.
At the edge of a container not far away, someone had set up a dark green tarpaulin to protect it from rain.
Madame Gao sat in the armchair below, a blanket covering her knees, a dragon-headed cane resting on her lap, and a purple clay teapot on a small table beside her.
"On damp, rainy nights like these, old bones are most likely to malfunction."
She lifted the lid of the kettle and blew on it to warm herself up. "You two have been busy all night, won't you come in and have some hot water to warm yourselves up?"
The Punisher swayed the heavier body on his back, coldly surveying the assassins around him who had drawn their swords. The jumbled clues in his mind finally pieced together into a complete loop.
The scene at the docks, where the madman stuffed all the gangsters and the Hand into a warehouse and wiped them out, he thought it was just madness, but now he's starting to understand its true meaning.
The whole thing was written by that madman; even the fire at the dock was on someone else's program.
The entire city was that madman's stage, and even the Hand and the Punisher were manipulated into becoming puppets on that stage.
There was another loud crash against the factory wall, and Luke Cage smashed through half of the wall and chased after him.
Dozens of ninjas turned around in unison. No one drew their swords to attack him. Instead, they all threw out chains with lead weights, binding the enormous creature tightly with a single chain.
A lump of iron engraved with runes hung from the end of the chain, the links digging into the unburnt flesh, hissing and emitting white smoke.
No matter how loudly Luke howled, he couldn't break free from the dozens of chains binding him for the time being.
Madame Gao slowly put down her teacup, her tone calm. "That green-haired gentleman owed my the Hand a whole ship's worth of weapons. He used this modified experimental subject... um, that guy named Bane, to settle the debt."
"As for the two of you, consider it a bonus. I've carefully calculated it, and the Hand n't losing out on this deal."
That's a perfect example of not losing out.
The Punisher desperately wanted to pull out a Gatling gun and shoot these people, but unfortunately, he couldn't.
He lifted the person on his back a little higher, saying, "The accounts are good, but I'm afraid you won't make it out of this rain."
Madame Gao smiled, her face crinkling with wrinkles, and placed the teacup back on the small table.
"You? Mr. J is right, you won't even make it to the third act tonight."
Run! The guy on the ground won't last two blocks. His spine is broken; every minute he delays is an inch more damaged.
He glanced at the wall out of the corner of his eye; it was a three-meter-high barbed wire fence, which even a disabled person couldn't climb over.
Staying behind and facing dozens of knives with your bare fists is a losing proposition no matter how you look at it.
The Punisher crouched down and pulled a small revolver, about the size of a palm, two inches long, from his right boot. There was only one round in the magazine.
He kept this gun hidden in his boot for ten years, through countless encirclements and ambushes. Even when he was out of ammunition and food and covered in wounds, he never took out that bullet to fire at the enemy.
This is reserved for Extremis, for moments of capture and torture, or when there is absolutely no way out.
But the Punisher never imagined that one day he would have to choose who gets to use this bullet.
Should I first grant relief to this stubborn, foolish Azazel behind me, or keep him to myself?
"Let's do it."
Madame Gao coldly ordered, "Do it. Leave Daredevil's body intact and send him to the dungeon. The other one... chop him up and throw him into the bay to feed the fish."
The sword flashed, shattering the rain curtain.
Just then, a strange noise came through the rain.
The sound cut across the rain curtain, clearly the sound of metal parts spinning at high speed.
The sound took a turn, and several samurai swords shattered simultaneously.
The Punisher pointed his gun at Daredevil's jaw, momentarily forgetting to pull the trigger.
He saw the thing, a disc.
In the rain, the ninja closest to him looked up, his sword halfway raised.
Click!
The disc smashed the sword in half, then sent the ninja and the sword flying.
Finally, the disc continued its momentum, slicing through a lamppost at an angle before bouncing up in a wide arc and flying back.
A hand reached out from the firelight and firmly grasped it.
The white star on the shield shone brightly in the firelight.