Finally, the yellow-clad man’s voice cut off abruptly as the black shadow finished forcing its way into his body.
A moment later, the yellow-clad man opened his eyes. The whites were gone.
He moved his stiff body and opened his mouth, his voice rigid. "What powerful... spiritual will. It’s this damned Martial Dao Will again. I almost failed."
In the brick house on the mountaintop, the lights were bright, and the air was fragrant with wine and meat.
Ten shirtless men sat around a large table, drinking and shouting boisterously.
The table was laden with food and wine rarely seen on ordinary days: roasted chicken, braised meat, peanuts, and several open bottles of foreign liquor.
"Here, Brother-in-law! A toast to you!"
A young guard, his face wreathed in smiles, held his cup with both hands and respectfully offered a toast to the middle-aged man at the head of the table—none other than Brother Song from earlier that day.
"Without you looking out for me, Brother-in-law, how could I have landed such a great job!"
Brother Song roared with laughter, downed his cup in one go, and clapped the man on the shoulder. "HAHAHA, just work hard! Stick with your brother-in-law, and you’ll be well taken care of!"
"That’s right! That’s right!" several others nearby chimed in, scrambling to offer their own toasts.
"I wouldn’t trade this job to be the Emperor!"
"Exactly! These days, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, full of schemes and backstabbing. One wrong move and you’ll land in deep trouble."
"Up here on this mountain, we’re sheltered from the elements, we get our monthly pay on time, and we can even pocket some extra cash from the foreigners. We’re practically living like Immortals!"
"Hehehe, you’re not wrong! If it weren’t for connections, a cushy gig like this would never have fallen to us."
"Right, right! Nowadays, you need blood ties to get a good job! Outsiders? Don’t even think about it!"
"Hey, I’m gonna step outside to relieve myself."
A middle-aged guard, his face and neck flushed red from the alcohol, stood up unsteadily, pushed back his stool, and staggered toward the door.
"Go on, go on, you useless bum!"
Brother Song swore at him with a laugh and raised his cup. "Come on! Let’s keep drinking! Bottoms up!"
The men raised their cups with a roar of laughter, just as they were about to drain them.
"AHHH!!!"
A blood-curdling scream suddenly erupted from outside. Before anyone inside could react, it was followed by a continuous series of horrific cries.
"You motherfucker! It’s you, you madman! Ah! Why are you biting me?! My hand! My hand!!!"
At that moment, the ten men inside sobered up instantly. Brother Song’s expression changed dramatically as he dashed to the wall and snatched a rifle hanging there.
The others quickly reacted as well, grabbing their own weapons—long guns, short guns, and a couple of sharp machetes—before swarming out the door!
No one guarding Shuangfeng Gorge was a pushover; every one of them was highly skilled.
Brother Song himself was a true Dark Force master. After all, without that kind of strength, he wouldn’t be able to keep control of this mountain.
Outside, the moonlight was bleak. A few men held up oil lamps, their dim, yellow glow illuminating the clearing in front of the door.
Then everyone froze, until a young guard cried out in alarm, "Holy shit! Brother Biao! Where’s your right hand?"
On the ground, the middle-aged guard who had just gone to relieve himself was lying there, using his remaining left hand to prop himself up as he desperately scrambled backward.
His right arm was severed at the shoulder, leaving a shocking trail of blood on the ground.
Not far ahead stood a tall figure in a yellow tunic, a coarse cloth belt, and worn-out black cloth shoes. It was the madman from that day!
But his eyes were pitch black—no whites, no pupils, only a darkness that seemed to swallow all light.
The yellow-clad man was holding a bloody arm with both hands, his head lowered as he ravenously tore at it with his teeth.
Brother Biao watched, wide-eyed, as the monster bit off and swallowed chunks of his arm. His vision went black, and he nearly fainted.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!"
Then, Brother Biao gritted his teeth and got to his feet. He snatched the rifle from a comrade behind him, raised it, and wildly pulled the trigger on the monster!
Several bloody holes instantly burst open on the yellow-clad man’s chest and abdomen. The immense impact sent him flying backward, and he crashed heavily to the ground dozens of feet away.
The yellow-clad man lay on the ground, face-up, his pitch-black eyes wide with terror and confusion.
’Such... such a powerful technique!’
’How are these humans even stronger than they were a few hundred years ago? What is this weapon?’
’Could it be a new Spiritual Artifact forged by those damned Qi Refiners? Weren’t they all wiped out?’
’Run!!!’
The yellow-clad man quickly rolled over, dropped to all fours like a wild animal, and fled madly into the darkness!
"MOTHERFUCKER!!! You think you can run after tearing off my brother’s arm?"
Brother Song’s eyes were wide with fury. With a wave of his hand, he led seven or eight men, guns in hand, and gave chase!
"After him! Get that monster!"
Beneath a nearby pavilion, Lu Yun stood quietly in the moonlight. He had, of course, heard the gunshots, as well as the furious shouts of Brother Song and his men.
The sounds were drawing closer.
In the bleak moonlight, Lu Yun saw a yellow figure rushing frantically in his direction.
It was the madman from the Yellow Heaven Corps from earlier that day, but his eyes were wrong—they were pitch black, with neither whites nor pupils.
Moreover, the yellow-clad man had several bloody holes in his body, from which blood was still seeping.
As Lu Yun sized up the yellow-clad man, a primal, beast-like greed flashed in the man’s pitch-black eyes.
’So hungry... I have to eat this human.’ He didn’t slow down; instead, he lunged forward with even greater frenzy!

Comments

Loading...