Son-In-Law Madness

Chapter 941 Good To Be Alive

Bam!

Initially convinced his kick would surely find its target, Berthold was taken aback when Donald unexpectedly blocked the strike.

Recovering swiftly, Berthold promptly followed up with another punch.

Bam!

Donald managed to block it again!

A sense of dread engulfed Berthold's heart, an immediate realization dawning upon him that something was awry.

How is this possible? His movements seemed so slow. How could he manage to parry my own strikes twice in succession?

Perplexed by the situation, Berthold refrained from hastily launching yet another assault. Instead, he opted to create some space between himself and Donald.

Having failed to connect with his attacks twice, it became evident that Donald's reflexes far surpassed Berthold's initial estimations. Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

In such a situation, Berthold recognized that swiftness alone wouldn't suffice for victory, as if he were contending with an ordinary individual. Instead, he had to employ more strategies to overcome Donald's defenses.

Consequently, at this juncture, Berthold observed Donald intently, endeavoring to discern any vulnerabilities that might be exploited.

Ironically, ignorance was bliss. Upon closer examination of his opponent, Berthold found himself grappling with existential contemplations.

Confronting his own exceedingly aggressive and potent kickboxing technique, he was astounded to witness Donald adopting a boxing stance.

A sense of belittlement suddenly washed over Berthold. He addressed Donald in a resolute tone, “Are you intending to combat me with boxing?”

Donald replied with nonchalance, “Boxing is more than sufficient for our encounter. I fear that employing Freeform Fist might result in your demise.”

Arrogant! This kid is way too arrogant! While uncertain about the source of Donald's audacity to converse in such a manner, Berthold exercised caution, opting to activate his forcefield at that very instant.

The moment Berthold's force field materialized, Donald promptly detected that something was amiss.

Although they both appeared to be adapting their movements, Donald discerned a noticeable acceleration in Berthold's pace.

Is it my own illusion, or has he really quickened his pace under the influence of the force field?

In the midst of Donald's perplexity, Berthold executed yet another whip-like kick, targeting Donald's head.

Reacting instinctively, Donald lifted his hand for defense. However, just as he was poised to effectively repel the impending strike, Berthold's leg abruptly contorted mid-air, altering its trajectory to directly target Donald's lower leg.

The velocity of Berthold's deceptive kick proved overwhelmingly swift. To such an extent that Donald lacked the time to reblock it, ultimately succumbing to the full impact of the leg whip.

Without giving Donald a chance to adjust, Berthold executed yet another move—a flying knee directed squarely at Donald's face.

Should Donald bear the brunt of this flying knee, he would inevitably be confronted with another onslaught of Berthold's combination punches.

Fortunately, Berthold's assault was swift, and Donald's response time proved equally agile.

Upon realizing that Berthold could continuously change direction and tactics in mid-air, Donald chose not to exert his complete strength during each block. Instead, he conserved energy to counteract Berthold's capricious maneuvers.

The two combatants seemed to have engaged their accelerators in unison, their exchange of attacks and defenses transpiring at a speed so rapid that observers struggled to keep pace with their eyes.

Ultimately, after more than three minutes of unbroken combat, the two of them separated, maintaining a distance from one another.

Sporting a derisive countenance, Berthold addressed Donald with a taunting tone, “What happened to your boxing? Seems like it's lost its efficacy.”

Berthold's confidence was well-founded. Inside his established force field, Berthold's attack potency and nimbleness were substantially heightened. What's more, he could harness his mental power to anchor himself twice.

He appeared to be soaring in the air, clearly without any anchorage. Yet, at his volition, he could modify his trajectory mid-flight as though propelled by an invisible force or intensify his offensive velocity.

Berthold's tactics exuded an element of unpredictability that rendered defense an arduous task.

This was also why he could become a divine-stage Octo Stella Warrior, predicated solely on his physical prowess.

Donald flexed his wrist with a fluid motion, expelling a sigh as he remarked, “Isn't it good to be alive? Why insist on courting death by provoking me? Since you're so eager for a beating, then by all means, make your move.”