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墨書 Inktalez
In the vast training ground, Mo Ming stood alone facing hundreds of new recruits, his face displaying an endless madness. He dashed across the field, throwing punches like falling stars, knocking down one recruit after another before they even had a chance to react.
Mo Ming's fists were as solid as a hammer; when he struck, it felt as if one had been hit by a hammer. Each punch targeted vital areas—temples, throats, ribs, ears, chins—landing blows that would severely weaken anyone who took them, even if they didn't completely lose their fighting capability.
There were too many recruits. Even though Mo Ming fought fiercely to avoid being surrounded, he still took several hits amidst the chaos. However, he remained vigilant against strikes to his vital areas, ensuring that no one could inflict any fatal damage on him.
This was a nearly frenzied contest. Mo Ming moved through the crowd of recruits, using his fists and legs as weapons to take down many physically capable newcomers. Any veteran present would have been overwhelmed in less than a minute by the sheer number of punches thrown, but Mo Ming managed to hold his ground.
With keen awareness and focus, Mo Ming listened and observed everything around him. When two recruits charged at him with their fists raised, he turned without hesitation to meet them. He leaped off the ground with a heavy kick, splitting his legs like scissors and striking both recruits in the chest.
The two recruits stumbled backward from the force. As Mo Ming landed, he supported himself with one hand and executed a sweeping kick that knocked another recruit down who had rushed in.
Without any hesitation after taking down the close recruit, Mo Ming quickly got back up. Sensing someone behind him attempting a flying kick, he agilely dodged and, as he brushed past the recruit, he expertly raised his knee and slammed it into the recruit's body.
The impact sent a jolt through the recruit's body, followed by a sharp pain that made him collapse to the ground, rolling in agony and unable to suppress his groans.
As several recruits fell, others rushed in to pursue. After dodging an attack from the nearest recruit, Mo Ming retaliated with two quick punches—his right fist struck the recruit's face and immediately followed with a left punch to the chin. Such attacks would incapacitate anyone momentarily, regardless of their resilience.
After taking down another recruit, more newcomers charged at Mo Ming like tigers descending from a mountain. He evaded several attacks with nimble footwork; however, there were simply too many punches coming at him. He was caught off guard and took a hard hit to the chest.
"Ha ha! Your punches lack power; they need to be as hard as mine to be effective!"
Mo Ming laughed instead of getting angry. The fearless glint in his eyes startled the nearby recruit. Without waiting for any reaction, Mo Ming dodged several recruits and leaped like a wild horse breaking free. He kicked one recruit away and then pushed off the ground again to kick another down upon landing.
When the recruit who had punched Mo Ming in the chest finally regained his senses, Mo Ming was right in front of him. The recruit attempted to throw a punch but found Mo Ming's fist appearing before his chest as if by magic. With a slight pause, Mo Ming's body shook as he unleashed a powerful short punch that sent the recruit tumbling backward.
It should be noted that during his time fighting in Africa, Mo Ming had once encountered a tiger and defeated it using only his bare hands—a true display of martial prowess. The force behind such punches could incapacitate someone without killing them.
Especially when using short punches that combined waist strength for greater impact; if an unprepared recruit was struck by such force, it was no surprise they would be knocked down.
Mo Ming continued to fight while searching for opportunities to deliver heavy blows to pursuing recruits. This was a strategy of defeating many with few; if one's strength was sufficiently overwhelming and they could evade being surrounded like dumplings in boiling water, then this guerrilla-style combat was highly effective.
Given that there were so many opponents, if they managed to encircle him completely, he would have no space to unleash his punches or kicks. Against hundreds with just himself alone—Mo Ming knew he lacked such raw power—but by relying on agile movements and swift attacks against many opponents at once, he could still prevail.
At this moment, the Feral Soul of the King of Soldiers shone the brightest, single-handedly resisting the siege of hundreds, relying on the vast playground to maneuver in battle. When he did not strike, he moved like a ghost; when he unleashed his fists and feet, no one could evade.
The Veterans who did not participate in the fight, along with the leader of the new recruits, King Yan, watched everything unfold. The unruly youth did not strike unless necessary, but when he did, it was to knock down his enemies.
Such strength is unparalleled wherever it is found. The arrogant King Yan began to ponder how long it would take him to reach such a level of power. Was this strength a peak he could never attain in his lifetime? Perhaps so.
Some things cannot be compensated for by effort. While there are many people in the world, truly outstanding talents are few and far between. It's not that everyone isn't trying hard enough; some talents seem to be innate. A person's fate appears to be predetermined by heaven. You can work hard and perhaps become a useful person, but not necessarily the strongest!
"This person's strength is probably greater than even the Slaughterer," a Veteran sighed.
The Slaughterer refers to Sikong Zhenghao, who came to pick someone up that day. He enjoys a high reputation among the Veterans because when he first arrived at this special forces unit, Sikong Zhenghao was silent and bullied. However, after a terrifying outburst, no one dared to bully him again.
That time, Sikong Zhenghao single-handedly took down more than fifty fellow Special Forces members. After that incident, he earned the title of Slaughterer.
But what unfolded before him now was truly shocking: a single person, seemingly no older than twenty-five, managed to hold out for a full seven minutes against overwhelming odds. If it were anyone he knew, they would likely have failed.
Another Veteran nodded dumbly: "Yes, I finally understand what it means that there are people beyond people and heavens beyond heavens. The Slaughterer seems terrifying to us, but this person before us is even more fearsome. He is not part of the Special Forces; otherwise, perhaps the myth of Asura would have been ended by him."
Asura is not only a code name but also a milestone of the Special Forces era—a representation that breaks past glories and blocks future myths!
The Veterans present, whether old or new recruits, may regard Asura as their goal and idolize him. However, very few know the true identity of Asura. If they had known beforehand that Mo Ming was Asura, they might have felt some fear in their hearts.
"Who exactly is this person? Why is his strength so terrifying?" King Yan chuckled self-deprecatingly as he looked down at his flattened hands. He then clenched them into fists and tightened his face: "I once prided myself on my strength enough to surpass Veterans and even the Slaughterer. Now I find that so laughable!"
Perhaps King Yan's strength was indeed enough to be arrogant about, but today he encountered someone who had absolute confidence and power years ago—War God Asura. His defeat was already destined; however, if he chose not to sink today, perhaps one day he too could reach another peak!
Watching Mo Ming run around the training ground while taking down isolated new recruits—one or four at a time—Mo Zhentian felt an indescribable pride swell within him. This was his son; from the moment Mo Ming chose this path, he had been relentless and had created countless legends!
"This child is truly stubborn. After retiring from service, he fell into despair and gave up on himself. At that time, I thought his life was over. But later on, he embarked on a new journey alone, gathering others' strength to establish his own organization to accomplish tasks he had previously failed to achieve!"
Mo Zhentian's eyes held traces of comfort. Who says only mothers are good? A father's love is heavy yet warm; it may not seem gentle but quietly offers care and concern for every move you make. As a soldier, Mo Zhentian loves his country and cherishes his family.
After Mo Ming retired from service, Mo Zhentian had people keep an eye on him. If Mo Ming continued to sink without awakening, he would appear to give him a wake-up call—both verbally and physically.
"Brothers, this young man's strength is truly terrifying. If we rush in one by one, we'll definitely be taken down one after another. Let's not be hasty and charge in alone; instead, let's slowly form a surrounding circle to reduce his movement space. In the end, he won't be able to move at all!"
A new recruit, having witnessed countless comrades being taken down, quickly came to his senses. He realized that this person's physical abilities and strength were far beyond theirs. If they really charged in one by one, he could probably take on hundreds!
The recruits, now red-eyed with anger, also became more alert upon hearing this. A few who were about to charge forward immediately slowed their pace, waiting for their companions to catch up.
"Well, it seems you've finally got some brains after all this fighting, but it might be too late!"
Mo Ming smirked wickedly and turned to sprint towards a two-meter-high flat-roofed shed at the edge of the training ground. This was a storage room for equipment that covered about twenty-five square meters.
Before the fight started, Mo Ming had already noticed this small shed. During what seemed like a chaotic run, he was actually moving closer to it because he understood that if he got surrounded, he wouldn't even have space to fight back.
"Don't let him get on the rooftop!" A few recruits noticed Mo Ming's intentions and shouted immediately.
Unfortunately, they reacted too late. With Mo Ming's speed, they couldn't catch up. He swung his arms vigorously and sprinted towards the shed. As he neared the wall of the building, Mo Ming jumped up and kicked off the wall twice to gain height, grabbing firmly onto the edge of the rooftop with both hands. With a powerful push from his waist and arms, he pulled himself up.
Once on the rooftop, Mo Ming sighed in relief as he looked down at the recruits rushing towards him like wild wolves. He waved his hand provocatively and laughed, "So you want to use numbers against me and even try to surround me? That's not fair! Hehe, now it's your turn—if you have what it takes, come up here together! I'll be waiting for you!"
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