Chapter 196: Two Shadows

The Deathstroke's blade was a bit faster than anticipated.

Swish—

The blade slicing through the air reflected a cold white light, dazzling the Deadshot so much he could barely keep his eyes open.

Instinctively, he used the two submachine guns in his hands to parry; the alloy blade struck the steel gun bodies, sending brilliant sparks flying, and the crisp sound of metal clashing reached the ears of Ma Ma Zhaodi, who was rushing toward the battlefield at high speed.

In a normal fight, no one would use a blade in hand to chop hard steel; such a fighting style was completely destroying the blade in hand—the edge would chip, the blade would crack, and even snapping off on the spot was possible.

But this was not a fight between normal people, nor was Deathstroke's blade a normal blade; in fact, from the moment he used his blade to slice a bullet, the Deadshot realized that the dual blades in the opponent's hands must be made of a special alloy material.

A tremendous force surged from the submachine guns, like a heavy iron hammer striking hard, numbing the Deadshot's hands; two bullets misfired and shot out, shattering the LCD screen displaying the countdown to the train's departure.

And as the blade slid along the gun body toward the Deadshot's fingers, he decisively chose to abandon the gun.

Deathstroke had already charged to this distance; the submachine guns were simply not agile enough. The Deadshot drew two pistols from his waist, bullets firing rapidly from the muzzles, while he surged forward, breaking into the inner circle of the long blade—the Deadshot's hand-to-hand combat ability was not much inferior to his shooting skills; the dual pistols were his close-quarters weapons.

Ma Ma Zhaodi, standing aside, secretly used the "I Didn't Kill Anyone" skill on the two locked in fierce combat; through his sense of smell, he roughly confirmed that there was no scent of blood at the scene, meaning no civilians had been caught in the crossfire yet, so he immediately lay flat on the ground, pretending to be a corpse once more.

"Slade, don't block my path."

The Deadshot spun his dual pistols, using two bullets to precisely deflect Deathstroke's long blade, then drove a knee strike toward Deathstroke's lower abdomen.

Deathstroke immediately changed his move to counter the Deadshot's attack; while stepping back, he pulled both blades back, using the hilt of the blade in one hand to block the Deadshot's strike from below, while the other hand slashed toward his head.

The dual pistols in the Deadshot's hands fired again; using the recoil to accelerate his retreat, the blade tip just barely swept past his cheek—then the upward slash of the other blade followed up.

The Deadshot had no time to evade and could only spin to dissipate the force; this slash was quite powerful, directly splitting his chest armor, and crimson blood droplets scattered into the air; the Deadshot fell into a disadvantage.

In the moment the Deadshot turned his back on him, Slade followed up with a thrust; the flexibility of the dual blades combined with his superhuman physical constitution now formed an overwhelming dominance over the Deadshot.

Bang!

A dum-dum bullet flew out from under the Deadshot's armpit; this was the best angle he had found. Deathstroke couldn't see his blind shot from under his right armpit at all; his reaction was clearly half a beat too slow. Even as he dodged sideways, the bullet still tore through the muscles of his left shoulder and drilled into the bone.

"Is this your so-called precision, Floyd?"

Even with a wounded shoulder, Deathstroke's voice remained steady amidst the hail of bullets; the electronic voice modulator inside the mask exuded an overwhelming sense of pressure: "You have regressed."

Turning back, the Deadshot raised his gun again, just in time to see Deathstroke kick over a nearby vending machine, sending carbonated drinks with lots of foam cascading out like a multicolored waterfall.

With his vision suddenly obscured by the soda curtain, the Deadshot hesitated almost not at all; his incredible eyesight captured the abnormal change in light and shadow at the ten o'clock direction almost instantly.

Bang!

Both pistols fired simultaneously; two bullets, decisive to the point of near-blind overconfidence, spun out of the barrels, meeting the two sharp blades piercing through the water curtain head-on and deflecting the blade tips.

Clang!

The ricocheting bullet flew behind a Load-Bearing pillar; an old man wearing a woolen cap was crouching, clutching his train ticket and trembling. The bullet struck his body squarely; he could only let out a cry of pain before slowly collapsing to the ground.

Blood spread from behind the marble pillar onto the surrounding ground. The two fighting simultaneously frowned beneath their masks, yet their movements did not pause for a single instant; mercenaries are born to eliminate targets and will not be swayed by anything.

"Enough!"

Batman's angry voice rang out at the station entrance; two Batarangs traced dark arcs, flying toward the engaged Deadshot and Deathstroke respectively.

Bang!

Clang!

The Deadshot raised a hand and fired a shot; Deathstroke casually slashed; the Batarangs were knocked down. The two paid no attention to Batman's warning and continued fighting as one.

"I said enough!"

Swish—

Blinding white light suddenly erupted from the flying shuriken on the ground, forcing the two combatants to close their eyes. Seizing this moment, Batman immediately leaped forward and rushed to their sides.

However, Deathstroke, realizing the situation was about to change, immediately took a smoke bomb from his waist and threw it at the feet of the three.

The hissing sound of spreading gas continued unabated; white smoke filled this small space within seconds, and for a moment, all three were lost in the fog.

Should I blow it away? The thought flashed through Ma Ma Zhaodi's mind, only to be immediately rejected.

He moved silently and swiftly across the ground like a ghost, arriving behind the Load-Bearing pillar, where he fed a piece of fruit candy into the old man's mouth, then lay back down—with the smoke bomb as cover, this sequence of actions would not be noticed by those people for the time being.

At the same time, the sound of gunfire and blades slicing through the air resumed within the smoke.

Floyd gripped his pistol in reverse, using it to block, revealing two shooting bracers; the special lens in his right eye activated, and in the infrared thermal vision, the outlines of Deathstroke and Batman in the smoke appeared with crystal clarity.

So he aimed both arms and fired at both of them simultaneously.

Ding ding ding—

Deathstroke's senses were equally extraordinary; when the fog obscured all vision, he immediately closed his eyes, abandoning sight, and relied on hearing to perceive. As the Deadshot's bullets left the barrels, he tilted his ear slightly and immediately heard the sound of objects breaking the wind at high speed.

He swung his dual blades, precisely deflecting the bullets one by one, and locked onto the Deadshot's position through the sound of gunfire, immediately turning and pressing forward, using the dual blades to suppress in close combat.

At this moment, the Deadshot was retreating step by step again; Deathstroke's body's self-healing ability took effect, and the shoulder wounded by the bullet just now had already recovered partially, once again gaining the upper hand in close combat.

Batman also activated his tactical visor at this time; his helmet naturally had infrared vision as well, so he immediately joined the fray.

The situation instantly became chaotic; the Deadshot shot Deathstroke, Deathstroke slashed Batman, and Batman punched the Deadshot; the three wrestled into a tangle within the smoke.

"From that Load-Bearing pillar, forty-seven steps."

Deathstroke suddenly spoke: "You were waiting for this moment, weren't you?"

The Deadshot fell silent for an instant, then suddenly sneered: "Aren't you the same?"

Batman was somewhat puzzled, but immediately after, he took another step into the smoke, and his boot stepped onto the railroad sleeper—this caused his body to lose balance once, and at the same time made him understand the meaning behind the two's words.

But it was already too late; the tiny mistake appeared so fatal at this moment. The roar of the train rang out in the station; a beast-like train charged toward Batman on the tracks, while the combined attack of Deathstroke and the Deadshot arrived simultaneously.

Batman leaned back to dodge the bullets and dual blades, and at the same time finally broke free from the smoke obscuring his vision.

However, as he glanced sideways, he saw the glaring brightness of the train headlights.

(End of this chapter)