Country Bumpkin

Ding Moluo's smile grew even smugger.

"That's right."

"You thought that once the Apex Hunter made off with the Headmaster, we'd have no way to bring out this treasure again?"

"Or perhaps you thought that since the Apex Hunter himself isn't even here anymore, the pile of junk he left behind could stop this 'Divine Artifact'? Regretfully, all that amounts to is a problem we can solve by ramming it with the train a few more times~"

Kaisang coughed up several more mouthfuls of blood, his face growing ever paler, yet he still stubbornly pressed the conversation onward.

"I see. Then, how many people are there in your guerrilla group altogether?"

Ding Moluo's gaze darkened slightly.

"I don't think such specific information is worth a dead man's concern."

Yet Kaisang grinned, baring a row of bloodstained teeth.

"No. I simply think your lot are truly remarkable. You're all at the same Nightmare level, yet you're on a completely different level from the Clowns I killed before."

"My companions might not rank among the strongest in the Hunter Corps, but no matter what, they shouldn't have been wiped out without even leaving a few obvious wounds on the three of you."

"I find that truly hard to believe. That's why I wanted to know how many Clown freaks like you are left besides the three standing here."

Ding Moluo froze slightly at those words, then threw back his head and laughed.

"Hahahaha! That praise was awfully straightforward! You're making me a little embarrassed!"

After hearing Kaisang, Fente's aged face beneath his hood filled with intense disgust. He then warned Ding Moluo:

"Ding Moluo, while this guy is buttering you up, he's definitely plotting how to stab you in the back, just like those Hunters in the past. Don't fall for his