"Crow Sits on an Airplane!"
Afu's furious roar, the first to react, sounded like a war drum, heralding the start of this duel.
His figure was as agile as a leopard. A powerful high-altitude flying kick aimed straight for Victor's face, its leg wind sharp and fierce, carrying the resolve to kill his prey in one strike.
Victor, however, acted as if he had encountered a butterfly merely greeting him during an afternoon stroll. Unhurried, he casually pulled out the pilfered Ming Dynasty blue-and-white porcelain vase from the nearby cleaning cart and lightly held it up in front of himself as a shield.
The motion was so natural, as if this priceless antique were a shield he always carried with him.
"Watch your feet! My antique!"
Valmont's scream instantly shifted pitch, sharp enough to pierce eardrums.
The corner of Afu's mouth twitched violently. He forcibly twisted his body mid-air, and the flying kick infused with all his strength narrowly grazed past the edge of the vase.
He stumbled upon landing, almost losing his balance, his face turning green with frustration.
"Idiot! Forget that stupid vase! The talismans! My talismans!!"
Holy Lord on the wall was so enraged that his stone body buzzed with vibration, wishing he could personally step in and incinerate these useless fools along with that little thief using his dragon breath.
"State your name!"
Afu took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing his churning energy, assumed a starting stance, and crooked a finger at Victor, trying to regain some semblance of a master's demeanor.
Victor blinked, his face showing a look of sudden understanding that seemed to say, "Oh, so we're doing this part." He then straightened his posture and declared in a tone almost as solemn as reciting poetry:
"The Black Cat Rore, an elegant phantom thief."
He even casually straightened a non-existent bow tie.
"The Black Cat Rore? I am The Black Tiger Afu!"
Afu narrowed his eyes, his killing intent coalescing once more.
"Prepare to die!"
Before the words faded, Afu moved again, swift as a fleeing hare!
"This is the Praying Mantis Fist!"
"This is the Snake Step!"
"This is the Lotus Float!"
"This is the Scorpion Palm!"
With each technique name he shouted, he unleashed a corresponding fierce attack—fists, feet, elbows, knees—a relentless onslaught, attempting to overwhelm his opponent with dazzling skills and imposing names.
Victor's figure drifted unpredictably. He sidestepped, blocked, or lightly retreated, always evading the core force of the attacks by a hair's breadth, his movements relaxed and effortless.
The expression on his face grew increasingly peculiar, shifting from initial confusion to a kind of fascinated interest, as if he had discovered a new toy.
"Hey, I gotta say—"
Victor complained internally to Venom.
"This guy comes with his own fight commentary? Talk about ceremony! His combat power might be average, but the entertainment value is top-notch!"
Venom formed a small mouth on his shoulder, hissing a low laugh:
"Definitely more fun than watching those boring TV shopping channels. Let him shout more. I'll memorize it for future fights. Sounds pretty intimidating."
Victor wholeheartedly agreed.
Although, with his current Venom-enhanced physique, he could seriously take down Afu in a few moves, he suddenly felt a bit reluctant to do so.
He wanted to see how many bizarre and exotic technique names this clown could come up with.
Also, the feeling of using his own basic attacks to counter the opponent's ultimate moves gave him an inexplicable sense of 'extremely cost-effective' satisfaction.
Afu, however, grew more frustrated and increasingly alarmed with each passing moment.
He poured his all into every move, roaring until his voice was hoarse, yet his opponent didn't even seem out of breath, dodging and blocking with ease. Not only did he not call out any techniques, he didn't even bother with a proper expression.
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