Bloodbath

The fighting in the streets was brutal and bloody. Miao Lun had beaten hundreds of troops into complete disarray.

Boom!

Another tank shell came crashing down. Miao Lun sprinted forward, nimble as a leopard.

In modern urban warfare, a tank—a steel behemoth weighing dozens of tons—could be successfully ambushed even by an ordinary soldier carrying an RPG, let alone a gene warrior like Miao Lun.

Miao Lun shot diagonally forward to the side, dodging a hail of machine-cannon fire. The tank turret could not turn fast enough to keep up with his pace, and with the tank's own narrow field of vision, it lost track of Miao Lun in an instant.

By then, Miao Lun had already reached the tank's vulnerable rear. A rocket launcher he had grabbed on the way appeared in his hand, and he fired straight at the tank's tail.

The rocket's molten metal jet pierced through the tank, sending black smoke billowing from it. Before long, the tank was dead in the water.

Several disheveled crewmen crawled out of the tank's hatch. Before they could escape, Miao Lun swept them into a bloody sieve.

The armored vehicles' machine cannons were still firing continuously. After fighting for so long, Miao Lun had also been struck by stray machine-cannon rounds.

But his formidable defenses meant that he was barely affected. Only sustained hits from a 30-millimeter machine cannon could seriously injure him—and Miao Lun would never let himself be forced into such a desperate situation.

Miao Lun planted both feet against a wall and shot toward an infantry fighting vehicle. The capillaries beneath the surface of his right arm burst one after another. The blood that seeped out mixed with his flowing bio-armor, forming a blood-red short spear roughly one and a half meters long.

Rip!

Miao Lun