Out of fuel, Mike didn't care and took out his lighter.
"Poof!" The Wizard laughed, "With just a lighter..." Then he saw Mike light a cigarette and put the lighter in his pocket.
How embarrassing, to be so self-important...
Mike exhaled White smoke, "These zombies, they were still alive before they were parasitic, right?"
The Wizard was silent.
Mike continued, "Their clothes are too casual, like their lives were taken while they were walking, cooking, playing... Look, there's even a kid in a soccer uniform."
"Exactly." The Wizard's expression suddenly turned fanatical: "It is their honor to become nourishment for the gods."
"But did you ask them if they wanted this honor?" Mike slowly drew his nichirin blade.
Although the rattan armor was impenetrable, the Wizard inexplicably felt a little flustered: "But you didn't show them any mercy before!"
"Because they... are dead, they don't feel anything anymore."
The blade was a nichirin blade.
"To deal with you, I specifically spent five thousand dollars. Besides Fire, you should also be afraid of sunlight, right?"
Watching the vines continuously shrink back, Mike said, "I just guessed, and it seems I guessed right."
"Five thousand dollars, it hurts a bit, how to compensate... How about with your lives?"
"Die!"
Dozens of sharp vines stabbed towards Mike from all directions, but the vines, originally tough as steel wire, were as vulnerable as butter meeting a hot blade under the nichirin blade's slashes.
"Must retreat first!" The Wizard did not admit his failure, only a temporary retreat.
How could a god lose to a mortal!
This time, the vines did not object.
Are the vines gods?
Of course not, it was just a "common plant" left by aliens in the Mayan pyramid—for the aliens. Its most special feature was that it possessed intelligence no less than that of humans.
Hundreds of ramets detached from the main body and attacked Mike—this was the vine's preferred tactic of sacrificing parts to save the whole. At the same time, the vines on the Wizard's feet and legs coiled into a spring-like shape.
Compressing...
Then suddenly released.
The Wizard jumped diagonally upwards, a low-altitude leap.
The distance covered in one leap was at least a hundred meters.
Mike, however, crouched and chased wildly. When ramets blocked his way, he cut them down. After a running start, he jumped into the air, looking down at the Wizard, like a flying dragon in the sky.
"One-Sword Style. Flying Dragon. Fire!"
Mike held the nichirin blade in his right hand, placed it behind him, gripped his right wrist with his left hand, and slashed downwards with the blade, pulling Mike down and striking like a soaring dragon.
Boom!
The Wizard, flying at low altitude, was struck as if by a cannonball, cut in half at the waist.
The two halves of his body crashed heavily to the ground.
Black blood.
"Ah!"
The Wizard screamed; he was not dead. Tiny vines extended from the severed ends, attempting to reattach his body.
However, a Cyan Fire suddenly erupted from the severed ends.
"Ah!!!" The Wizard screamed even more terribly.
The Cyan Fire made the vine feel a strong survival crisis, and it decided to abandon the Wizard as a host. But the Cyan Fire was like a persistent disease; it actively severed the branches that had been touched by the Cyan Fire.
It was useless.
It felt like being in a furnace; one ignition point would be extinguished, and another would start.
Soon, the vine was engulfed by the flames and turned into ashes.
"God? Pfft!"
"Cyan Fire... unscientific, it feels like burning the soul."
Mike sheathed his nichirin blade.
After the main body died, the ramets also lost their vitality. To be safe, Mike gathered all the vines and zombies and burned them.
"As expected, after showing off, I'm afraid of the aftermath; cleaning up isn't cool at all." Mike complained, mainly because the smell of decay was too terrible.
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D..
"Why is it burning, and the color of this flame is not right," Fury asked.
"Ahem, perhaps it can be explained scientifically. First, the intense friction between the blade and the air causes sparks, the blade causes wounds, ignites human fat, and finally, trace elements in the human body cause a flame color reaction," Simmons replied.
Fury: "Isn't that too far-fetched?"
Coulson: "It's similar to the principle of spontaneous human combustion, right?"
"Oh." Fury nodded, thoughtfully, "This kid looks less and less human. Could he be an alien?"
Coulson: "We already investigated; there were no abnormalities."
"Check again, starting from three generations ago..."
"Yes."
Those tentacle monster vines were also a key focus of S.H.I.E.L.D., but unfortunately, Mike burned them to ashes.
Crossing a fence, Mike arrived at the Sheep Prairie. The Sheep Prairie was originally genuinely used for grazing sheep, but later it became a good place for picnics and outdoor activities... In short, cleaners often found used condoms under the turf, especially the next morning.
As he walked, Mike suddenly stomped his foot hard.
A muffled groan came from the ground.
Blood seeped out of the ground.
A killer ambushed underground was stomped to Death by Mike.
Dig a pit, put up a stand, cover it with turf, and that's Earth Release?
Dream on!
Mike took out a megaphone, the kind commonly used for "Jiangnan Leather Factory, the boss ran off with his cousin."
"Hello, hello, hello, can you hear me?"
"I'm your target, Mike Tang, just call me Mike. Of course, I don't mind if you call me Daddy Mike, just consider yourselves a few more sons and daughters... Ahem, just kidding, relax."
"I believe the Wizard's Death has deterred many people. Those who remain are either crazy or stubborn, confident in themselves. It's okay, I understand, you are the elites of the Continental Hotel assassins, even top experts on a World scale, all of you have survived countless life-and-Death situations to this day. It's not your style to be deterred by a few words, how would you live after that, right?!"
"Don't worry, I'm not persuading, I'm begging. I'm begging all of you to come out at once. Sending yourselves one by one puts a lot of psychological pressure on you, and it annoys me too. How about coming at me all at once?"
The poor quality of the megaphone made the sound harsh, and Mike's words were probably just as harsh...
Silence.
The night wind was cool.
About ten minutes later, the killers appeared one after another.
Several ninjas in black.
A burly man, over two meters tall and covered in ammunition belts like an iron tower, then stepped forward.
A masked man in an exoskeleton suit.
A lean Asian with a nine-headed dragon tattoo on his body.
A medieval knight in plate armor.
A native covered in war paint, holding a long spear.
A fat otaku holding a joystick remote control.
And... Deadpool, in a red and black tight suit?
Deadpool?
Deadpool!
Why didn't Winston provide his information?
Mike felt a headache coming on.
Not fear.
But annoyance.
Deadpool is a famous sticky nuisance in the Marvel Universe, whether in movies or comics. He's known as "Little Bitch."
The character "cheap" (jian, meaning cheap/bitchy) was practically tailor-made for him.
Without needing many words, the appearance of the red and black suit immediately broke the fourth wall, splattering his "cheap" essence directly onto the author's dog's computer screen, utterly "cheap"-ifying "I don't want candy." As a result, the chapter, originally planned to be over 2100 words, was about to end.
It's not the author's fault for being short; Deadpool has to take the blame.
Hiahia~~~
Oh no, the author has been infected with the "cheap" aura!