The extreme cold began to spread like a spider's web, slightly affecting Greenberg's movements.
"Just now, on the first move, I used very high speed. How did you manage that?"
Greenberg was quite mired in frustration. That move was meant to cut open the mask, to see the true face, counting as a serious strike with the scythe, and it was a surprise attack.
He believed very few could block it, even those who could react to bullets wouldn't react to this. If relying solely on reflexes, then it's truly fierce.
Morison: "..."
He did not respond.
What Greenberg didn't know was that Morison's eyes could foresee the future, having already perceived his strategies. No matter how fast Greenberg was, there was always an insurmountable chasm.
The spreading chill permeated thin mist.
Greenberg swiftly retreated, leaping into the air to hurl a massive spinning scythe, fast as a phantom, with a crunch, directly cutting Morison in half, splitting him into two.
