In the cold rain, Oscar brandished a long sword and a short axe. His body, anesthetized by alcohol, was extremely swift. His breathing was steady, as if he was having a grand ball. He danced with the demons, and blood kept falling like a red dress being taken off, merging with the accumulated water.
"This... this is called a writer?"
Buscaro yelled. The drunkard who was toasting with him just a few minutes ago was now as strong as a god of war. He once doubted whether he had seen it wrong, but from the other party's weird tone and expression, he knew that he was Oscar.
"That's not a conflict! Buscaro."
Oscar was not as relaxed as Buscaro thought. His attacks were very rhythmic. He took breaks to catch his breath and recover his strength. After all, he was no longer young and his body was poisoned by alcohol.
"Inspiration will eventually run out, and writers also need to go out and get materials!"
He bent down and chopped the demon's calf joint with an axe. The blow directly tore the muscles and bones, causing the demon to half-kneel down.
"But going out to collect materials requires not only money, but also the ability to survive."
Oscar let out bursts of hoarse laughter, which usually sounded like the ramblings of a drunkard, but now it sounded like the roar of a tiger.
The long sword blocked the falling claw, but he did not block it head-on. Instead, he let the long sword rest on his body and used his whole body as support to block the claw, causing it to fall diagonally downward.
The demon swung with all its might, and it was difficult for it to contain its force, which gave Oscar the opportunity to attack.
"I have been lost in a winter forest, and I have sailed out to sea in a lone boat!"
He stepped on the demon's back. The heavy rain soaked everything, but it did not shake his steps. He stepped firmly on the ground as if it were cast in iron, and then took another step closer.
"It's a pity that the stories written are not popular."
Oscar sighed, and brought down his short axe, chopping fiercely at the back of the demon's neck.
Blood and flesh splattered, Oscar swung with all his strength, and he felt his arm was numb from the shock... It might also be the effect of alcohol, he really drank too much just now.
"I'm getting old," Oscar sighed at the bloody mess under him, "When I was young, I could have broken it with my fist."
He should have continued to swing, but Oscar was indeed old, his breathing was becoming increasingly disordered, and the alcohol poisoning and the coldness of the heavy rain were also affecting him.
The demon struggled hard and threw Oscar off his body. He fell into the water, looking very miserable.
The water level was already very high, and it looked like the entire Old Dunling would soon turn into the sea. Oscar choked on a few mouthfuls of water, which tasted terrible.
A shrill cry sounded, the demon shouted and smashed down with its sharp claws, its scarlet arms were like a red sword. At this critical moment, Buscaro grabbed Oscar's collar and dragged him out of the attack range.
"Weren't you very powerful just now? Why did you fall down now?"
Buscaro roared, the gap in his heart was extremely huge. He thought the drunkard was a top master hidden in the city, but who would have thought that he would be defeated after a few rounds of aggressive attacks.
But to be honest, Buscaro really believed Oscar's lies. Although he was in a miserable state now, at that moment just now, he did feel that kind of fearless momentum, as if Oscar had really been like that.