Ye Mo leaned against the floating rock, feeling as if someone had been sawing the bone in his right ribs back and forth several times; each breath brought a dull pain. The warning light in his helmet was still flashing, a blinding red, but he didn't have time to turn it off. Ronan had already moved, his warhammer dragging on the ground, cracking the gravel with every step. This guy didn't care about tactics or feints; he just used one word—pressure.
Ye Mo knew that if he continued to hide, he would eventually be cornered. His thruster energy was down to only 30%, and the impact had left his internal organs numb. He couldn't sustain himself for long by rolling and short bursts of thrust. He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking deep into the " Gene Spiral Tower " within his mind. The tower remained the same, a dark pillar, with a faint light on the twelfth floor—the fragment of his ability he had left behind when he encountered Colossus in the Mutants prison: ** Steel Bone Form **.
"System, don't let me down now," he muttered to himself. "Get something real."
There was no notification sound or visual effect, only a buzzing in his head, as if a surge of heat was flowing down his spine. Immediately afterwards, all the bones in his body began to burn, especially the fractured area on his right rib, which hurt so much that he almost bit his lip. The feeling was not like healing, but rather as if someone had taken his bones apart one by one, thrown them into a furnace to be reforged, and then forced them back in.
"Damn... this is even worse than breaking it once." He cursed under his breath, pushed off with his feet, and stood up straight from behind the pumice.
Ronan was still ten meters away from him, his warhammer raised high, dark red energy gathering denser and denser on the Hammerhead. If this blow landed, not only would a person collapse, but the entire rock formation would crumble. But Ye Mo didn't retreat; instead, he took a step forward, his shoulders slightly lowered, his neck tensed, and his spine straight as an iron rod.
"Come on!" he roared, his voice coming through the helmet, hoarse and unlike his own.
The warhammer fell.
It wasn't a chop, it was a smash, carrying the potential energy to split a mountain. Ye Mo raised his shoulder to meet it, using the line from his right collarbone to his shoulder blade as the weight. The moment the metallic clang exploded, the entire gravel belt trembled. Sparks flew everywhere, and his feet sank directly into the ground, the soil and gravel bursting open in a spiderweb pattern, cracks spreading out for nearly five meters.
But he didn't collapse.
The helmet visor was covered in ripples from the vibration, making his vision blurry, but Ye Mo could clearly see that there wasn't even a dent on his shoulder. The alloy skeleton reconstructed from Mutants genes had withstood the blow.
Ronan's warhammer was stuck in mid-air, the Hammerhead only half an inch away from Ye Mo's shoulder, but he couldn't press it down any further. He stared at Ye Mo, and for the first time, his eyes under his helmet showed a flicker of emotion.
"You... are not human," he said, his voice no longer carrying the previous contempt, but filled with uncertainty.
Ye Mo didn't reply, but slowly exhaled. The inside of his mask was covered in sweat, which trickled down his forehead and tickled his eyes, but he remained motionless. He knew he couldn't speak now; if he did, his momentum would falter. Although he had withstood the impact, the internal load on his body was considerable. His Steel Bone State felt like it was operating at overclock, with heat radiating from the gaps in his bones, as if they were about to spontaneously combust at any moment.
He could only stand still, hold on, and wait it out.
Ronan sheathed his warhammer, took a half-step back, and gathered his strength again. This time, he didn't probe, but launched a fierce attack directly.
The first blow came straight at his head. Ye Mo dodged to the side, taking the hit with his left shoulder. The metallic clang was even louder than before, shattering a nearby pumice into dust. The second blow swept across his waist and abdomen. He crossed his arms to block in front of his chest, his alloy skeleton emitting a "clang," like two steel plates colliding. He was slammed back two meters, his boots carving two deep furrows into the rock face. The third blow came down from above at an angle. He lunged forward, his spine taut like a bowstring, using his back to absorb most of the force. The remaining impact made his teeth ache.
Ye Mo remained standing despite missing all three attacks.
Ronan stopped, his warhammer hanging down, pointing at the ground. He didn't speak again, but his movements clearly changed. The casualness of "crushing ants" was gone, replaced by scrutiny, as if he were looking at a weapon that shouldn't be there.
Ye Mo took the opportunity to catch his breath. The air inside the mask was humid and stuffy, and his breathing was as loud as a bellows. He could feel his Steel Bone State being depleted. The system hadn't given a clear cooldown time, but the feeling of his bones gradually becoming hollow told him that he couldn't hold on for much longer.
But he couldn't back down.
If he retreats, Ronan will charge towards the gem. And there's no one guarding that side now. Star-Lord and the others were just scattered, Groot is still rebuilding Roots, and Gamora's fate is unknown. On this battlefield, only he remains standing, still able to hold off the enemy.
Therefore, we must bear it.
He slowly raised his arms, from left to right, to show his perfectly intact body. The scratches on his gloves were still there, and his work pants were torn, but the alloy skeleton beneath his skin was completely unmarked.
"Look," he grinned, his voice coming through the helmet, slightly out of breath, "I'm pretty tough, aren't I?"
Ronan didn't move, but his grip on the hammer tightened.
The fourth strike has arrived.
This blow was even more devastating than the previous three. The Hammerhead was enveloped in a purplish-black energy wave, as if it were about to tear space apart. Ye Mo didn't try to take it head-on this time. Instead, he used the force to take a half-step back, pushed off the ground with both feet, and managed to stand firm amidst the shockwave. He looked down at his palms; his knuckles were white, and his palms were burning hot, as if he were holding a piece of red-hot iron.
He knew that his chance to retaliate was coming soon.
But this opportunity doesn't come now.
He closed his eyes briefly, scanning the area with the remaining fragments of " Telepathy." Ronan's movements were rhythmic—before each heavy blow, his right shoulder would drop for 0.3 seconds, and the rhythm of his muscle tension would change. Moreover, this guy relied too much on strength, aiming for a decisive strike with every blow, and his recovery was as slow as an old-fashioned steam engine.
As long as you find that gap...
He slowly bent his knees, lowered his center of gravity, and brought his fists to his waist, assuming a defensive counter-attack stance. Not to fight, but to wait. To wait for the opponent to show an opening, to wait for that 0.3-second gap.
Ronan stood rooted to the spot, his warhammer slightly lowered, his gaze fixed intently on him from beneath his helmet. Between the two, rubble floated in mid-air, as if forgotten to land by the shockwave. In the distance, the blue light of the gravity anchoring device still flickered, like a heart that refused to be extinguished.
Ye Mo didn't move.
Ronan didn't move either.
The wind blew across the gravel belt, stirring up a layer of dust.
He stood in the eye of the storm, his bones burning, sweat pouring down his face, his breathing heavy like a broken tractor. But his eyes were bright, his steps steady, and his spine straight.
From a fleeing passerby to a man capable of facing a god-level warrior head-on—he shattered pain and overcame fear, relying not on luck, nor on a system.
It was him.
He stared at Ronan, his throat bobbed, and he swallowed a mouthful of saliva that tasted of rust.
"Come on," he whispered, "Let's see how many more blows you can get up there."