Whoosh—
A sharp, dazzling arc of blade light flashed before Wu Dahai's eyes. The three fleshy vines hurtling toward him were severed in unison. Gouts of blood mist erupted, spreading through the air and turning the streetlamp's glow into an eerie golden-red haze.
A tall girl in a high school uniform stood with her back to him, knife held in a reverse grip. Her long hair whipped in the wind, legs long and powerful. Like a divine warrior descended from the heavens, she planted herself squarely between Wu Dahai and "Grandpa Zhang."
Wu Dahai stared, dumbfounded. For a moment he forgot to be afraid. In all his life, this was the first time his heart had truly skipped a beat.
"Run."
Qing Ling didn't even glance back, her full attention locked on the enemy.
"Oh… oh—" Wu Dahai snapped out of it. He scrambled to his feet and bolted, still managing to call over his shoulder, "Beauty… be careful…"
By now, Grandpa Zhang had fully transformed into a beast that straddled the line between plant and animal. The facial features studding the "bud" oozed pus and blood blisters, gurgling with a voice that was equal parts ravenous and furious:
"Human! Human! Human…"
The vines at its base no longer rushed to attack. Instead, they coiled tightly around its own body, constricting inch by inch—like a giant meat grinder slowly tightening.
Gao Yang couldn't bear to describe the nauseating sight. Within ten seconds the air was thick with a pungent, metallic stench. Fighting the urge to vomit, he rushed forward to support the returning Wu Dahai. "Why didn't you fight just now?"
"I don't have a shred of combat power!" Wu Dahai declared without a hint of shame.
"But that move you did earlier was pretty badass," Gao Yang said, confused. "One snap and all the machines shut off."
"That was just a special voice-activated master switch. Snap your fingers and you can do it too," Wu Dahai explained.
Gao Yang was speechless. Bro… so you're even more useless than me? How the hell did you get into the organization? Backdoor deal? Or did you make your own backdoor? Is this organization even worth joining?
Whatever. Better to rely on yourself than on others.
"Got any more weapons?" Gao Yang shouted toward Officer Huang.
"There's a golf club in my trunk." Officer Huang kept his pistol trained forward while fishing his car keys from his pocket and tossing them over.
Gao Yang caught them, popped the trunk, and pulled out a sleek silver-white golf club.
Not far away, Grandpa Zhang's body had been completely shredded—except for the tumor studded with facial features, which could barely still be called its "brain." Everything else had become vines. More accurately: tentacles.
These tentacles were stitched together from intestines, organs, muscle tissue, and cartilage. A rough count put them at over twenty.
The current Grandpa Zhang resembled an inverted, mutated octopus sprawled across the ground.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh…
Three tentacles shot toward Qing Ling.
Her blade rose and fell in a blur—severed.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
Four more descended from above like whips.
Qing Ling rolled sideways, dodging the lashes. At the same moment, several tentacles that had crept silently along the ground in the shadows reached her feet.
Startled, she leaped backward.
The tentacles struck like cobras, one of them snapping around her pale ankle and yanking her hard toward the ground.
Bang!
A bullet snapped the tentacle in two.
Qing Ling ignored the pain, flipped to her feet, and with a reverse slash cut down the other three tentacles closing in.
She didn't dare linger. Long knife in hand, she sprinted sideways. In those few evasive maneuvers, she sharply observed something crucial: the tentacles moved fastest in a straight line radiating from Grandpa Zhang's center. Once extended, their lateral movement to pursue a target was noticeably sluggish.
She decided to circle him. Orbiting would drastically reduce the chance of being caught.
Bang—
Officer Huang seized the opening and fired three rapid shots at the "brain" in one second.
"AAAHHH… Human! Human! Human human human…"
Grandpa Zhang shuddered violently in agony, shrieking. Several tentacles retracted to shield the brain.
"The head is the weak point!" Officer Huang yelled to Qing Ling while slamming a fresh magazine home.
Qing Ling had already noticed, but she didn't dare charge in recklessly.
Twenty-odd tentacles, each flexible and brutally strong. Aside from her Tang knife, no ordinary weapon could sever them—and even when she did, they regrew almost instantly.
If she slipped even once, countless tentacles would wrap around her, drag her in, and the rest would converge to restart the "meat grinder." She would be crushed alive in excruciating pain, turned into paste, absorbed into the beast. Her eyes, mouth, nose, and ears would likely merge into that grotesque tumor, forced to endlessly chant "human human human…" alongside it, while the rest of her body became fresh tentacles to hunt more prey.
The mere thought of such a death made even someone as cold as Qing Ling feel her scalp crawl.
She had only one chance.
Failure meant hell.
Qing Ling took a deep breath. Suddenly she exploded into a full hundred-meter sprint, circling the target at high speed. The tentacles were drawn into the rotation, turning the scene into a grotesque merry-go-round.
After two minutes of furious circling, her speed began to drop. Both her usual sprint training and her Knife God talent were built for short, explosive bursts—not sustained effort. She needed a quick kill.
She still hadn't found the perfect opening, but she couldn't wait any longer. Her stamina was visibly waning.
"Cover me!"
Spotting a window, Qing Ling darted to the side with the fewest tentacles, blade raised, and charged straight in.
Seven or eight tentacles immediately retracted to defend. The remaining dozen or so converged from every direction.
Qing Ling closed the distance at breakneck speed, constantly adjusting her footing to dodge and sever incoming strikes.
The air was thick with blood mist. Amid flashing steel, Qing Ling moved like a bloodstained white butterfly dancing through a forest of tentacles.
Officer Huang wasn't idle.
He activated his Gun God talent, firing one precise shot per second to cover her—any tentacle that slipped past her blade was immediately shattered by a following bullet.
Everything happened in mere seconds.
Officer Huang emptied his magazine. Qing Ling was now close enough. With a nimble sidestep she evaded the final two tentacles, raised the knife high with both hands, and brought it down toward the "brain" in a devastating overhead strike.
In that instant, everyone was certain the brain would split open like a ripe watermelon.
But everyone had forgotten the severed tentacles littering the ground.
The moment they hit the pavement, they slithered back toward the main body at terrifying speed, hugging the surface.
Just as Qing Ling committed to the swing, a sharp pain lanced through her heel—countless returning stump tentacles hammering her Achilles in rapid succession. Her foot slipped. Though she quickly corrected her stance, the force in her waist was disrupted, and most of the power bled out of her arms.
A second later, her blade came down—severely weakened.
The strike was still fierce, the edge still razor-sharp, but it only cleaved about a third of the way through. Grandpa Zhang did not die. It let out a tortured wail. Several freshly regrown tentacles lashed out, slamming brutally into Qing Ling's waist.
"Ugh—"
The knife flew from her hand, clattering several meters away. Qing Ling rolled across the ground twice. She refused to give up. Still sprawled, she stretched her right hand toward the monster meters away and spread her fingers wide:
"Metal!"