Chapter 699: Chapter 631: I’m the Aberration? So It’s My Fault?!!
Zuo Bai leaped out the window to escape, incredulously shaking off Feng Yuhuai.
Without time to think, he covered his groin and quickly ran away.
But with no one chasing behind, he suddenly didn’t know where to flee.
"Should I hide back in the taxi trunk first?"
This thought had barely surfaced when Zuo Bai himself was taken aback.
Unconsciously, that dark, cramped space had become the safest haven in his mind.
Zuo Bai turned his head to look at the road.
However, where his gaze reached, there was no "safe haven"; it had clearly turned into a miniature hell of flesh and steel intertwined.
Under the glow of the street lamps, two figures were fiercely battling, colliding, and separating at great speed, every collision erupting with a dull thunder-like sound of bone and flesh clashing, sometimes mingled with the sharp screech of twisted metal.
One of the figures, skinny and hunched, was his life-saving good-hearted friend "Old Huang," who looked quite wretched now.
On the left arm, Old Huang’s entire forearm and hand were nowhere to be found.
Above the elbow joint was a gruesome stump, tendons and blood vessels protruding like violently torn cables, the stark white ulna jutted out from the flesh, blood dripping in strings from the ragged sleeve.
But his only remaining right claw exuded an even fiercer killing intent, fingers curved like an eagle’s talons, the nails having turned a poisonous black at some point.
The wind from his claw left a visible black trajectory in the air.
The tall Night Watcher’s condition was not much better, half of his black robe soaked in blood, clinging to his muscle-knotted body.
At the chest, several eye-catching finger holes were burnt black and rolled like they had been corroded by strong acid, faint rib bones visible underneath.
"Hiss... hiss..."
The subtle sound like raw meat tossed into a boiling oil pot kept coming from the depths of those finger holes.
A sweet, rancid scent mingled with decay and toxic steam wafted and spread in the turbulent air currents stirred up by their fierce fight.
Where the scent passed, the roadside grass quickly withered and blackened, curling into charred, twisted shapes.
Were it not for the Nine Yang Red Skill’s extremely yang and sturdy qi and blood suppressing the spread of the poison, he might already have changed his nationality to a Black person from Zone 7.
Of course, the two of them already looked quite miserable enough, and indeed they were truly very miserable.
Both of them were capable of catching up with Zuo Bai and becoming a cripple.
But the one suffering the most wasn’t the two of them, it was... the taxi caught between them.
It was ruthlessly torn, crushed, and trampled by both of them together.
Its body was long disfigured, the iron skin covering it like fish scales scraped by a peeler, twisting off in large sheets, exposing the equally scarred steel frame beneath.
The exposed steel frame was covered in shocking claw marks, fist imprints, and penetrating wounds.
All the windows had already shattered into pieces, the seat foam like innards split open, miserably drooping on both sides of the car door, swaying precariously with every impact.
The pitiest were the four tires, two completely burst, the twisted rims like soda cans trampled by an elephant;
The other two, though still hanging on, were deflated beyond recognition.
It sat there, battered in the center of the two, silent, without a word.
Yet the whimpering sound of night wind piercing through it seemed like it was unleashing the world’s most wretched lament.
Is this what they call the old legend, where the top dogs fight, and the third one takes the hit first?
Anyway, Zuo Bai probably couldn’t return to his "safe haven" anymore.
And as for the villa where the taxi was parked, he couldn’t go back there either, and of course, shouldn’t stray too far.
So he could only first find a hidden shadow, hide, stop the bleeding, observe, and make further plans.
He had an idea and then tucked and rolled into the nearby bushes...
The hunched old man, despite being locked in a life-or-death fight with the tall Night Watcher, always kept a part of his mind on the neighboring villa.
When Zuo Bai coincidentally broke in and rushed into the special agent’s villa, the hunched old man’s heart leapt to his throat.
When another Night Watcher (Feng Yuhuai) chased in like a mad dog, his heart tightened even more, almost leaping out of his throat.
He wanted to rush inside with them, but the tall Night Watcher was clinging onto him like a leech, fighting relentlessly.
In the blink of an eye, the two exchanged dozens of blows, claw gusts and fist shadows intertwining, both bearing painful costs.
The more they fought, the worse it got, the worse it got, the fiercer they became, the fiercer they became, the worse it got.
It was mutually destructive, the fight burning intensely with true fury.
Until the second-floor window shattered, Zuo Bai alone burst through it and disappeared into the bushes.
Zuo Bai getting out wasn’t the issue, the issue was—the other Night Watcher didn’t come chasing after him?!!
The hunched old man felt the blood in his veins freeze, his heart pounding against his ribs like mad in his chest.
Yet at this moment, the brain of the sixty-year-old was working swiftly, conjuring up the worst guess:
"That Night Watcher didn’t come after Zuo Bai, but stayed in the villa because there was something more important in there than Zuo Bai that attracted her?"
And in the special agent villa, what could attract a Night Watcher?
The answer was obvious—it could only be that Sheepskin Scroll.
He wouldn’t doubt those two went into the special agent’s villa for the scroll, but with the destructive way they were fighting, wasn’t it entirely possible they accidentally blew out a scroll from the villa?
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