One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
The livestream ran from daylight into dusk, and from dusk into night.
Yang Yong seemed to have been wound up, tirelessly charging forward, getting knocked away, getting up, charging again, and getting knocked away again.
Even those who had braved every kind of peril in the apocalypse had to give him a thumbs-up.
"This guy... is fucking fierce."
But no one knew that, at that moment, Yang Yong was falling apart inside.
Yang Yong was panicking.
His Supernatural Power was infinite.
The Mechanical City's supply was unending.
The Nine Nether Bone Armor's defenses were impregnable, and he was growing increasingly adept at wielding the power of Heaven-Breaking Strike.
But he was human, too.
A human who got hungry.
His stomach had been empty for who knew how long.
From the start of the fight until now, forget eating-he hadn't even had time for a sip of water.
By now, his stomach felt stuck to his backbone.
Every time he threw a punch, he could feel that hollow, burning sensation beneath his abs.
"Fuck..."
Yang Yong was swatted away by the Zombie King again, his entire body embedding itself in a wall. What filled his mind wasn't how to counterattack, but:
Could someone come hold it off for a bit and let me have a bowl of instant noodles?
Just one bowl.
Instant noodles would do. I'm not picky.
His eyes swept around the edge of the Core Area. There was no one.
Everyone had evacuated. No one could help hold the Zombie King back for even a minute.
He could neither stop nor keep going.
Stop?
The Zombie King would immediately charge into the Core Area and tear everyone inside to pieces.
Keep going?
He was so hungry he could barely lift his