On the desolate street, the shops on both sides had their doors tightly shut, and the streetlights flickered with a dim yellow glow.
Zhou Deng panted heavily, his tongue hanging out.
His once reasonably tidy hair now looked like an afro, and he wore a tattered, faded Ghost Shroud.
He bent over with both hands braced on his knees, looking like a beggar who had hit rock bottom.
"Stop fucking chasing me!"
Zhou Deng glanced back and roared in a hoarse voice.
"I only swiped one Fierce Supernatural from you! Do you really have to hound me like this? It's not like I wanted to steal it!"
Just over a hundred meters behind him.
A man carrying an old merchandise rack was slowly approaching with stiff steps.
The man kept his head lowered, obscuring his face.
The wooden rack on his shoulder creaked and groaned.
A collection of bizarre objects hung from the rack, swaying slightly as he walked.
His seemingly slow steps carried a paranormal lock-on that was impossible to shake.
The sight made Zhou Deng's scalp prickle, and he took off running in the opposite direction again.
As he ran, he frantically tried to channel the paranormal power he had stolen into his body.
The paranormal attack of the Ghost Tides erupted in an instant.
Deep blue seawater with a heavy, briny stench surged out of thin air onto the previously dry street.
Three layers of deep blue waves, each several meters high, carried crushing water pressure as they slammed toward the Peddler behind him.
The water struck the Peddler with a dull thud.
Then it rolled back, creating an immense pulling force.
Yet under that terrifying paranormal water pressure, the Peddler paused for only half a second.
His seawater-soaked trouser legs did not bend in the slightest