Tokyo: My superpowers are updated every week

His thick neck looked like a ball of twisted steel bars, revealing terrifying muscle curves.

Sting looked at the Oriental man kneeling in the living room, scratched his head and asked, "Where is Muhammad?"

This sentence was spoken in Japanese, a little haltingly.

He didn't understand Japanese very well and only had time to learn this sentence, and he couldn't understand Japanese either.

But he was not worried about communication problems. The Secret Service's customized headphones could transmit the sound to his companions, and the translator who was fluent in Japanese could tell him clearly what the Oriental man in the room said at the same time.

Matsuki Kinjiro shook his head and said, “I don’t know, that weird man just told me to stay here and not move.

He even killed my family.

In front of me, he tore my mother, wife, and daughter apart bit by bit with his hands, just like tearing paper.

He even tore off my thumb!"

At the end of his words, Matsugi Kinjiro could no longer hold back the fear in his heart. He shouted and raised his right hand. His thumb had long disappeared, and there was only a white oval bandage wrapped around it.

"Ahhh!"

Sting ignored his screams of collapse, glanced around, raised his head and said, “Mohamrad, I know you must be in this mansion.

Stop hiding, what's the point?"

As he spoke, he bent down, broke off the corpse's toes, and threw them at Matsugi Kinjiro who was shouting in front of him.

In his hands, a person's toes are the bullets that take their lives.

Bang, blood spurted out of Matsuki Kinjiro's heart and he fell backwards, unable to make any sound anymore.

The explosion that Sting had imagined did not happen, and he frowned slightly. He thought that this man had already been turned into a bomb by Muhammad.

Zizi! A sharp sound was heard, and Sting's face changed. He immediately guessed that his companion was in trouble, and quickly turned around and ran outside.

……

Sting ran out of the mansion and stopped in the corridor.

The moonlight is beautiful tonight, and a head suddenly pops up from the top of the wall bathed in moonlight.

His long golden hair fluttered in the air, his cheeks had lost their color, and blood was oozing out from his neck.

Sting stood there, his hands clenched into fists, veins bulging in his arms and neck.

He has been working with Kano for some years. They are not only colleagues and friends, but also have close and in-depth exchanges.

It's just that Kano is a non-marriage person and is bisexual, so he has never agreed to Sting's pursuit.

"Mohammad!"

He growled, crushed the wooden planks of the corridor with his feet, and fell down, standing on the ground.

A tall figure climbed over the wall and entered the yard.

The man had a crew cut and a dark but not black complexion, and he didn't have a single beard on his face.

"Don't talk nonsense, just do it."

Muhammad shook the blood off his hands and said expressionlessly: "After I deal with you, I still have to welcome the next wave of customers."

"You are really rampant!"

Sting laughed in anger, stepped out of the hole, walked to the corridor, stared at Muhammad in front of him, "It seems that you have forgotten how I chased you around before.

Is the death of your subordinates making you dizzy?"

Muhamrad did not say anything, but stretched out his right hand in a gesture of competing in strength.

Sting smiled, he was quite confident in his grip, an unopened box of playing cards.

He only needed to pinch it between his thumb and index finger to break off a piece, making the entire box of cards missing.

Not to mention the human body.

Any flesh and blood would become as soft as the yellow mud after a heavy rain if pinched by his two fingers, and the bones inside would be as crispy as Lays potato chips.

He can even boast that he is the man with the strongest grip in the United States.

If Muhammad competed with him in other aspects, he might have a chance of winning, but he simply chose grip strength.

That's really asking for death.

Sting strode towards Muhamrad, and did not simply believe that the other party wanted to compete with him in grip strength.

He had been on guard against the other party's conspiracy, and at this moment his huge and heavy body took the light steps of a large cat.

It looks like he is strolling leisurely in the garden, but in fact he can launch a thunderous attack at any time.

Muhammad did not move, one hand still in his pocket and his right hand stretched forward.

He wasn't worried about Sting making any sneak attacks.

A man like this also has pride in his heart, that is, pride in strength, such as his belief in Allah.

Sting's faith is his armor-like muscles, and such faith means he will not resist any grip strength competition.

……

The distance between the two people continued to narrow.

When they were at the right range, Sting grabbed Muhammad's right hand with his right hand and grinned, "You're done!"

As he spoke, his five fingers burst out with powerful grip.

Even if it was steel, at this moment, he had the confidence that he could flatten it into a sheet as thin as a playing card.

Even though Sting was using his right hand to hit him hard, there was no reaction on Muhammad's face.

Blue veins appeared on his palms and arms. Sting gritted his teeth and let out a low roar like a tiger's roar.

Even so, Muhammad's expression did not change. He clenched his right hand and shouted, "Your brute force is nothing in my eyes."

As he finished speaking, Sting could feel his right hand whining; his muscles, bones, and even nerves were reminding him.

My strength is far inferior to that of the man in front of me.

After discovering this, Sting had no fear in his heart.

As a martial artist, he only has a small space under his feet, but he has a broad world in his heart.

Once a dispute arises, life or death may be decided in a matter of seconds.

Instead of wasting extra time dwelling on fear, it is better to fight to the end with all your might.

Sting twisted his waist, used his left foot as a fulcrum, clenched his left hand into a fist, and swung it like a flying hammer towards Muhamrad's face.

Muhamrad suddenly raised his right hand, and Sting, who weighed nearly 300 pounds, flipped in the air like a child's toy. His left fist naturally missed, and a right foot suddenly enlarged rapidly in his eyes, leaving him no chance to dodge.

boom!

A dull voice sounded.

At the critical moment of life and death, Sting chose to hit Muhamrad's feet with his hard forehead.

It avoided the outcome of having both eyes kicked out by this person, but it also caused a slight shock to the brain.

Muhamrad did not miss this brief opportunity. He grabbed his right arm again and lifted him up.

The left hand reaches forward like an eagle claw.

With a slight "hiss" sound, Muhamrad's left hand was already pinching the pale throat bone, mixed with blood and skin, exuding a kind of enchanting beauty.

"Ho ho."

Blood welled up in Sting's throat and his eyes widened.

His turbulent brain calmed down at this moment, and it was at this moment that he realized that Muhammad had not been using his full strength.

why?

Sting was no longer able to ask this question.

Even though my throat was torn open and wind kept rushing in, I felt suffocated and couldn't breathe.

His huge body began to stagger, as if a man had drunk more liquor than he could tolerate.

Muhammad loosened his grip.

Sting could no longer stand, and he fell backwards with a thud on the ground. Blood flowed out of his throat, flowing through his neck and quickly forming a pool of blood on the ground.

The bubbles that popped up from time to time proved that Sting still had a breath.

"Your tenacious vitality that does not match your strength is truly pathetic. This is also the punishment bestowed upon you by Allah."

Muhammad watched this scene and turned around to greet the next wave of guests.

According to his calculations, the CIA group that attacked him at noon would not miss this opportunity.

Sting was just an unexpected visitor.

Let him vent his anger a little, the real target is still that group.

Muhammad walked out of the yard.

Under the moonlight, the air vibrated invisibly, and a tall blond figure suddenly appeared and stood on the ground.

The air at the scene instantly became tense.

The fair skin, strong body and the appearance beyond the imagination of ordinary people made Muhammad stunned on the spot. Then a strong excitement appeared on his face and he growled: "Dio, I finally see you."

Chapter 298: Comparing Superpowers with Martial Artists

Unlike the task force that needed transportation to get to the scene, Qingze could get there immediately with just a thought.

So, he had already arrived here and watched Sting's unilateral slaughter of the Matsuki Group without any intention of stopping it.

Qingze had no intention of stopping Muhammad's actions.

In Qingze's eyes, the CIA is not a good thing either.

He stood by and watched the clash between the two martial arts monsters with an indifferent attitude.

Only after the two sides had decided the winner did Qingze decide to show up and finish the fight.

"Dio, I finally see you."

Listening to the string of English words coming out of Muhammad's mouth, Qingze fell silent. He never slacked off in learning English. It can be said that he worked very hard and his English grades were also good.

However, the English level of high school students is far from enough to communicate with foreigners in English without difficulty.

It can be said that if he reads those English words separately and slowly, he can still understand their meaning.

Put them together and speak at this speed.

He thought about it for a moment, then gave up thinking about what the man said. He raised his right hand, and dark mist emerged from his fingertips.

This is the late stage of osteoporosis.

"Dio, I have no hostility towards you. On the contrary, we should have the same goal. You also hate those corrupt people in power.

If we want to change the world, it will be useless no matter how many puppets we defeat!

As long as the corrupt order at the top doesn't collapse, there will be no change in this world!"

Muhamrad loudly told Dio what was in his mind. In his opinion, there was room for cooperation between him and Dio.

Both sides have a common enemy, so there is no need to fight.

"Your appearance and existence are by no means accidental, everything is guided by Allah!"

He wanted to convince the other party, but he only saw indifference on Dio's face, and his eyes did not have a trace of human emotion.

Pitch-black mist gushed out from the white fingertips.

A sense of danger emerged in his heart. Muhamrad stopped talking and quickly moved to the side to avoid the black fog.

Unexpectedly, the black fog seemed to have life and chased after him.

Muhamrad had no idea what the black fog was, but he knew it was definitely not a good thing. He thrust his toes downwards and kicked up a large piece of the ground like a knife stabbing tofu.

A large amount of soil and grass flew around like rain falling in the black fog, without any pause, drifting to the ground.

The black fog is really just fog and has no substance.

Muhammad saw this scene, retreated again, and shouted, "Dio, are you willing to just do such a small fight?