Chapter 4546: Day of White (12)

Now, curiosity about Schiller had surpassed the desire for slaughter. In truth, Deathstroke had no particular desire for slaughter either. He did not consider himself an out-of-control machine of violence; that label carried too many negative connotations, and Deathstroke merely viewed it as a jest.

Roughly 20 seconds later, Deathstroke deeply grasped a principle—the essence of humanity is to measure others by oneself. Humans cannot imagine evaluations of fields they have never stepped into.

Out of curiosity, Deathstroke agreed to Schiller's plan. This was the decision he would regret most in the coming days. Deathstroke felt Schiller was simply stubbornly trying to realize his own value. After all, the situation at the entrance did not look like something one person could kill their way out of. Although Deathstroke had great confidence in himself, if Schiller insisted on doing this, it wasn't impossible, and he could later trade medicine to him in exchange for more intelligence.

By then, he had already seen that Schiller was running a high fever. This was a sign that his thermoregulatory system had completely spiraled out of control. And his fragile eardrums could no longer withstand the torture of that hand cannon. It would likely take only one more shot for him to go completely deaf, with little hope of recovery within a few days.

A loud "Bang!" signaled the start of the battle. Deathstroke charged out, brandishing his dual swords. This was supposed to be a one-sided massacre. He feared no bullets, his dual swords dancing in his hands; wherever he passed, a mist of blood followed, and the regular troops retreated steadily.

But the opposition was clearly not that simple. Soon, with a "Clang," one of the dual swords used to block bullets snapped in two. Deathstroke raised an eyebrow, rolled on the spot, and dodged the next bullet. There was a sniper to the north and another to the southeast, both using large-caliber anti-materiel sniper rifles. They certainly thought highly of him.

The opposition likely used special ammunition, because while his two swords were not forged from special metals, their strength was extremely high. The impact force might have caused his movements to pause slightly, but for them to snap directly, someone had definitely tampered with something.

Just in the moment of hesitation, the soldiers immediately surrounded his flank. Deathstroke swept his peripheral vision across the scene, and the moment he reached back to draw his greatsword, he saw those soldiers falling at an unnatural speed.

The speed of another figure was even more unusual. After watching for three seconds and judging based on his years of tactical experience, Deathstroke was more willing to believe he had seen a ghost.

Generally speaking, heavy-armored warriors with larger builds are not very fast. If they are also holding a massive longsword, they are easily perceived as clumsy. Deathstroke had used this common misconception to decapitate who knows how many people. The greatest advantage of this strongest mercenary was that he was both big and fast. He possessed a tall build and an imposing magnitude, yet at the same time, he was as nimble as a snake and as fast as a phantom.

Deathstroke thought he was already unscientific enough, but he hadn't expected there to be an even greater expert. People with muscles aren't necessarily fast, but people without muscles definitely can't be fast. Explosive power requires a large amount of muscle support. Schiller clearly did not have that muscle mass.

He looked relatively thin, not to the point of being unhealthy, but he didn't look like a warrior either. No one would doubt it if you said he was a desk clerk. His body structure simply couldn't support him in bursting out with such speed. But, hell, he was just as fast as a ghost.

Deathstroke didn't see what weapon he was using; in fact, he didn't need any weapon. This speed was no different from a moving train. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he was rammed and sent flying by this train.

"Oh, shit!" he cursed, rolled on the ground, and stood up. "Can you watch where you're going?!"

He raised his greatsword to block another sniper bullet. This time, the bullet was deflected directly, shooting into an enemy's chest. He cut down two more enemies before realizing that Schiller's state seemed a bit off.

Deathstroke opened his mouth to shout, but only then realized he didn't know what to shout. If he called him "Blue-skinned Dog" in this situation, he would have to go from a train to a high-speed rail.

"Stop!" Deathstroke shouted. But again, only after shouting did he remember that this guy should already be deaf. "God..."

Deathstroke already had a vague, bad premonition. He realized that some of the things Schiller had said earlier were not jokes. The truth is always hidden in the moth's antennae.

He swung his sword to clear the two people closing in. To be honest, these guys couldn't cause him any trouble now. He had to stop Schiller; he couldn't let him charge into the city.

Deathstroke was not a person who cared much about civilians, otherwise he wouldn't be a killer. Over the years, the number of innocents who had died at his hands was countless. But once the Egyptian authorities were alerted and they sent regular troops to hunt down this monster, causing a huge mess in the city, his mission might not be completed.

With a "Clang," he blocked another bullet. Deathstroke found these snipers the most annoying. The enemies in front were falling at an extremely fast speed, and this wasn't entirely his credit. Deathstroke would bet that at least three unlucky souls had been accidentally killed by snipers while they were aiming at Schiller.

Deathstroke judged the direction and prepared to solve the sniper problem first. But he underestimated the extent to which Schiller was indiscriminate between friend and foe. Just as he prepared to disengage from the battlefield, the handle of that revolver smashed into his shoulder.

"Damn it!" Deathstroke couldn't help but let out a curse. His scapula was definitely shattered; where did this guy get such great strength?!

He turned his head, kicked Schiller's arm away, and immediately reached out to grab his neck. But Schiller dodged with extreme agility and fired at Deathstroke's hand.

If it were an ordinary firearm, Deathstroke wouldn't even dodge. He was in full armor, with protective devices on the back of his hands and wrists. The stopping power of a large-caliber revolver was good, but at most, it would just make him stiffen; there was no need to dodge.

But this tank main gun was different. Deathstroke hurriedly raised his hand and gripped his greatsword. Only a "Clang—!!!!!" was heard, and both of them flew backward together.

After standing up, Deathstroke had a "seen a ghost" expression again. His sword!!!!

Of course, the sword didn't break. But the outer coating was completely ruined. Most importantly, he had still underestimated the power of this gun. Now his right hand was also shaken numb.

Schiller wasn't doing much better. Because the bullet had a homing function, it didn't reflect back onto him. But the airflow impact was deadly enough, directly flipping him onto the ground.

Good opportunity. Deathstroke picked up his sword and went up. He didn't want to hack Schiller, but he could take this opportunity to suppress him directly. Considering the difference in their builds and magnitude, this wasn't actually difficult.

But Deathstroke was still very cautious. He didn't use ground techniques directly, to prevent being counter-grappled by Schiller. Instead, he pressed his whole body forward with the greatsword in front of him. This could use gravity to suppress the opponent. The sharp blade also left no room for his limb skills to be displayed.

The consideration was good. But Deathstroke never expected that he would fly directly.

To be precise, Schiller threw him out. You have to know that Schiller was in a lying position on the ground. This wasn't a suplex or a shoulder throw. The opponent directly grabbed the arm he was holding the sword with, and then threw him aside with a side roll.

When Deathstroke stood up again, his mindset had undergone some small changes. Very well. I want to see which of us is the most violent machine!

He put the greatsword back on his back and lunged directly at Schiller, seemingly wanting to compete with him in ground skills. Who knew Schiller would roll away again, and then pull the sword off his back.

Deathstroke kicked as he turned. Schiller blocked with the sword, and Deathstroke finally realized what Schiller meant by not being good at any cold weapons. Simply put, he didn't treat this thing as a weapon with an edge at all, but completely as a fire poker. There was no technique, just smashing. Deathstroke didn't know whether to feel sorry for the sword's handle or the armor's coating first.

"Clang!!!" Another smash. Deathstroke couldn't bear it anymore and kicked Schiller's wrist. This forced him to abandon the greatsword, but he picked up that revolver instead.

Deathstroke knew he couldn't take it head-on this time. He rolled past his side and picked up his own sword. He had no time to check the state of the sword, turned around, and dodged another shot. Immediately after, it was bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

Deathstroke thought his weapon knowledge had gone wrong. Doesn't a Colt Python only have six bullets?! Bullet homing also takes time, right?!

Then he discovered that this great caster had actually equipped this cannon with an extra six bullets, and it had an automatic reloading function. In other words, as long as you can withstand the negative effects, you can fire this gun infinitely.

Deathstroke really wanted to curse. Are you afraid of a tank cannon that can strafe? Anyway, he was afraid. He rolled continuously on the ground to dodge, thinking he still had to disarm Schiller's gun.

He really found a good opportunity. A sniper bullet forced Schiller back. Deathstroke took the opportunity to slash with his sword, forcing Schiller into a corner. Then, the moment he raised the gun, he changed the slash into a smash. He smashed his sword onto Schiller's right arm. The power of this blow was not small. Schiller's right hand was directly dislocated, and the gun fell to the ground.

Before Deathstroke could breathe a sigh of relief, Schiller took advantage of the moment he retracted his sword to get behind him, and his left hand locked around his neck.

A neck-lock move like this cannot be used against an opponent with a large difference in magnitude. Because as long as the weight is sufficient, you can completely grab the opponent's arm and counter-throw them. Except for the initial moment that can restrict the opponent's actions, it's all bad.

But the problem is that the initial force was too great. Deathstroke almost heard the crack of his own spine. Another loud curse popped into his mind. He hurriedly threw Schiller forward.

Unfortunately, another sniper bullet came over at this time. Deathstroke had nowhere to hide, so he just tried his best to straighten his body, letting the bullet avoid vital points. With a "Bang," the high-power anti-materiel sniper rifle bullet penetrated the armor and the internal fiber layer, pierced through the left arm muscle, and was barely stuck on the bone.

Whether he was the most violent machine was not certain, but he was definitely the toughest. When Deathstroke pinned Schiller down, he still had time to let his mind wander. It looked like active thinking, but in reality, he had no other tricks.

As soon as he started to pin him down, he discovered that Schiller's strength seemed even greater than before. The strongest mercenary was so angry he laughed on the spot. Desk clerk is your lie. If I had known, I wouldn't have saved that anti-inflammatory medicine!

Deathstroke risked taking another bullet and managed to pin Schiller down for a second. Then he directly pulled a sedative from his waist and stabbed it into his neck. In the gap before the sedative took effect, he was flipped over again. Fortunately, Schiller finally quieted down in the end.

Deathstroke really wanted to turn around and leave. But the problem was, there were still two damn snipers aiming here. If he didn't take Schiller away, this shot would definitely wake him up. By then, he wouldn't be able to leave either.

In desperation, Deathstroke could only carry Schiller. After rushing onto the street, he cut down a lamppost with his sword, causing a riot, and then quickly disappeared into the crowd. ===== CHAPTER 4547 =====