Annihilation

Four remain.

Lu Heng stood still, waiting for the surge of energy to subside.

The thing that had just died was now flowing into his body through the Blood Armor. It was the essence, complete and pure. The gash in his hand was closing, the numbness in his left arm was receding, the dull pain under his ribs was fading into a shadow, and his breathing became steady as he calmed down.

More importantly, it's about mental strength.

Half of that attack had been used up, and now it had grown back thicker than before. Moreover, the Blood Armor on its body was still absorbing blood—with each misstep, the blood seeping from the gaps in that armor was gradually replenishing itself. Slowly, little by little, but relentlessly.

An entire corner of the opposite side is missing.

When there were five of them, the circle was static; there was always something waiting for you no matter which way you retreated. Now that a section is empty, the line is broken.

He clenched his left hand; the knife was still in his grasp, steady as ever.

Then he raised his head.

Four of them surrounded them.

Her steps were as steady as at the beginning, the horizontal seam aligned with him, tightening with each step.

But Lu Heng did not back down.

He stood still, spreading out his spiritual energy in an extremely thin layer, covering only a circumference of three to ten feet around his body.

As this layer unfolds, the things before my eyes change.

The length of each arm, the distance the fist can reach, how much the shoulder will move forward when the armor plates are misaligned, and the point where the foot lands when turning—all of this is revealed. The line is drawn in the air; wherever he stands, the line is there.

He threw the first punch. He took half a step back, landing exactly half an inch outside the line.

The fist came down, but missed.

The second one came from the side. He turned half a body length ahead of it, without even looking at it.

The third one blocked his retreat. He took a step diagonally to the left, passing right through the gap between the two.

Four of them circled around, and every punch they threw missed.

They stopped.

The seam was facing him, and it remained still.

Then they scattered.

Instead of continuing to gather, it moved apart in four directions, one or two steps at a time, until it formed a loose rhombus shape.

Lu Heng understood.

Five of them pressed down, squeezing out space inch by inch, forcing him to block. Four weren't enough to press down, so they switched to pulling—one made a move, one waited to the side and behind for him to dodge, one blocked his escape route, and one didn't even enter the arena, standing outside the circle waiting.

The action of fishing for him.

He took a half step forward, and the one on the left immediately raised a punch, then withdrew it halfway through. It didn't strike, but merely forced him to move aside. As soon as he moved aside, the one on the right followed suit, blocking the line he had created.

It's all fake. They're not using real punches, just distance.

Lu Heng stopped, refusing to let him pass.

The temperature is still rising.

From the moment he killed the first one, he never stopped pushing the soil. Evenly, slowly, without targeting any one individual, the air, ground, grass, and scales of the entire hardened earthen circle all rose together. The grass was already wilted, the soil surface was white, and there was a slight crunching sound when you stepped on it.

This is his property; he can push it away as much as he wants. He himself is unaffected.

The Insect Armor Warrior are far away, so this method is even more ruthless.

The entire cavity is sealed, allowing heat to enter but not exit. The longer you stand there, the stuffier it gets.

The one outside the circle was the first to have a problem. It hadn't entered the arena and had been standing there waiting for three rounds. When Lu Heng moved towards it for the third time, he noticed a very subtle tremor in its arm-raising motion—not hesitation, but because its internal components couldn't hold on any longer, and the body had to divert its energy to suppress its own temperature.

That's it.

Lu Heng made a move.

He didn't charge, he moved. His steps were slow, slicing diagonally, each step landing just outside the attack lines of the other three. When the one on the left threw a punch, he yielded by half an inch; when the one on the right stepped forward, he turned half a body length ahead.

It's not that it's faster than before, it's that we don't need to gamble anymore.

Every punch he threw just now was a gamble, betting on being a fraction faster. Now he doesn't need to gamble anymore; he knows he can't reach it, so he can move earlier, make smaller movements, and not waste his energy on risky plays.

The one outside the circle finally made its move. A punch came crashing down, heavy and fast.

Lu Heng already knew where it would land. He didn't retreat, but slid half a step in the direction of the punch—this step landed precisely at the point where the arm was at its straightest and retracted most slowly.

Stick it in, with your forehead against the seam.

Mind Spike.

A carapace can stop a knife, it can stop heat, but it can't stop this. It stops things that try to penetrate, not things that smash in from the outside. But there's a prerequisite—the contents inside have to be in disarray. If they're not in disarray, even if it's a solid block, it will just be pushed out if something tries to penetrate it.

This one was simmered the longest, and it's the messiest inside.

Stab it in, three times.

It froze, its armor plate relaxed for a moment, and then it slammed straight back onto the ground.

Two.

As the heat flowed back, Lu Heng didn't stop; he used the momentum to turn around.

There are three left. They rearranged their positions, but they were a beat too late.

It's not that the reaction is slow, it's that the judgment is slow. Their strategy is to coordinate and block the opponent's movements, but this person is always outside their lines, so they can't block them. If they can't block them, they have to rearrange, and if they rearrange, they have to stand still, and if they stand still, they become even more blocked.

The second one was prepared using a different method.

It stopped throwing fake punches and went straight for him, bumping him with its shoulder, trying to push him into the arms of the third one.

Lu Heng made it come close. The instant its shoulder bumped into him, he bent down, passed under its arm, and went around to its back.

It turned around. As it turned, its waist armor opened and closed, and a wisp of the pent-up heat inside its body escaped.

Lu Heng sensed that very trace.

Before it could finish turning, he took a step up from the carapace, placed his hand on the layer of armor, and the Mind Spike pierced through from behind—not through the horizontal seams, but through the thinnest part between the armor plate and the flesh.

The resistance is much smaller than that on the front.

It knelt down, its armor plates loosening one by one, and it fell forward.

Three.

The remaining two started to leave.

It's not about running, it's about retreating, retreating to the edge of the wasteland where there's grass and undulations. The grass can block the view, the ditch can provide cover, and the tree roots can obstruct movement.

Then switch to the simplest yet most effective method: take turns attacking, one in front and one behind, and retreat immediately after each attack, never standing still.

They stopped trying to stop him, they just wanted to stall. Stall until the temperature rise in his area stopped, stall until his mental energy was exhausted.

You made the wrong bet.

His mental strength was even greater than before he attacked, and now he was only using the innermost layer, so the consumption was negligible. The temperature kept rising, evenly, slowly, and continuously. With each movement, the mutated blood energy leaking from the gaps in that layer of nails continued to flow in. Slowly, little, but continuously.

The longer the fight went on, the more satisfied he became.

The one in front had been hitting for three rounds when its punches started to go astray. Once it was an inch, twice it was two inches, and three times combined it was about a body length.

Lu Heng had targeted this position.

He deliberately created an opening—his right foot landed harder, as if he hadn't shifted his weight properly. The opponent in front of him caught him, throwing a full-force punch at his ribs.

He was waiting to give it his all.

He lowered his body, the fist passed over his head, and he was completely inside it, pressed against his chest. He looked up, and the horizontal seam was right in front of him.

Mind Spike.

Four.

I didn't shoot the last one.

It stood still, watching its companion fall, its horizontal line facing Lu Heng, without moving an inch.

Lu Heng walked over, took three steps away from it, and stopped.

It's waiting. Waiting for an opportunity, or waiting for a result.

Lu Heng raised his hand, but before he could thrust the dagger out, it moved first—not to pounce on him, but to turn and charge towards the other end of the wasteland. It was incredibly fast, taking two meters in a single stride, the sound of its armor plates opening and closing echoing throughout the room.

It wanted to run away.

Lu Heng didn't chase after him.

He stood still, then suddenly pushed the layer of spiritual energy close to his body outwards to its maximum extent, covering the entire wasteland.

The temperature jumped up in that instant.

The running body, with its sealed shell filled with self-generated heat, was already on the verge of its limit. This jump completely blocked the gap for heat dissipation.

It ran for about ten steps before its steps became erratic. The first step veered off course, the second dragged, and the third its knee buckled, causing it to stumble forward, crash to the ground, and roll twice before coming to a stop.

The armor plates were still slightly opening and closing; the internal support was gone.

Lu Heng walked over and stood next to it for two seconds.

The Mind Spike fell.

A breeze blew in from the woods, carrying the scent of dried grass.

The four carapaces lay in a row on the wasteland, their dark brown scales gleaming dimly in the sunlight, their interiors completely hollow. Including the first one that fell, there were five of them, all here.

Lu Heng stood still, waiting for the energy in his body to completely subside.

The Greedy Wolf Power continued to surge upwards, wave after wave. The five sources were complete and pure. Strength, blood, and spirit were all full, with an extra layer overflowing and pressing down on the meridians, heavy and substantial.