"Ugh!"
Blood sprayed from Lin An's mouth as a fist imbued with terrifying power punched straight through his chest.
His body was blasted into the Zombie Crowd like a cannonball, and the scent of blood drove the crowd into an even greater frenzy.
Countless rotten arms clawed at his limbs, and the Zombies swarmed over him like ants.
Powerless. Cold.
The massive loss of blood caused his consciousness to grow hazy.
He laughed bitterly inwardly. He had never expected that he would ultimately underestimate the Stitcher's strength.
He had thought that after obtaining the Soul-Devouring Hand, he would have enough confidence to fight it.
But he had never expected that even with only his strength not being crushed, the gap between them would still be so enormous.
The Stitcher truly deserved its status as a Second Order Peak existence—the nightmare of all the Linjiang survivors in his previous life.
It was impossible to imagine how terrifying it would be if, after advancing, it devoured all the Zombies here and reached the Third Order.
The Zombie Crowd bit at him, rotten arms reaching into his ripped-open chest, trying to dig out his heart, just like the memories from his deathbed in his previous life.
"Thump!"
"Thump!"
"Thump!"
The ground trembled, and the heavy, frenzied charge was terrifying.
Although the Zombie Crowd blocked his vision, Lin An could feel from the trembling ground that the Stitcher was madly charging toward him.
Beneath the small mountain of piled-up Zombies.
He could not help sighing as he slowly raised his right hand.
He had thought he could save it for last, as his final trump card against the Stitcher. Now, he had no choice but to use it.
"Soul."
"Shriek!"
"Vrrr~!"
The air twisted and warped.
The Soul-Devouring Hand on his right hand instantly