At once, Bobby Singer pulled up the last tracking signal. "Seventeen kilometers northeast, at the old mining site. He was there just moments ago, but now—"
The red dot on the screen flickered violently, then began to move—not sideways, but deeper underground, at tremendous speed.
"He's running."
Wu Heng turned and stepped forward. His first step was still in the camp; his second took him to a hillside a hundred meters away; by his third, he had vanished beyond the ridgeline.
Old mining site.
Crowley stood at the bottom of the mine pit, surrounded by dozens of bound hybrids. They were all high-level specimens he had carefully selected, possessing both demon and ghoul bloodlines.
He was setting up a temporary teleportation array, preparing to send these "final materials" back to Hell.
Just then, a grayish-white wave of light swept past.
All the hybrids stiffened at once. The red glow in their eyes went out, and their bodies collapsed like boneless sacks of skin.
They were all dead—completely dead, without even a trace of residual energy left behind.
Crowley abruptly looked up, his face turning deathly pale.
He had felt it.
That power—that tyrannical, chilling force capable of erasing everything, yet belonging to neither angels nor demons. There was only one person in the world who possessed it.
"Lohr Morik," he murmured, then almost instinctively began tearing off his suit jacket, revealing the demonic runes carved all over his body.
Crowley bit through his tongue and spat out a mouthful of black blood. The blood mist congealed in the air into one twisted symbol after another.
He was preparing some forbidden escape technique.
But he was too late.
A figure had already appeared at the edge of the mine pit.
Wu Heng stood there, looking down at him with eyes as