The Resurrected Optimus Prime

Donnie finally burst out of the parking lot. The Mini-Transformer caught up, and he grabbed it, turning it back into a phone.

It was like two completely different worlds. Outside, everything was still normal—pedestrians living peaceful, quiet lives, oblivious to the danger. The underground parking lot was sealed off, a fierce battle raging inside, with many dead and wounded, and plenty more crippled, doomed to spend the rest of their lives in a wheelchair.

Donnie didn't have any boring thoughts like regret or guilt.

He had nothing left to begin with. Why would he care about anything else?

Donnie understood all too well how dangerous this world was, how hopeless the future looked.

Countless demons and monsters would soon step onto the stage of this great era of strife, and many legendary figures would awaken one by one from endless slumber and seals. One powerhouse after another, each capable of dominating an age, would appear and then die like ants, corpses littering the fields.

This was an unprecedented era—countless experts and flourishing civilizations gathered together, a hundred flowers blooming in rivalry. A true golden age. But it was also the darkest, most turbulent time, with countless wronged souls wailing in pain across the starry cosmos, never fading away.

Struggle, and you might live. Don't struggle, and you'll definitely die.

Donnie had the clearest vision of the future—a Sea of Corpses and Blood, darkness and chaos like never before. He had a big-picture perspective beyond this era, and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Donnie roared down the road on his motorcycle. Soon, a group of people followed behind him, some on bikes, some in cars, chasing him relentlessly.

But they still had scruples—they didn't dare open fire recklessly and cause civilian casualties.

Up ahead, someone rushed out, wearing glasses and looking refined. He stood at a distance, apparently trying to block Donnie in advance.

"Mr. Donnie, our Boss really wants to recruit you!" the man shouted, waving his hands.

"Who's your Boss?"

"Jingjing," the man said.

Bang!

Donnie fired, wounding the man. He had zero interest in following Jingjing—too small-minded, too weak at the top. When the situation shifted soon, a force like that would turn to ash in an instant.

Jingjing was just a crime lord, nothing more.

In the distance, Jingjing watched this scene, furious enough to smash his cup. He roared in rage, declaring he'd personally kill this arrogant bastard sooner or later.

Donnie kept speeding forward, his pace shocking, drawing screams of terror and curses from pedestrians.

Donnie ducked into some alleys. He'd already memorized the terrain around here earlier from the Empire State Building—most importantly, he'd locked in the locations of every alley and street vendor. They could all serve as cover to help him escape.

The terrain here could limit some pursuers, but more importantly, it was a shortcut, saving time.

Pfft!

A wound appeared on Donnie's stomach, and his eyes widened in shock!

As blood flowed, it outlined the shape of a dagger, and he could barely make out a finger resting on its handle.

An invisible person! An expert assassin!

Finally, a Mutant had made a move against him!

Donnie's face went pale. The motorcycle rapidly transformed, taking its Transformer form. It grabbed Donnie with one arm while the other assembled a blade, swinging fiercely at the air—but hitting nothing, only the dagger still stuck in Donnie's stomach.

One strike landed, then it vanished into hiding. This was a cautious Mutant with invisibility, extremely hard to deal with.

In his mind, the AllSpark flickered constantly, its light dimming and brightening, wavering unsteadily. A surge of Spark Energy flowed to the wound, helping stabilize and repair it.

Donnie pulled out the dagger, his face grim. He'd never expected to get away unscathed—that was too unrealistic. Some injuries were inevitable, but he hadn't anticipated his first wound to be this severe.

The AllSpark was miraculous, sure, but Spark Energy was limited. Plus, the stabbing pain in his head distracted him.

This sudden injury electrified his pursuers, hyping them up like they'd been injected with adrenaline.

A wounded Mutant—that said it all! No matter how strong this monster was, he was still human! And humans get hurt. Hurt enough, and they die!

Some got excited, no longer caring about accidentally hitting civilians. They drew their guns and opened fire, eager to claim the first kill and snatch the corpse of this high-level Mutant.

It was like a signal. These violent thugs all pulled their weapons, shooting at Donnie, scrambling to be the one to kill him before anyone else could.

As for who that invisible Mutant was? Who cared? It didn't matter. Some faction had definitely sent him, and his goal was the same—kill Donnie.

Donnie cursed loudly. He'd thought someone might hire a Mutant to deal with him, but he never expected an invisible one to show up, nearly landing a killing blow. If that stab had been aimed at his head... even in the midst of crisis, Donnie couldn't help but shiver, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Bullets flew at him from behind from time to time, but they were all blocked. Donnie just needed to reach his destination as fast as possible—that hospital.

The pursuers grew more excited, breathing heavily, eyes bloodshot. They thought they had him.

Suddenly, a burst of machine-gun fire erupted. A large group of pursuers screamed and fell dead, while some vehicles had their fuel tanks blown up, exploding in flames!

A squad of men in black ambushed them from the side. The leader wore sunglasses, his expression cold, as they mowed down Donnie's pursuers in a frenzy, killing countless in an instant.

As Donnie approached, the sunglasses-wearing man cleared a path and tossed him a phone.

Donnie was suspicious, but he caught the phone as he passed. It seemed someone wanted to save him, to protect him in this crisis. Later, someone would probably contact him through this phone.

Spark Energy quickly seeped into it, and he found no bomb-like mechanisms inside. Donnie breathed a sigh of relief. He was puzzled about who had saved him, but that didn't matter now—it was a problem for later.

That group put up a brief resistance, then quickly retreated, well-trained and without any hesitation. Or rather, their mission was just to deliver that phone.

The pursuers regrouped and kept chasing, refusing to stop until Donnie was dead.

"Come on, come on! If you've got the guts, don't run! I'll fight you with one hand tied behind my back—you dare?" A scrawny guy had somehow gotten a big megaphone and was shouting arrogantly at Donnie, exuding dominance and drawing attention.

Where did this tough guy come from? Did he have some special skill?

"A nameless rat, just running away without even daring to fight back—disappointing! I thought I'd found a worthy opponent, but it turns out you're nothing."

A Holy Light rose from Skinny Man, blindingly bright.

Those who didn't know him frowned—this guy looked scrawny and harmless, could he be some famous powerhouse?

Those who did know him flushed red, especially the ones who'd charged out of the parking lot with him; they almost wanted to cover their faces and flee, too ashamed to be seen.

Too embarrassing, way too embarrassing—why was this kind of trash on their side? No face left to show.

As if provoked by the taunts, Donnie pulled a drift, spinning his motorcycle 180 degrees to face them.

Finally stopped running!

The crowd rejoiced, swarming forward to fight over this Mutant's corpse.

But Skinny Man's heart skipped a beat, getting a bad feeling. His instincts told him something big was about to go down; all his hairs stood on end, he started trembling involuntarily, and a fawning expression crept onto his face.

He'd had strong sixth sense since childhood—that's how he'd survived this long in the business. He trusted his gut.

"Come on, come on, you stupid piece of crap, finally stopped running? Get over here and fight me—I'll give you one hand!"

Skinny Man shouted loudly, exuding presence. He kept provoking, spewing words, whipping everyone into a charge, but his body was smoothly backing away. As he retreated, he yelled: "One hand, I'll take you down in three moves tops! Scared? Speak up if you are!"

A lot of people were secretly backing off with Skinny Man too.

Finally, someone noticed the group's odd behavior and asked in surprise: "Everyone's charging forward—why are you guys backing up?"

Skinny Man feigned calm: "I'm worried he's got backup. I need to cover the rear, protect our backs. The glory's yours—I'll volunteer for the toughest, most dangerous job. When you make it big, don't forget me. If we get rich, don't ditch each other."

A Holy Light rose from Skinny Man.

Many were moved, praising Skinny Man for being solid, while cursing "idiot" in their hearts as they scrambled to surround Donnie.

Donnie laughed. He'd been fleeing all the way, finally luring this bunch here. He could've used a simpler method, but he didn't want to. If he was doing it, he was going all the way!

A deafening roar shook the skies as a beat-up truck violently smashed through the hospital wall and burst out, making countless eyes go wide!

Wasn't this truck broken? Wasn't it scrapped and immobile?!

"You're all dying here—not one of you is leaving!" Donnie snarled. Being chased and beaten the whole way would piss anyone off.

The truck looked battered but was basically mobile now. It quickly transformed into a two-meter-tall Transformer.

If that was all, it'd be one thing—but Donnie, face twisted, flung his motorcycle, and Optimus Prime caught it in one hand!

Under Donnie's control, the motorcycle split into piece after piece, large and small, which snapped onto Optimus Prime one by one!

Clanks rang out without end, like a death-devil's whisper, chilling countless people to the bone, plunging them into an ice pit.

Their intel still wasn't thorough enough! This Mutant's abilities were more complex, more versatile, and more terrifying than they'd imagined!