"Namo Gatling Bodhisattva, three thousand six hundred rounds in a single breath, mercifully delivering the world's people!"
As the young monk spoke, he opened fire on Hua Gang with the Gatling.
It seemed he had firmly remembered the rule that villains died from talking too much.
Hua Gang soared and darted about like a legendary resistance hero, evading countless bullets in one go.
The monk frowned slightly and began chanting the Great Compassion Mantra again, but his attacks became even more vicious.
The bullets actually curved!
Was this some kind of mental lock-on? Like a butterfly flitting among flowers, Hua Gang twisted and turned, dodging the bullets.
Fortunately, it did not last long. The other side did not have infinite ammunition after all. The Gatling fell silent, and the young monk tossed it aside before somehow pulling out a Man-Portable Missile launcher. Hua Gang hurriedly charged forward, closing the distance between them.
But the monk floated into the air and retreated directly.
The missile shot toward him.
Hua Gang caught the missile midair, redirected it, and sent it flying back at his opponent.
The monk threw away the launcher as well, then kicked the missile straight back.
The only two spectators outside the scene were stunned by that exchange.
"Unbelievable. It feels like there are no special effects at all, like these are moves people can actually perform themselves?" Pan Yisheng said.
"Exactly. It's too outrageous. That was practically Superman, and it was far too realistic. Aren't dreams usually chaotic, illusory, and ever-changing?" the dean said in surprise.
From their words, it was clear that he knew quite a lot.
"Ordinary dreams are naturally like that. But once they have an anchor point, they become stable. And you have already seen that anchor point—the lake, that villa, and the tribal