War King

Look closely, this man's A Le.

He should have escaped with his good brother Feibo in a bloody battle, or at the very least, tried to flirt with the pretty girl next to him and confess his feelings amidst the strong suspension bridge effect.

But as the saying goes, "Man dies for wealth, birds die for food." When the bulldozers stormed into the Terror Artist's shop to renovate this historic old house, the cash box, antiques, wine sets, and goldwares on the board table were scattered all over the floor.

A clanging and tinkling sound came from the alley entrance, as if a demonic melody could suck away A Le's soul.

He was clever and very cautious. He immediately ran to the security booth of the Huadu Nightclub and found temporary police tape. He pretended to be an undercover police officer handling a case, which saved Jiang Xueming a lot of effort in driving away the rioters.

However, A Le himself became the most troublesome member of the crowd, returning to the scene of the crime alone.

The clever A Le wasn't as greedy as Feibo. Looking from the dilapidated shop into the depths of the porch, he could still hear terrifying sounds of wailing and screams of flesh and blood coming from afar.

Looking again at the two blobs of dark red liquid on the floor in the entryway, they were the monsters that the strange, mysterious person had shot and killed.

For a moment A Le couldn't imagine what these things represented.

Perhaps this is a new show by Terror Artist?

Perhaps it was biological or chemical weapons dropped by foreign terrorists?

Perhaps it's a personal grudge? Did some enemy drive a construction vehicle into the gate to collect a debt?

He carried a megaphone and shouted to his neighbors, issuing a temporary curfew order. What was originally a tool to persuade villagers to come downstairs for nucleic acid testing had now become a helpful tool in his hands to eliminate competitors. Most of the residents in the buildings on Guangyuan Middle Road are elderly retirees who usually don't like to go downstairs except to buy groceries or play cards. Not to mention the sudden demolition noises in the middle of the night.

When the Grandfather heard the announcement downstairs, they knew it wasn't a fire, so they obediently went back to bed and went back to sleep.

The ground was littered with broken pieces of gold and silver, waiting for A Le to collect them, which made him beam with joy.

That's right--

--He burst into laughter on the spot.

As he tiptoed along the path of gold and silver, picking them up all the way to the porch, and lay on the carpet fiddling with the tiny pieces of precious metal in the velvet fabric, a gust of cold wind swept over him.

"[Terror Art], make him my slave!"

John Borg, this wandering ghost from a century ago, had escaped to the porch. Dressed in an elegant suit, his rugged features and ferocious expression showed that he was extremely wary of the intruders and looked as if he were facing a formidable enemy.

He gently pressed his illusory arm against A Le's head, and the powerful Soul Power immediately took effect—

--A cross-shaped crater appeared on the skull of this diligent black security guard.

His brain exploded with the sudden increase in blood pressure and intracranial pressure. The cracks spread from his neck to his torso like newborn buds, splitting his entire upper body into three pieces. The ganglia of his spine became enlarged, emitting a strong, fishy stench like flower stamens.

The ribs were reshaped into sharp teeth and claws resembling flowers and leaves, becoming John Berg's fleshy monster.

Right now, at this very moment--

--The bulldozer suddenly reversed, and the large steel wheels, which had long lost the protection of rubber tires, crushed the newborn monster into a carpet with raging sparks.

Having lost his physical body, John Berg possesses agile and unpredictable movements; he is like smoke and mist, and material weapons cannot harm him at all.

As John dodged the bulldozer, his eyes were filled with terror. The steel and concrete hauled in by the bulldozer resembled a richly varied baking pan. Bartender Alpha and Manager Sigma's magical catalysts were hanging on it, along with the rotting flesh of six grotesque, mutated creatures. Their eyeballs and intestines were all being squeezed and cut by the steel bars, like a precise yet cruel surgery. Their joints and organs for observing their surroundings had all lost their function. All their fighting ability was crushed in the first round by this terrifying opponent!

Almost simultaneously with the bulldozer expelling the house, a staggering barrage of gunfire erupted from the driver's seat towards John Berg.

Jiaolong's Spirit-Destroying Magazine was empty, and the sound of gunfire from his secondary weapon, Lei Fengheng, was incessant. Every burst of graphite dust from the high-pressure gas cloud that struck John, who was frantically trying to dodge, created a terrifying crater, like a peeler used to peel potatoes.

John wanted to escape--

He had never encountered such a terrifying and violent opponent.

No matter the era, the kings surrounding Ming De, or its Lapis Lazuli Guards, its Guangling Zhixi, its incomparably brave Red Stone People or its sinister and ruthless Blue Stone People, none could compare to the [Faded One] before them.

The fleeting ghost followed the shockwaves from the gunfire and was blown into the distance, only to be stopped by the psionic blasts that exploded in mid-air. After witnessing the power of modern firearms, John Borg finally came to terms with reality.

At this moment, he was in a state of Melezong, riding in a convertible. The mechanisms and props inside the house were destroyed along with the walls by this barbaric machinery almost instantly. The energy network of his spirit was blocked by a strange magical catalyst. If he had stopped moving for even three seconds, this ruthless killer would have completely wiped him out!

We must take the initiative and attack!

If [Terror Art] can just touch this guy, I can turn him into my slave!

Although this kid looks short and not as strong and tall as Sigma, the guy who can drive me, John Borg, to the brink of despair must have a powerful elemental essence that can become a very formidable servant.

Just hold on through this, just hold on through this inferno! The moment he changes magazines! The moment his right arm is exposed! Now!

At the narrow alley entrance, the bulldozer followed Xue Ming's deep press of the accelerator, unleashing a surge of power.

It crashed into the old house again, and John Borg's spirit was transformed into a cheese-like form riddled with holes, but his soul power was still effective. This was his trump card: the terrifying evolution he gained from the [Original Seed], a divine power capable of turning any life form into a deformed flesh and blood.

The timing of the reload was crucial; John Berg's eyes widened in shock.

The young man's hunched posture, holding the gun, remained unchanged. He simply tapped the release button, and a gleaming silver steel arm assisted him in reloading, as if the gun itself had never changed, continuing to spew fire. The feeding mechanism didn't even react; the continuous extraction of spent cartridges was completely unaffected.

He has no weaknesses! The weaknesses that John Borg hypothesized simply do not exist!

The tattered spirit lunged at Xue Ming, even at the risk of being completely annihilated, as long as it could touch the young man before being completely destroyed, [Terror Art] would come into play!

The Soul-Destroying Bullets were continuously pressed from the pistol magazine into the rifle magazine by [Fragrant Dream]'s skillful fingers; the continuous and dense barrage of fire seemed unable to stop this century-old ghost.

In the context of the supernatural tales of "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," John Berg is at least a business leader of the same caliber as the Black Mountain Demon, not so easy to kill. The Soul-Destroying Bullet could shave off the head of bartender Alpha, but when it hits John Berg, who has extremely strong mental power, it can at most create a bunch of Thumb -sized holes.

The two were getting closer and closer, and the twisted and deformed knuckles were about to touch Xue Ming's skull!

From that iron-sculpted, straight nose, the claws of [Fragrant Dream] suddenly shot out! They gripped John Berg's fingers tightly!

However, this strange spirit, blessed by the [Original Seed], was like a lump of clay, suddenly deforming and piercing Xue Ming's weapon-wielding right arm.

John Borg was ecstatic. "We've got it!"

But the next instant, the battle-hardened old monster could no longer laugh.

A blinding light burst forth from Jiang Xueming's sleeve, almost illuminating the darkness.

The sudden, ruthless blow the Unworthy Work like a divine weapon that could break bones and tendons, shattering the flesh and blood that had bloomed on the right arm. The raging fire, reaching thousands of degrees, almost evaporated John's nose and mouth, slicing the spirit's skull in two.

The evil souls floating in mid-air have finally come to an end.

Two bloodshot eyes could still see the cold-faced killer sitting in the driver's seat of the bulldozer, clutching the mangled arm that he had broken with his own hands.

The cross-shaped scar, just beginning to mutate, remained at the wrist pulse point on the arm, before losing all vitality. The granulation tissue gradually spread, only to be abruptly stopped in the flames.

He seemed still curious, holding the Universal Elixir, as if pondering whether to reattach the arm or simply grow a new one. The look of disdain on his face seemed to say, "[Maybe we should leave the old one for now; a new arm will do, no problem.]"

John Borg's thoughts and sanity vanished into the heavens and earth, reduced to charred carbon powder by the divine power of Mingde's remains.

The forklift is already scrapped, but the cleaning work must continue.

Xue Ming casually tossed the severed arm aside, tore off his spirit robe and removed his wig, checked his ammunition, and re-entered the shop. He could sense that although the bandit leader had died in the second round of the battle, the freaks he left behind were still alive and had to be wiped out completely.

Without the obstruction of the spirit garment, Fragrant Dream was finally able to completely leave her body and enter the narrow room. Xue Ming completely abandoned the Flood Dragon and used Thunder Wind Heng as her main weapon.

He walked forward through the corridor behind the revolving door, and a fleshy mutant lunged out from a hidden door on either side of the studio, hidden behind movie posters. The monster's low-lying posture made it extremely difficult to aim, and he stomped on its spine, crushing it.

Bone spurs pierced his instep, yet he showed no hesitation. The instant he cut off the enemy's mobility, a hail of bullets and steel maces opened fire simultaneously.

Fragrant Dream was never his primary weapon for killing enemies. He protected this fragile spirit within his physical body, only using this ultimate weapon when he was driven into Gate of Death desperate situation and had to fight to the death.

Before entering the next room, the pitiful singer huddled behind the poster, trembling. Like Lord Sigma and Bartender Alpha, she had a devilish appearance with red skin, black hair, and red eyes. The uninvited guest had trampled John's master's guard dog to death right under her nose, and the spirit had pulled the bone nail stuck in his foot out of his.

The fighting stance is exactly the same as Bruce Lee's in the movie poster for "Game of Death," and even their height and build are almost identical.

This is nothing like the weak and powerless Lord Sigma described!

As Miss Beta covered her mouth, trembling with fear—

--A hand lifted the poster in the studio aisle, and a gun barrel was thrust inside.

The scream abruptly stopped halfway through, turning into the weak groans of the female ghost. The mouth and tongue of the clay doll were made of sewing machine oil and pigskin fabric. The oil suddenly swelled and squeezed into these cavities. The terrifying shriek was drowned out by the gunshot, and the soul instantly vanished into nothingness.

Further inside, we found the entertainment room where tea parties were held littered with bullet casings.

The scattered magazines indicated that a fierce battle had taken place here, and that there were numerous flesh-and-blood mutants. As John Berg said, there were as many as sixteen strong and robust monsters crouching in various corners of the shop.

Starting from the first table, the poor souls who were taken out by bullets need no further elaboration.

The fresh bloodstains in the kitchen were new wounds on Xue Ming's body. He escaped through the kitchen exhaust window, climbed downstairs to retrieve a fire axe redder than blood, climbed back up, and became a hot-blooded head-chopping warrior.

The two corpses lying on the large pot were the spoils of the axe, while his comrade, burned to a crisp, was a victim of the flour explosion.

My the Unworthy Work landed on the main stage of the hall, embedded in the heads of two crocodile-shaped monsters, each over four meters long. The oxide layer on the two steel maces had completely peeled off, revealing the rusted iron underneath.

The cleaver, spinning and flying into the big screen, chopped the flesh-and-blood doll in the hidden door into a spoiled, expired snack.

In that very instant, Jiang Xueming had just used a sturdy, luxurious brass chair to support a monster, and then slammed his axe into the monster's [heart]. Immediately afterwards, he dodged and retreated to the main stage to deal with the last serpentine monster.

He kicked aside the stage wiring conduit, cut the thick copper cable, and casually threw the live wire end into the monster's mouth.

All I heard was the crisp sound of the fuse blowing and tripping the circuit breaker.

--And the final sound of the axe blade hitting the ground, the axe breaking and flying away.

The indoor safety lights came on, and under the green light, Jiang Xueming, covered in blood, looked far redder than a demon.

His bald scalp showed no trace of normal skin color, and he could barely open his eyes.

The scene was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

His Inspiration finally returned to calm, and even the Fragrant Dream could no longer detect any strange smells.

Extracting these the Unworthy Work from the skulls of two elite monsters, these steel maces need to be reforged. The fitness equipment sent by Mr. Wen Bucai has completed its historical mission and should now be transformed into a form to fight monsters.

When Xue Ming returned to the entrance and breathed in the fresh air, he felt unbearable soreness all over his body. His tiger's mouth was swollen with deep scars. After the severed arm regenerated, the moment the flesh and bone were reconstructed, it was difficult for this arm to be immediately put into efficient killing.

In the sweltering summer heat, he felt as if he had just returned from a pool party, from a ketchup-splashing festival held in hell.

Besides the police tape and police cars at the scene, Sima Yao brought two ice creams, McDonald's's Oreo McFlurrys that were buy-one-get-one-free for fifteen yuan, intending to give Xue Ming a surprise—after all, she was very poor, and she had to give an explanation for the lemon tea she had taken earlier.

In just twenty minutes, Jiang Xueming abandoned the deformed dragon, the wounded Lei Fengheng, half a fire axe as evidence, and all the magazines left at the scene had to be retrieved and handed over to Tian Shu's logistics department.

Sima Yao: "What the hell were you doing while I was queuing at McDonald's's?"

Jiang Xueming wiped the blood off her hands, but before she could wipe the blood off her face, she took the dessert gift that Sima Yao handed her.

"Mission accomplished. Unfortunately, one hostage died."