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— enough to rip the other’s jaw clean off, whilst electrocuting him with the condensed power flowing through one of America’s tallest structures.

Regardless of the outcome, he would stand still, and take a deep breath;〝 Yeah, nobody wants to die. 〞

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— dangerously close, he made an executive decision— he could afford to be hit, in order to retaliate effectively.

After all, how badly could a car injure him?

It was time to find out.

Mo-Ri feinted a direct hit upon his person, allowing a Dodge Charger to catch —

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— outclassed he had been once the Original body of the fearsome Monkey King made his appearance.

〝 Well, no matter. 〞He carefully worked his way through the cars that were pouring upon him, until, finally, an opportunity arose.

As the last of the vehicles grew —

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— back to the way from whence he came, much to Mo-Ri’s surprise.

〝 What the—?! 〞 exclaimed-he, as he dodged the charred body of the boss of Passione that had come hurtling back to him with a graceful side-step.

〝 Is this dude some kind of boomerang...?! 〞

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— only to skip across the Hudson River, and crash into the Oscorp Building.

The shockwave created by this single kick would be enough to lift cars, and make the sea look as it did in the midst of an all-consuming storm.

. . . It would, of course, cause the entire —

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— shook the heavens more times than he could count.

Before the Devil could even realize what had happened, Jin’s leg carved a clean path through the air, in order to connect with the right side of the other’s body, thus sending him barreling through entire blocks, —

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— and with a simple command, a few of them were sucked into the confines of his apocryphal, personal prison.

〝 Alright, well, time for us to head back, Geunwoodun. 〞

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— to its owner, so he simply left it on a nearby table.

The King spun upon his heels, only to be met with a library filled to the brim with book containing ancient knowledge, and forbidden history.

〝 Well, that might come in handy.. 〞He prompted his gourd forward, —

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— simply dodging.

He clenched his free hand into a fist, and as his knuckles turned white, he manifested a glimpse of his true strength by delivering a punch towards the other’s cheek.

Whether it landed, or it missed didn’t matter. This was naught but a feint. —

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— against it.

Until proven to be wrong, he assumed that the use of his tools would be, simply-put, unfair for the Hound.

After what would seem like an instant to the untrained eye, he ducked below the intial slash, and instead of backing away to safety, —

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