MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 964: Boxer

Kingsley’s body collapsed against a mountain, then tore straight through it as though it were nothing more than brittle clay, then crashed violently into another, then upon a hill, before finally coming to a brutal stop at the base of yet another mountain, the peak trembling and shaking violently from the residual force as Kingsley’s body struck there with overwhelming momentum.

Kingsley didn’t know the amount of blood he had lost at this point, nor could he comprehend the amount of time he had spent injured and regenerating in an endless, torturous cycle. He had been torn to pieces and shredded apart, then stitched back together as though reality itself rejected the damage, as though it had never happened at all, as though his suffering had been erased and rewritten over and over again.

His mouth opened as he vomited a thick mouthful of blood, the metallic taste coating his tongue, his throat searing in pain as though cruelly reminding him that he had never been injured to this extent since the very moment of his birth.

Kingsley’s right hand rose slowly as he placed it against his chest, and for a fleeting moment his heart had almost stopped beating entirely, Anthony’s attack having blown the lower half of it away in a grotesque explosion of flesh and bone, yet his heart still beat stubbornly and regenerated with unnatural persistence.

He didn’t need to be told anything, he knew he had only survived because Anthony was holding back, just like how his brain had been damaged but not fully destroyed and was deliberately allowed to regenerate, and although he possessed a ridiculous physique that bordered on monstrous, he understood deep within himself that the Martial Rhythm could still tear through him like paper.

’My essence has never been this ravaged,’ he thought to himself as he tried to rise to his feet, injuries stitching together with faint, sickening sounds, bones snapping back into place with sharp cracks, flesh knitting itself together, muscles reconnecting, his heart regenerating back to peak condition as though it had never been obliterated in the first place.

Kingsley gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached, ’I better awaken this damn Martial Rhythm,’ he thought to himself, because he had taken so much of a beating already, and he knew with chilling certainty that more was still coming. His golden eyes shifted forward to the position he had just left, assuming Anthony would still be standing there.

But Anthony wasn’t there, Anthony stood directly in front of him, the distance between them less than a meter, Kingsley’s eyes widening in pure, instinctive shock as his breath nearly stopped, Anthony had been standing right before him the entire time, so close, yet he sensed absolutely nothing as though Anthony had never existed there to begin with, and if he hadn’t raised his gaze at that exact moment, he might have completely missed him.

But before he could move even a fraction, Anthony moved first, his fist connecting with Kingsley’s chest in a detonating blast that sounded like thunder splitting the air, Kingsley’s chest caving inward violently before exploding outward, fragments of blood and bone scattering, his body jerking backward as it slammed into the mountain once more, the momentum and force transferring into the mountain itself, yet, strangely, the mountain remained standing as though something invisible held it firmly in place.

Anthony didn’t wait for Kingsley to catch his breath or regain balance, he followed up instantly with another attack, a left hook to the chin that made the wind explode upward and outward in a violent surge, but inertia didn’t dare act as though even physics itself feared interfering. Anthony’s hand caught Kingsley by the neck, pulling him forward slightly, his knee tearing upward before thundering against Kingsley’s rib cage with bone-crushing force.

Anthony didn’t stop, the next moment he seemed to turn into a boxer, he hopped lightly for a moment, his feet shuffling across the ground with clean precision as his hands tore into Kingsley ceaselessly as though he were nothing more than a worn punching bag meant to endure endless punishment.

A right hook to the temple, a left hook to the chest, followed up with a right jab to the sternum, then a left cheek hook connected cleanly, lead and rear uppercuts followed in rapid succession, a corkscrew punch detonated outward with spiraling force, then a headbutt tore forward and crashed against Kingsley’s cranium, followed immediately by an overhand right, then an overhand left, each strike heavier and more merciless than the last.

Kingsley’s body kept rebounding against the mountain, each time the force of Anthony’s attack tore him backward his back would slam into the mountain base and then rebound forward again, his body meeting Anthony’s next attack in endless succession as though they had entered some twisted form of loop, but the constant variations within Anthony’s strikes made it clear that this wasn’t repetition, it was calculated, evolving brutality.

Kingsley’s body screamed in pain, agony, aches, soreness, suffering, distress, and angst all at once, flesh from his body scattering and striking against the earth around his feet, blood pouring and pooling downward in dark red streams, his body seeming to enter an overdrive cycle of destruction and rebirth, of injury and regeneration, of collapse and restoration.

His body desperately tried to keep up with the destruction and madness as Anthony even tore through his muscles to such an extent that his skeleton could be seen briefly through the gore before regeneration covered the bones again in layers of muscle and flesh, reconstructing him over and over like a grotesque miracle.

But regardless of all of this, Anthony didn’t stop, every single attack was powered by the Martial Rhythm, each movement flowing into the next with absolute perfection, he had already warned Kingsley that he would have to endure pain like never before, and all he could do now was attack and attack without mercy until Kingsley’s body adapted, it was entirely up to Kingsley to remain conscious throughout the brutal process.

Jab, double jab, triple jab, power jab, flicker jab, Anthony seemed to unleash every type of jab within the art of boxing with frightening mastery. He shifted seamlessly between boxing steps and movement techniques, linking them to each strike in perfect synchronization as though he were the very inventor and creator of boxing itself, and with the sheer madness he was unleashing, he might as well have been.

Then finally, with a rocketing punch that detonated straight into Kingsley’s chest like a cannon blast, the mountain finally collapsed, stones and boulders raining down like a landslide, Kingsley’s body tearing completely through the mountain as it shattered apart into countless fragments.

Anthony stared at the raining stones and falling boulders but didn’t move even an inch, there was no need to, because the moment some reached him they froze midair as Infinity had already activated, shielding him effortlessly.

Even Kingsley’s blood that pooled beneath his feet didn’t soak his boots, the flesh torn off Kingsley’s body didn’t even brush against him, although all his punches and attacks connected perfectly, nothing from Kingsley’s body touched him at all as though that in itself was sacrilege, as though reality refused to allow such contact.

A hazing dust storm swirled around him violently as he remained exactly where he was, unmoving and silent, as though he were deliberately giving Kingsley at least a moment of breathing room, after all, no matter how ridiculous Kingsley’s body was, if pushed too far to the extreme it might either shut down entirely or make a breakthrough, but Anthony wasn’t here to tamper with Kingsley’s physique beyond necessity.

Through the swirling haze of dust and debris, although his body couldn’t be seen clearly, his bright sky-blue eyes shone as clear as day, glowing faintly through the storm like a predator’s gaze in the dark, like a tiger hunting patiently within the night.