Puzzle Madness

Chapter 124 Navel and Sword

A newborn baby wrapped in a scarlet Taoist robe—it lay on the ground, saying nothing; as if in worship.

The [security guard] had half of his body almost leaning into the car, kicking his feet and raising his eyebrows:
"Oh, so it's this type—"

Squeak:
The newborn suddenly raised his head, and his face became as red as his Taoist robe; he looked like a clay statue.

The eyes were still crayon-drawn ovals and dots, simple and crude; but the dot in the center began to rotate within the circle, like a pair of real, gazing pupils.

It raised one hand—with its index and middle fingers raised and the other three fingers joined together, making a sword-like gesture:

Oh!

Two balls of red light lit up in the newborn's eye sockets. They were suspended flames.
The car's air conditioner was still working, but heat was rising rapidly in the car; the obese man supported himself on the ground with his elbows and moved back with difficulty.

The security guard, smiling broadly, leaned against the car window and commented; perhaps it was because there was a guy with a buzz cut between him and the newborn:

"Ouch! No fuel needed. It takes a bit long to prepare? But the temperature is okay."

Click!

Before he finished speaking, the buzz cut guy suddenly jumped up -
The pocket pistol in his right sleeve suddenly popped out and stuck into the palm of the buzz cut guy again:

His left hand, still raised in the air, suddenly slashed down and hit the [security guard's] arm - pinning down the other's hand with the gun still dangling from its fingers.

Ha-bah!
The buzz cut guy's cheeks puffed out, blood gushing from the wound in his mouth. He turned his head sharply, and as his left hand chopped down, blood spurted out.

The [security guard], still grinning, tilted his head slightly to let the blood mist pass over his face. With his other hand, he suddenly grabbed the miniature pistol the buzzcut man was aiming at, his finger digging into the guard and jamming the trigger, preventing it from moving.
"Stop it buddy, stop it."

But this also made him and the buzz cut guy fixed to the driver's seat:

boom!
Two streams of flames erupted from the newborn's eye sockets, merging in the middle to form a large ball of fire.
The buzz cut guy didn't let go, his arms locked tightly against the security guard. He hunched over, his chest pressed against his thighs, his hands nearly dislocated; his back was throbbing with burning pain.
The flames from the newborn's eyes passed over the top of the buzz cut boy and poured out of the car window.
The flames came and went quickly; the sparks on the steering wheel sizzled and burned a few small holes, and the back of the crew cut boy's suit was smoking -
The security guard, whose upper body was tilted in a bridge pose, bounced back to his feet: except for a scorched spot on the brim of his fisherman's hat, he was unharmed.

The [security guard] twisted the gun between his fingers, then tightened his grip and pulled the trigger.

Bang-bang!
Two bullets hit the shaved guy's foot and elbow respectively, splashing two spots of blood.

He twisted his arm and flipped it casually - with a crisp sound - the crew-cut boy's wrist bent to 90 degrees, and the bone stump pushed up the cuff of his suit.

The security guard straightened his right arm and lightly hit the crew cut boy's Adam's apple with the butt of the gun, blocking all the screams and cries of pain that he had not yet uttered.

Then he grabbed the miniature pistol from the crew cut guy's sleeve and threw it aside.
"I already told you I don't kill for free, so why are you trying to take advantage of me? Come on, I'll need your help later--oh my god!"

hum!
As he spoke, he suddenly lowered his head: an arc of shadow passed across the brim of his fisherman's hat, cutting off a piece of it.

Suddenly, the sun, which made my head hurt, poured into the car--
The top of the carriage was cut open, and the cut was smooth; it slid down silently and hit the ground with a "bang".

This Toyota Hiace suddenly turned into a "convertible"; there was no longer any shelter above the head.

The [security guard] raised his head again and saw the newborn baby with its mouth open in confusion, its crayon-drawn pupils rolling around.

A long red rope stretched out of the mouth--
Extending from its mouth was a powerful, slender, and bulging bundle of muscle; at the end of the bundle of muscle was the handle of an elegant Han sword - grayish-white in color, with a cold gleam at the edge:

Just now, it was this Han sword that swung out in a circular motion, splitting the upper half of the carriage.

This is like the flying sword technique described in fairy tales, but it looks crude and weird.
-
hum!
The Han sword and the long rope behind it twisted into shadows again, but the [Security Guard] disappeared from the car window first:

The blade pierced through the car window, pierced the concrete wall, scraped off a pile of plaster, and then retracted.

In the blink of an eye, the security guard crawled under the car and climbed in through the other window, hiding behind the obese man. The man's massive frame completely concealed the security guard.
Squeak:
The meat rope and the long sword stopped in mid-air, twisting into an arc and swaying from side to side like a living snake. It seemed to be concerned about the fat man's safety, just hanging in the air cautiously.

The confrontation lasted only a moment:
The [security guard] kneeled with his left leg muscles bulging, pushing his entire body to the right and sliding out from behind the obese man.

His already short body bent down even lower, appearing even shorter than a newborn baby without legs, supported on the ground.
hum!
Another sound:
A long scar emerged from the center of the van. The van was like a broken biscuit, split right in the middle:

The flying sword that emerged from the newborn's mouth followed the [Security Guard] like a shadow; its sharpness was unmatched, splitting the equipment into scattered scrap metal and whittling the Toyota Hiace into a pile of iron bars bit by bit.
The [security guard] grabbed the car door handle with his left hand and pulled it hard; his whole body spun on the ground like a roller skater, avoiding the path of the long sword.

With his left hand, he pulled out a dagger from his boot, held it in his reverse hand, and gently cut the paper [umbilical cord]:
click!
The long, narrow Han sword rested right beside his neck, its sharp edge slicing blood from the [security guard]—if it had gone deeper, it might have severed the carotid artery.

then
The Han sword began to shrink, like a piece of paper that had been left for too long and dried out; the newborn also became curled up and twisted.

The red color around it faded, and the cement gray soaked into its entire body again.

Like a deflated balloon: when the [security guard] blinked again, the newborn had shrunk into a pile of shredded paper; a gentle blow of hot wind scattered it away.

The [security guard] stood up and jumped around in the roofless car:
"The flaw is so obvious! This umbilical cord is hanging right here, so conspicuous? They're afraid others won't come and cut it off. It's really made of paper. I can only give it a one or two points for durability."

After a quick fight, the entire van was torn to pieces.

call.
The [security guard] scratched his nose with the handle of his dagger and exhaled:
"Hmm—but the lethality is still good. It feels okay."

"It's just that you two don't coordinate well. And in a small space like a van, why are you doing all the flamethrowing and cutting stuff?"

He stuck out his tongue and rolled it around:

"It would be better to just use your tongue to roll the person over like a frog and then shoot him dead."

No one answered [the security guard]. The guy with the buzz cut rolled around in the driver's seat, clutching his broken and shot arm; a strange gurgling sound came from his throat.

He could only shrug and turn to the fat man:
"Hey, can you give birth again now?"

The obese man looked at his companion in the driver's seat, shook his head, and wiped the sweat from his philtrum with his elbow.

The [security guard] rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled photo:

"I just looked it up—you can change a child's abilities by describing them, right? See if you can change your child into something like this?"

"Yeah, like a Superman who can't fly and whose eyes can't shoot lasers. Can you recreate that?"

Without the roof, the scorching sunlight poured down directly, reflecting off the photos.

But it's still clear - in the center of the photo is a teenager wearing a bright yellow raincoat. He's squeezed in among a group of his peers in school uniforms, and the raincoat makes him stand out.

The obese man shook his head again, wiping the sweat from his neck; the fat on his double chin trembled. He seemed to have no intention of resisting:
".I don't think so. I don't know what the restrictions are, but someone as powerful as Superman probably can't do it."

[Security guard] Nodding his nose. His eyes are covered by sunglasses, making it difficult to judge his emotions:
"Really? Maybe it's because you're not close enough to him. What about this? Can you try to align your image with this person? That should be possible, right?"

He rummaged around, pulled out another one, and thrust it in front of the fat man's face:

This time it was a girl in school uniform with a large burn scar on her cheek.

　I was editing until midnight, and was about to say, "Oops! Too tired to write anymore, let's just go home and sleep!" But just as I was about to turn off the computer, the KO Broly on top of my workbench suddenly fell down with a creaking sound. The Super Saiyan's hair was so spiky, his head was like a Morning Star hammer, and it gouged several bloody gashes on the back of my hand. I don't know who cursed me, but it scared me so much that I ended up squeezing in a chapter. Isn't that ridiculous?

　　
　
(End of this chapter)