The blue phosphorescent charge was ready, casting a faint, cold glow over the launcher and lighting half his face like a dead man who had crawled out of a grave.
"Mang Dabiao."
"Don't worry, boss!"
"Even if it costs me a hundred years of my lifespan, I'll hit it with a big one!"
He already held his Evil-Slaying Blade across his body.
Dark red patterns coiled around the blade like pulsing blood vessels, each pulse distorting the surrounding air a little more.
The price of this blade was life.
The corners of Yang Yong's mouth lifted slightly.
"Good."
He swept his large hand through the air, his voice sinking low.
This was the final silence before the hunt.
"Get ready. Slow down gradually. Make it look like we're running out of fuel."
"Don't panic, and don't rush. Make it think... we're prey with nowhere left to run."
"Don't worry, boss!" Mang Dabiao squeezed an utterly sleazy grin onto his snake face. "You know my acting skills, don't you? Even the Oscars owe me a statuette..."
"Cut the wisecracks."
Yang Yong never took his eyes off the rearview mirror.
The Corpse Mass Monster had closed to five hundred meters.
Four hundred meters.
Three hundred meters.
The hands and feet on that thing scrabbled faster.
Yang Yong could even make out the nails on those hands and feet...
Some were human, some belonged to beasts, and some... were impossible to identify.
They bent at bizarre angles, plowing furrows through the sand.
Two hundred meters.
The Corpse Mass Monster was roughly an irregular sphere, at least fifteen meters in diameter.
Its surface consisted of layers upon layers of corpses piled together.
Some had rotted down to exposed white bones, while others still wore the expressions they had died with.
Those expressions were twisted,