Lin Ming Makes His Move, Slaughtering!

Lin Ming Makes His Move, Slaughtering! Wolf Fang's gaze locked onto the pregnant woman kneeling on the ground, her belly swollen. He licked his lips, his sharp fangs glinting coldly, his eyes filled with eager greed and cruelty.

"Wait two months?" Wolf Fang let out a strange, Night Owl-like cackle.

"But what if I want it now?! I'm at a critical point in my cultivation and need fresh blood food to break through! How could I wait another two months?"

As he spoke, he slowly stepped down from the sedan and walked toward the pregnant woman.

Every step he took seemed to land on the refugees' hearts, terrifying them to the point of suffocation.

The pregnant woman's face was pale as paper, and her body shook violently with extreme fear.

Yet she did not beg for mercy, did not cry, and did not even raise her head to look at the demon about to take both her life and her child's.

She only clutched her belly tightly, as though that could protect the child within. Her eyes were hollow and numb, as if she had long accepted this tragic fate.

Some of the surrounding refugees turned their heads away in anguish, while others sobbed softly. But even more simply knelt there numbly, like lambs awaiting slaughter. Not a single one dared step forward to stop him.

Long-term oppression and fear had already worn away all their will to resist.

Watching this scene, Lin Ming finally spoke. His voice remained calm, but it carried a trace of icy chill. "Why... don't you resist?"

The leading woman heard Lin Ming's question, and a bitter, despairing smile appeared on her face. In a hoarse voice, she said:

"Resist? With what? The strongest among us are only Tier Two martial artists. We aren't even