The light bulb, still flickering overhead, was dangling from its cable. Ye Mo stood at the boundary between light and darkness, his right foot wedged in a crack in the support frame, his left arm protecting his chest. The metallic feel of Steel Bone emanated from deep within his skeleton, as if his body was filled with molten iron. Pain was certain; every bone was protesting, but he could still stand.
Ronan didn't move either.
The scepter hovered in mid-air, its purple flames flickering, as if it were hanging by a thread. He stared at Ye Mo, the flames beneath his helmet dancing slightly, revealing no emotion, but the oppressive aura had indeed weakened somewhat.
That barrage of attacks just now didn't knock him down; instead, it disrupted his own rhythm.
Ye Mo gasped for breath, his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt blood and rust. He knew this opportunity was fleeting— Ronan was like a battery half-charged, its energy stuck at the top, and just one more hit would send him flying.
We can't wait any longer.
He pushed off the ground with a sudden effort, pulling his right foot out of the crack. Using the reaction force transmitted through the Steel Bone, his whole body sprang straight like a spring. His knee made a soft "crack" sound. The old injury combined with the new crack made his vision go black from the pain, but he didn't stop. He swung his arms and pulled his left hand back from his chest, freeing both hands.
Right now.
A "ding" sounded in his mind. The system didn't speak, but he knew very well that the three ability modules—lightning, fire, and ice—had been pre-loaded and were just waiting for a activation command.
He gave a low shout and pushed forward with both palms.
Triple capabilities, activated simultaneously.
The first wave is lightning.
A high-frequency current burst forth from his fingertips, not in a single stream, but in a beam, like a high-voltage power grid instantly opening up, cleaving down from the ceiling and heading straight for Ronan's head. The speed was so fast that even the air didn't have time to react; there was only a loud "sizzle" sound, and the entire corridor's lighting system short-circuited, exploding into a shower of sparks.
Ronan instinctively raised his staff to block, and the Purple Flame Shield instantly expanded, enveloping his entire body in a spherical barrier. Lightning bolts struck it, crackling and sending arcs of electricity flying everywhere, but he withstood the impact.
But this is just the beginning.
Just as he looked up to deal with the lightning strike, the ground cracked with a "crack," and a layer of white frost spread from Ye Mo's feet at a visible speed, covering three meters in the blink of an eye and freezing Ronan's feet. The cold air seeped in through the seams of the armor, ice crystals formed on the metal surface, and the joints creaked, causing his movements to pause for a moment.
The Ice Manipulation Ability worked.
Ye Mo grinned, and a stream of fire immediately compressed from his right palm. Instead of shooting out, it slid along the ground like a crimson snake, rapidly advancing along the ice surface. The fire, aided by the ice, amplified its temperature, precisely striking the seam of Ronan's abdominal armor.
"Boom!"
Flames erupted, igniting the internal energy. The purple flame shield trembled violently, flickering like a poorly connected television screen, almost collapsing.
A three-pronged attack, each move linked to the next.
Ronan finally staggered back a step, his armor burned in several places, the part of his left leg that was frozen cracked open, and black smoke billowed from his right abdomen. The purple flames under his helmet flickered violently, clearly the first time his rhythm had been disrupted.
Ye Mo gave him no chance to catch his breath, and immediately charged forward after landing.
He took two steps forward, closing the distance. He condensed low-temperature ice crystals in his left hand, covering his fist with a layer of brittle frost, and threw a straight punch at the helmet. The fist struck the helmet with a muffled "clang," and spiderweb-like cracks instantly appeared on the surface, letting in a rush of cold air.
Ronan instinctively raised his hand to block, Ye Mo swept out with his right leg, lightning arcs wrapped around the side of his leg, striking Ronan's arm holding the staff. The electric current surged into his joint, causing a brief paralysis of his nerves, and the staff trembled with a "hum," almost slipping from his hand.
The two engaged in close-quarters combat, the pace of which was as fast as playing arcade games with combos.
After landing, Ye Mo immediately leaped back half a step, clasped his hands together again, palms facing each other, and compressed a storm of ice and fire—the outer layer was a swirling flame, and the core was a rapidly condensing cold current, like a miniature typhoon eye, which blasted towards Ronan's chest.
"Boom--!"
The shockwave from the explosion sent rubble and debris flying, and billowing smoke and dust made the entire corridor look like it had been plowed. Ye Mo stood there, breathing heavily. His Steel Bone system automatically shut down, and the metallic feeling in his bones slowly faded, replaced by dull pain from dozens of points all over his body.
But he won this round.
As the smoke cleared, Ronan knelt on one knee, his scepter planted diagonally in the ground, its purple flames flickering weakly like a gas stove about to burn out. His armor was damaged in many places, his left leg was covered in frost, his right abdomen was charred black, and his faceplate was riddled with cracks. He looked like Iron Man just pulled off a barbecue grill.
He didn't fall, but he couldn't get up.
Ye Mo stood two meters in front of the Power Stone's stand, his arms slightly outstretched, the fingertips still warm from the lightning and fire. He didn't touch the gem, nor did he speak; he just stood there, like a drawn sword, its blade aimed directly at the opponent's throat.
"You just said you were going to destroy half the universe?" He gasped for breath, his voice hoarse. "And you were defeated before I could even finish my combo?"
Ronan did not answer.
The purple flame beneath the helmet flickered, like an indicator light showing low battery.
Ye Mo didn't expect a response from him. He knew that this kind of person would die for his pride and would never admit defeat even if he were beaten to a pulp. But it didn't matter; the facts were there—he was standing right there, Ronan was kneeling there. It was clear who was attacking and who was defending.
He slowly raised his right hand, palm facing Ronan, lightning arcs dancing at his fingertips, ready for the next wave of attack.
"If you back down now, I might consider not kicking you a couple more times," he said.
Ronan finally made a move.
He braced himself with one hand, trying to stand up, but the part of his left leg that was frozen hadn't completely thawed, and with the slightest effort, it cracked open with an even larger fissure. He gritted his teeth, gripped the scepter tightly with his other hand, and the purple flames re-condensed, weak but still struggling.
Ye Mo narrowed his eyes.
Fine, you're not happy about it?
Let's continue.
He took a deep breath, his lungs burning, but his mind was unusually clear. He knew his limits—his Self-Healing module was still active, but its reserves were low; the cooldown times for lightning and fire were unknown, but he could use ice once more; he had just used the Wall Phasing Technique, and it was still locked.
But it's okay.
The situation has changed.
One second he had to rely on his Steel Bone to withstand the blows, like a sandbag taking hits without wavering; now he can take the initiative and beat his opponent so badly he can't stand up.
This is a comeback.
He took a step forward, his shoe crushing a shard of ice with a crisp "crack".
Ronan looked up, and the purple flames stared at him through the crack.
Ye Mo grinned. "Stop looking, I'm not someone to be trifled with."
Before he finished speaking, he thrust his right palm forward, unleashing another stream of compressed flames that hurtled straight at Ronan's face. Ronan barely managed to raise his staff to block, the shield flashing past and managing to deflect the attack, but the impact sent him staggering backward again, one knee sinking completely into the ground.
Ye Mo didn't stop; his left hand immediately followed, spreading a chill that frosted the ground again, this time locking Ye Mo's right leg in place.
"You still want to recharge?" he said as he hit him. "Recharge my ass! This broken scepter of yours is harder to ride than a shared bike."
As he spoke, he delivered another lightning arc kick, striking the opponent's wrist. An electric current surged through him, causing the scepter to vibrate with a "hum," almost slipping from his grasp.
Ronan finally realized something was wrong.
This was no ordinary counterattack; it was a premeditated combo attack. The opponent hadn't acted on impulse; they had anticipated his reaction—first, using lightning to force him to raise his defense, then using ground ice to restrict his movement, and finally using fire to break his defense. The combination of these three attacks perfectly countered his shield mechanism.
He didn't lose because of strength, he lost because of rhythm.
Now, Ye Mo has completely taken control of the rhythm.
Ye Mo stood still, his hands clasped together, lightning flashing alternately, as if he were testing a high-powered weapon. He knew his opponent still had trump cards up his sleeve and might launch a counterattack at any moment, so he couldn't stop; he had to keep applying pressure until his opponent was completely unable to retaliate.
He took another step forward.
"Do you know why I can beat you?" he said, "Because all you do is smash, while I know combos."
Ronan didn't answer, but the purple flames beneath his helmet clearly flickered.
Ye Mo laughed, "You're not convinced? Then stand up."
The opponent, bracing himself on the scepter, tried to exert force, but his legs were frozen and his right arm was paralyzed by lightning, making his movements as sluggish as an old-fashioned robot. Just as he lifted himself up slightly, Ye Mo immediately struck out with his palm, and the ice and fire storm formed again, slamming into his chest.
"Bang!"
The impact sent him sliding half a meter backward, his back slamming into the broken wall, sending rubble crashing down.
Ye Mo stood there, panting heavily, blood seeping from his forehead, his work pants worn through at the knees, revealing the bleeding skin beneath. But his posture was upright, his eyes sharp, like a knife stuck in the center of a battlefield.
He knew that he had already won most of the battle.
Ronan knelt on one knee, his scepter tilted and touching the ground. The purple flames were faint, and his vision was obscured by smoke and dust, preventing him from rising.
Ye Mo, however, remained steadfast, his hands slightly outstretched, in a state of combat alert, ready to respond to any counterattack.