"Fire! Keep firing!" Endless rounds of ammunition poured into Old Veteran's massive upper body, bullets whizzing, slicing through the air, bursting deadly sprays of blood. Bullet scars roared; Old Veteran howled; the noise was relentless, explosions nonstop. Yet to Jack Young's senses, everything was so clear, so slow, so vivid. That's why he kept weaving around Old Veteran's lower half, in the most dangerous zone, delivering the deepest impact.
The battle raged on, brutal as ever. Some died, some were wounded, but no one backed down.
"Ah—!" This time, it wasn't Old Veteran shouting, but Jack Young. He let out a howl, suddenly wrapped his arms around Old Veteran's legs. Without realizing it, Old Veteran had reached the edge of the rooftop, and with a heave, Jack tossed him right off.
Old Veteran spread his arms, grabbing onto the steep wall. Just as he was about to jump back up, he saw someone drop from above—it was Jack Young, who actually dove off the rooftop to chase him down!
Bang! The impact was fierce as the two plummeted down. From six stories up, they clashed midair, rolling and grappling, until—thud!—they crashed onto the helipad platform, then bounced off to either side.
Crack! The ground split, rubble flew, Old Veteran's huge hand twitched as he climbed back up. His massive body was covered in wounds, some so deep you could see the bone. But he kept grinning wickedly—his wounds were already healing. With a physique like that, he was practically unbeatable.
He got up and looked back—ten meters away, Jack Young was standing too. Thanks to the fall, Old Veteran had cushioned Jack Young, so he was basically unharmed.
The sea wind howled, waves surged, but after all that crazed fighting, Jack Young's expression was calm. "You know, it wasn't until today that I finally understood what he meant: When the five senses sync up, the effect is damn near supernatural. Now, I see right through you—and I get it."
The rage was gone; now Jack Young was calm, serene, with the quiet strength of a mountain. "You crossed into Captain America's world, but you never truly got his power. You tried gamma radiation, but you're nowhere near the Hulk. Honestly, you've always been a loser."
"I kept wondering how to break the three different energies in you, since they seem all tangled up and powerful." His shirt was now just rags; Jack Young ripped it off, showing his own battered body. "But some old bastard once taught me something: People who look tough aren't always really tough. Most of the time, they're just all bark and no bite—rotten on the inside."
"What did you just say, you bastard? You think a piece of trash like you can mouth off to me?" Old Veteran charged forward, fist swinging, determined to smash this wobbly punk into pulp!
But Jack Young acted like he didn't even see him. "I'm not trash." With a flick of his left hand, Jack conjured up a jacket out of nowhere. He shook it out, slipped his arms in, flipped the collar, and buttoned it up with meticulous care. The sea breeze whipped the sleeves, giving him a classic, upright elegance.
This was a kung fu uniform.
Back in the martial arts world, at the Jingwu School, when Jack Young first started learning, Dr. Thomas Tang handed him this kung fu uniform. He never said anything special, but Jack always knew—whenever he put it on, he had only one identity.
"I'm a martial artist." Jack Young looked at Old Veteran, raised his left hand, his eyes shining bright as stars: "Tang Internal Martial Arts—Jack Young."
Bang! Fist met palm. Old Veteran threw his whole weight into a punch at Jack Young's raised left palm, charging ahead and pushing Jack toward the edge of the helipad. Beyond that edge—an endless abyss.
But Jack Young's face didn't change; he stayed calm the whole time. Old Veteran, charging like an angry rhino, slowed down step by step, his mighty body starting to stagger and tremble. Finally, he crashed to his knees. Jack Young stopped right at the edge—barely a hair's breadth away, but perfectly safe.
"Wh-why!" Old Veteran's voice shook, his eyes wide with terror. Jack Young somehow overlapped with a shadow from his memory—calm, seemingly weak but unbeatable, with a supernatural kind of strength. "Where did my power... go?"
"Your power never existed." Silent ripples spread from Jack Young's left hand, flowing through Old Veteran's fist to his whole body—the Dragon Elephant Extraction Method. "I finally get it. You're the one infected with the zombie virus. The three energies in you come from Captain America, Hulk, and Zombie Tyrant. Looks strong, but they're all pulling in different directions. The struggle inside you never stopped, just hidden by a calm surface. If I were fighting someone with all those powers in harmony, I'd have no chance. But you—half-dead—are nothing but decay to me!"
Fists—countless fists—flashed like lightning, unleashed by Jack Young's arms in an instant. Jab, poke, chop, block—every kind of attack imaginable poured down on Old Veteran like a torrential rain. Each punch didn't do much to his body, barely leaving a bruise. But a strange, indescribable fear rose from every corner of his being, something he couldn't block or dodge.
After a moment, the clouds parted and the rain fell. Jack Young lowered his fists and let out a long breath.
"You could never beat Dr. Thomas Tang." Jack Young even had a calm smile on his lips. "You can't even beat me, so how could you beat him? I bet he thrashed you, sent you running, and that's why you hate martial artists so much."
"You... you... can't..." Old Veteran squeezed the words out of his throat. "Are you also..."
"Yep, you're not some one-of-a-kind chosen hero." Jack Young raised his hand, curled his fingers, and pointed at Old Veteran's forehead. "That annoying old bastard is basically my—master."
Pop! Jack Young flicked Old Veteran's forehead. It wasn't some super-powered flick that could send him flying like Tsunade with Naruto, but it was like flipping a switch—suddenly, a huge bump swelled up. At the same time, Old Veteran's limbs, torso, chest, back—everywhere—ballooned with grotesque lumps, like his body was filled with overinflated balloons.
And those balloons had already gone way past their limit.
"Aaaah—!!" With one final scream, Old Veteran exploded, bursting into a shower of blood. Every swollen lump popped like a tiny bomb, spraying chunks everywhere. Muscles, bones, organs, nerves, brain—every vital part shattered under his own rampaging energy, never to heal again.
Boom—a massive blast. Old Veteran was blown to bits, scattered all over the ground.
The man who once wanted to rule the world met his end, here and now.
When Jonathan Black came huffing and puffing over, Jack Young was sitting on the edge of the helipad, legs dangling over the cliff, staring at the distant sky. Jonathan glanced at the pile of unrecognizable remains, his eyelid twitching—he really had no clue what kind of attack could do this. But instead of fearing Jack Young, he plopped down beside him.
"Uh, Jack," Jonathan scratched his head, hesitated for a while, then finally asked, "The Queen—is she my relative?"
"Relative?" Jack Young glanced at Jonathan and laughed. "You can call her 'cousin.'"
"Oh." Jonathan replied, fell silent for a while, lost in thought. Then he asked, "What are you looking at?"
Jack Young glanced at Old Veteran's remains, then looked out at the distant sky. A mass of dark clouds was rolling in, lightning flickered, and the wind carried a sense of panic. Jack stared at the clouds, but it was as if he was looking at something else, lost in thought. After a moment, he sighed and said quietly:
"The storm is coming." (Worked overtime today, but luckily I banked enough good karma yesterday~)