Chapter 700: Chapter 631: I’m Mutating? Blame Me?!!_2
It’s over!
The Sheepskin Scroll might have fallen into that Night Watcher’s hands now!
No!!! That’s the Young Master’s possession; no one can take it!!!!
Furious to the extreme, the old man’s face twisted ferociously, his cloudy eyes filled with spiderweb-like blood vessels, almost bulging out of their sockets.
With veins protruding from his neck, his roar mixed with a bloody smell, and saliva spraying everywhere:
"Get away from us ah ah ah ah ah——"
With a thunderous shout, he channeled all his martial power and overwhelming rage into his right leg, delivering a whip kick fiercely onto..... the battered taxi.
The taxi, already on the verge of falling apart, finally got KO’d and exploded into pieces.
The dismembered steel pipes, twisted tires, seat fragments..... disintegrated like a scattering of divine flowers, with a shrill whoosh, forming a barrage of "corpses," smashing toward the tall Night Watcher.
"You want me to leave and I’ll leave, huh, don’t think you’ll get away!"
The tall Night Watcher sneered thrice, his arm muscles instantly swelling even more, the red tone under his skin as vivid as a red-hot brand.
He neither dodged nor ducked, raising his arms high, bringing down a scorching heatwave on the flying "barrage of corpses" with wild swings.
Thud——!!!
Crack! Clatter——!!!
The continuous sounds of explosions were deafening, accompanied by rolling heatwaves and dust clouds.
When the dust settled, all that remained was a charred pit about a yard in diameter, at the bottom of which lay a pool of metallic sludge still smoldering softly.
The taxi’s vitality hit zero: "..."
Inside the villa, Wu Shou, who clutched his mouth tightly, stared blankly, a buzzing in his mind: "???’
My car is gone, am I out of a job?
Losing a job isn’t terrifying; what’s terrifying is that I can’t drive for [Destiny] anymore?!!
In the distance, as the old man took advantage of the tall Night Watcher disposing of the taxi remains, his skinny legs erupted with astonishing speed, the soles of his cloth shoes tearing during the sprint and his bony toes puncturing through the shoe tops.
meters!
meters!
meters!
meters!
...
The distance shortened rapidly; his left foot had already stepped on the stone steps of the villa’s forecourt, needing only one more step to break into the covert ops villa.
Just as he set down that foot, a cold synthesized voice came from behind.
"Where do you think you’re going?!!"
The old man barely turned his torso when a tremendous force slammed into his back, sending his body flying like a kicked sandbag, skidding a considerable distance along the ground.
meters!
meters!
meters!
meters!
meters!
....
Just as he had dashed over with effort, now he flew back effortlessly.
And at even greater speed, flying 1 meter farther, only exchanging his left-right position.
The old man, supporting himself with one hand on the ground, got up, eyes nearly popping out as he looked at the villa entrance just within reach, yet seemingly miles away.
The old man felt a rush of reverse blood surging to his throat!
The splintered entrance, like a giant mouth mocking him.
Can’t get in?
Within reach... an eternity!!!
Before he could catch a breath, his view got blocked, as the tall Night Watcher, steaming heat all over, stood between him and the villa entrance.
This time, there was no third party between them, only the cold air, and an even colder killing intent.
The old man’s eyes seemed to be on fire, spewing flames that could devour a person.
Is it really that difficult for us to come to the Lower City, kill Young Master Kuangyan, and take a Sheepskin Scroll?
Huh?
Young Master Kuangyan is already dead!
Yet we still can’t take the Sheepskin Scroll?
The key is, the person blocking him was simply inexplicable! Unreasonable! Like a mad dog!
The old man was about to lose it, no longer able to bear it, he let out a hysterical scream:
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah——!!!!"
In his memory, the last time he howled so miserably in despair was when he discovered he could no longer stand and pee.
He stared deathly at the tall Night Watcher, incoherently roaring in anger:
"Ahhhhhhhhh——
That treacherous scientist, Zuo Bai, we don’t even know him, we are not even called Old Huang.
You fool, have the Night Watcher’s brains all been eaten by dogs?
Damn it, you deserve to die, he deserves to die, and so does he, ahhhhh, all Lower City people deserve to die ahhhh——"
The tall Night Watcher faced the hunched old man who was on the verge of madness, the pitch-black mask like a deep well, revealing no expression inside.
He raised his hand to the wound on his chest, finger scorching as he gouged out some rotting flesh and tossed it to the ground carelessly:
"It’s not important. Anyone who attacks a Night Watcher shall be killed without mercy."
The mechanically synthesized voice was cold and chilling, no different from the verdict just pronounced on Zuo Bai, utterly impartial.
The hunched old man let out a hoarse sneer:
"Zuo Bai was the one who struck first. He is the one most deserving of death! Why don’t you chase him?"
The tall Night Watcher shook his head, his voice, synthesized under the mask, carried an eerily serious tone:
"The damage you caused by your attack is greater, you are more deserving of death, and you are too emotional now, at risk of mutation, and must be dealt with first."
If Feng Yuhuai was righteously saying things she herself didn’t believe, then the tall Night Watcher was sternly proclaiming the "justice" he would follow to the end.
"I’m emotional? I’m mutating?"
The hunched old man grew more agitated, his smile more twisted and morbid, both angry and amused,
"Blame me, hahahahaha——, blame me?!!"
His sallow skin suddenly turned an unhealthy red, and veins beneath his skin bulged like awakened venomous snakes, winding and protruding on the surface.
The dry skin couldn’t withstand the pressure and began to crack inch by inch, oozing fine beads of blood.
His hunched back made a series of cracking bone sounds as it straightened inch by inch.
The muscle at his maimed elbow seemed to come alive, writhing and growing crazily.
This sight was just as if the tall Night Watcher’s prophecy was coming true, as if he was indeed mutating on the spot.
"Ee—yah!!"
A non-human screech burst from the throat of the hunched old man, as blinding blood light spewed from his pores.
The wrinkles on his face grew wildly, yet his body seemed to rejuvenate, muscles becoming full and taut, his speed and strength climbing steadily.
What he used was not Xiaoliuzi’s Blood Burning Technique, but an advanced version never mastered by Xiaoliuzi, the Soul Burning Technique.
Its power was stronger, and naturally, so were the side effects.
The hunched old man, no... the now upright old man Xiaojiu, suddenly transformed into a blood-colored afterimage, tearing through the air, fiercely lunging at the tall Night Watcher.
Everywhere he passed, the ground’s bricks and stones shattered, crushed into powder by the surging outflow of blood and energy.
Bear in mind, beyond releasing blood and energy is Gang Qi!
Gang Qi is a hallmark of a seventh-grade Martial Artist, only a very talented peak sixth-grade Martial Artist might condense Gang Qi early.
Xiaojiu wielded his single arm, his shadow forming a continuous blood-red curtain.
With a flick of five fingers, a foul-smelling poisonous mist materialized, colliding with the tall Night Watcher’s burning red iron fist.
"Boom!!!"
At the moment of fist-claw contact, the poisonous mist and heat eroded each other, unleashing an excruciating "sizzle."
The air currents at the collision center were forcibly compressed into visible blood-red ripples, exploding outward.
.....
Meanwhile, Zuo Bai clutched his bleeding groin, stealthily moving through the pitch-black underbrush.
From a distance behind, the occasional howl of "Old Huang" filled with resentment, frustration, and impotent rage drifted over.
The voice was hoarse and grating yet inexplicably pleasant and infectious.
As he listened, Zuo Bai’s groin pain seemed to diminish slightly, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily curled upward imperceptibly.
He’s had an extraordinarily unlucky streak lately, one misfortune after another.
To speak of it would bring tears, summarized perfectly as a "heart-wrenching misery."
Thus, his mood had been very repressed, very depressed lately.
However, at this moment, listening to "Old Huang’s" hysterical wails, Zuo Bai suddenly felt that maybe... things weren’t so bad?
He felt a slight restoration of good spirits.
This was an exceedingly subtle, even somewhat unethical, mentality.
Like a person who fell into a mud pit seeing another fall into a pit of filth, mouth agape, cursing viciously; even if their own situation hadn’t improved, their mood would inexplicably brighten, perhaps even causing a wry smile?
And if that person was pushed into the pit of filth by their own hand, the resulting happiness might multiply tenfold.
Zuo Bai was having just that kind of feeling now.
More delicately, "Old Huang" was caught in misfortune because he saved him.
So, according to the law of conservation of misfortune, did "Old Huang" absorb the misfortune off him?
In other words, his own misfortune had decreased!
"Could it be..."
Zuo Bai’s eyes slightly brightened, mumbling to himself,
"Am I about to turn my luck around?"
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