Run.

Keep running.

Black No.1 felt like his lungs were about to explode, partly from exhaustion, partly from anger.

About thirty or forty meters ahead, a slightly hunched short figure wearing a black mask, revealing only a pair of mocking triangular eyes, was staring at him.

Black No.1 swore he didn't know this person at all, let alone could have offended him.

Today, he was merely secretly watching the Cyan Wolf Gang, hadn't even started anything when this short guy suddenly appeared behind him and bumped into him without any warning.

Then, like a flash, he ran off.

Black No.1 immediately sensed something was wrong and quickly gave chase.

This chase had been going on for nearly two hours now.

Several times he thought about stopping and giving up, the short guy would also stop and take out a phone and start tapping on it right in front of him.

It was his phone, damnit, what the hell could you be tapping for?

The phone might not have contained all sorts of secrets, but his random tapping made Black No.1 panic, his face turned green.

He had no choice but to chase again, and the short guy ran again.

He ran, he chased, but it was impossible to catch; he stopped, he tapped endlessly.

Black No.1 was full of questions, he just wanted to ask the short guy what he was planning, was his brain somewhat sick?

He actually sensed that the short guy was deliberately teasing and luring him, but the problem was, he had no solution.

He thought about calling for backup and getting some justice with a three against one, but the phone was with the other guy.

Besides, what Black No.1 didn't know was his two companions were possibly in no better situation, also giving him a frantic mental boost.

Black No.2 was chased by an officer for three streets, after a fierce fight, he barely escaped with one hand broken, four ribs cracked, and losing half his blood.

Even his beloved ant stick was taken, both his body and mind suffered a heavy blow.

Right now, he was hiding in someone's house, frantically dialing a number on his phone, with the corpse of the homeowner, neck twisted, lying at his feet.

Without the ant stick, even killing wasn't as enjoyable.

Zhang Hao woke from a state of feigned death on a garbage truck, his head and chest covered with bodies or limbs, a nauseating scent of blood mixed with the stench of trash surged into his nostrils.

He had terrible luck today, living in the same neighborhood as [Destiny] and was trapped inside by the Investigation Corps.

When the Investigation Corps broke in, he neither resisted nor dodged, but fell when hit by bullets, appearing lifeless, using Curse Art: Hanging Technique.

Those Investigation soldiers didn't treat him as human, even after he seemed dead, they pumped a few more bullets into his chest.

The following cleaners handling bodies were also very rough, causing secondary damage to his wounds.

He had been shot seven times, half of his internal organs were shattered, and now he was smothered under a pile of garbage, barely able to breathe.

Even with the Curse Art: Hanging Technique, he only had half a life left; if he didn't find a place for surgery, disinfection, sterilization, stitching... his remaining half-life wouldn't last.

Zhang Hao reached into his pants pocket for his phone, only to find it empty.

It must have fallen when he feigned death, or was taken by the soldiers or cleaners handling his body.

Zhang Hao struggled to push aside bodies, trying to crawl out of the pile of corpses.

The clattering garbage truck came to a halt.

Voices came from outside.

"Why are there so many broken bodies in this batch?"

"Can't help it, the Investigation Corps always sends them like this."

"Only six or seven tenths are intact, the rest can't be pieced together, yet they always get paid fully for wholes. It's truly a rip-off."

"Well, you'll get used to it, at least what they send is always fresh."

"Hmm, how do we divide this batch?"

"Already reserved by someone. Half package it up and ship it overnight to Hong Guang Laboratory; they're rushing us, the rest goes as usual, freeze it till Angel Sanatorium comes to pick up."

"Hey, what the hell…?"

Then there was chaos because they suddenly saw on the garbage truck behind, a corpse abruptly stood up.

Zombie?

Mutation?

Zhang Hao was also muddled in the head; it wasn't that he didn't want to hide anymore, but the pile of corpses was genuinely suffocating, he urgently needed to find a place to save himself.

He glanced at the few dumbfounded people, then at the iron sign on the distant gate — Zone 9 Orange Light Waste Plant.

It was indeed a waste plant, but why was everyone here talking about the business of the dead?

As a Cultist, Zhang Hao felt his worldview was shattered.

He quickly jumped out of the truck, gritted his teeth, and ran into the darkness, with hurried shouts behind him, followed by sharp whistles, and armed guards rushed out from the waste plant's iron gate.

This was truly insane!

On the other side.

Black No.1 once again stopped, out of breath, completely fed up with this chase game, turned to leave.

Buzz Buzz Buzz—

The phone vibrated, echoing sharply in the silent night, forcing Black No.1 to turn back hard, glaring at the short guy.

The short guy answered, thoughtfully turning on the speaker.

"Our base got exposed, couldn't find Hao, I'm injured, you gotta…"

On the other end came Black No.2's weak voice.

Click.

The short guy ended the call, his thumb and index finger pinching the phone and waving it, the provocation was unmistakable.

Black No.1 was completely enraged, fire virtually shooting out of his eyes, his soft-soled shoes sparking on the ground, his toes clawing into the ground, shredding the soles.

"You've utterly infuriated me!"

Black No.1 roared as he charged at the short guy, his speed surged as he turned fiery red, catching the short guy off guard and closing the distance from 30 meters to just 20 meters.

"Closing in, I can definitely catch him this time!"

Black No.1 took large steps, putting all his strength into chasing the damn short guy, the distance indeed closing.

The short guy dashed through three streets, Black No.1 followed.

The short guy darted into a thicket, Black No.1 followed.

The short guy entered an old, slated-for-demolition building, and Black No.1 followed as well.

The building was unlit, utterly dark, turning right in led to a staircase, and Black No.1 continued upward, running, reaching the 4th-floor corridor, suddenly lost sight of the short guy.

The corridor was long and narrow, with doors on both sides, some closed, some open, all empty, with faint, broken furniture visible inside.

The short guy was gone, maybe hiding in the surrounding rooms.

Black No.1 furrowed his brow, looking seven or eight meters ahead, where a phone lay on the ground, still glowing, the only light source in the corridor.

Black No.1 heightened his alertness, his eyes wide open, one eye on the phone, another scanning the room behind the doors.

He moved slowly, reaching out to push open the closed doors, alert to any ambush by the short guy.

Each door seemed unoccupied, until Black No.1 reached the phone, he paused and looked down, instinctively glancing at the phone.

The phone's screen went to sleep.

As the light extinguished, Black No.1's skin crawled, catching in the corner of his eye, a sinister ghostly face...

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