"Can't hit it, just can't hit it, isn't that infuriating?"
The iron hammer doesn't have tracking properties; it only crashes in a straight line. Da Smoke Ghost had long been on guard against this move, naturally wouldn't be hit, and easily dodged it. This made him feel unusually excited, continuing to provoke, "Son of a thieve, if you have any skills, show them all. Grandpa can take it!"
"..."
The blacksmith was so angry that he couldn't say a single word, his hateful gaze fixed on Da Smoke Ghost's figure. If he had Saiyan bloodline, he would probably have transformed into the third stage. Without any further hesitation, he jumped into the Netherworld Purple Fire, enacting a moth-to-flame moment.
"What the heck is going on? Stimulated into despair?"
Seeing the blacksmith's self-destructive move, Da Smoke Ghost was quite surprised, slowing his pace down gradually until he simply stopped in place, trying to understand what this guy was doing.
"Well done!"
