Chapter 118 How could I believe Feng Mu's lies?
Tick-tock, tick-tock…
The sticky and smelly black juice dripped down to the feet of Dark No. 2 and formed a pool of mud.
His shoulder and half of his chest were cut open as if by a red-hot iron, leaving a huge gash.
The flesh was gone and several ribs were broken and torn off, revealing the blood-stained heart inside that was still beating wildly, with some disgusting rotten juice sticking to it.
Feng Mu felt a chill in his heart, thinking back to the first time he met his senior brother. Maybe he was only one step away from turning into mud? As a friend, Feng Mu felt his scalp tingling, but after the fear, he felt a sense of security.
His eyesight was not enough to tell what level of warrior the senior brother was, but it was obvious that he was extremely ferocious.
The [Black Face] that Feng Mu once feared could not even make it through a single round in the hands of the eldest senior brother and turned into mud.
"[Ronggui Sect] is worth it. I now have an extra high-level account to help me go into dungeons and level up. Well... maybe even more than one." Feng Mu was delighted.
The most important thing is that [Rongguipai] is particularly keen on organizing [team-building] activities, and none of them are picky. Even if they are asked to go to a "low-level dungeon" with themselves, all members are happy to do it and are ready to come at any time.
At this point, Feng Mu, who had previously been struggling over which prison to go to next, now had nothing to hesitate about.
Of course, we have to make use of the eldest brother's strong thighs. As for the 087 tactical team...well, we can find a way to have them transfer to another prison to join us.
"This way, we can have the best of both worlds!" Feng Mu was slacking off the whole time, feeling very happy. He could even take a short break in the middle to plan his next move.
The receiver was left with only his scalp tingling and his heart pounding with fear.
The receiver's throat was dry, his eyes almost popped out of his disfigured face, and he screamed in his heart, "The killing intention is obvious, the mind is disturbed and the body is disturbed. In the old martial arts era, this means that the strength is formed, the blood is fused and the spirit is gathered, and it is time to refine the marrow."
"According to the new martial arts standards, he must be at least a seventh-rank master."
"Why would such a person exist in such a remote area as District 9 in the Lower City?"
The receiver was confused. He felt like he was playing a game and as soon as he stepped out of the door he was in the low-level novice area and ran into the boss of the later map. He had an urge to curse.
The real world naturally does not have the level and regional divisions in the game. However, under the influence of complex real-life factors, the major forces often restrain each other and follow similar unspoken rules.
Just like placing pieces on a chessboard, the closer to the center the piece is, the more valuable it is, while the corners are often ignored.
After all, no matter which force a seventh-rank master belongs to, he is definitely among the top few and is an extremely scarce combat resource.
Taking the Ershi Cult as an example, a seventh-rank master is already the guardian of the cult. He usually just stays in the cult and rarely goes out. Even if he occasionally takes action, he will only appear in the "advanced map" with abundant resources but high risks.
For example, near the central city of the upper city, or in some high-risk hidden doors.
District 9 is the last district in the lower city ranking. This poor and remote place is almost unprofitable. Who would be so stupid as to send such combat power here to be wasted?
The receiver was secretly thinking about this and couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He was horrified and thought: "The fight for the black core is definitely not as simple as [Mask]'s personal behavior. Puppet Mother has even sent out her top minions. Puppet Mother is not taking the usual approach and is preparing to do a big job for the Corpse Cult."
The receiver was in despair. He admitted that although every word he wrote in the email was true, it was inevitably processed. It could not be said to be alarmist, but it was exaggerated.
After all, this is the rule of survival in the workplace, and the Corpse Cult is no exception.
After all, if subordinates do not appropriately exaggerate the difficulties encountered in their work and the challenges they are about to face when reporting to their "boss", how can they highlight their hard work and outstanding contributions and thus make reasonable requests to their boss?
However, the current situation forced the receiver to re-examine his judgment.
"In my email, I underestimated the severity of the situation. The reality may be far beyond my expectations. It seems that the sect's reinforcements have not arrived yet, but I will die here today."
"No, the help from the church was never going to come. I didn't even have time to send the email."
The receiver's disfigured face changed constantly, and a hint of cruelty suddenly flashed in his eyes.
The next moment, he took a step, twisted his feet, slid sideways, and appeared behind Dark No. 2 in a flash.
He raised his hand, put his five fingers together like a knife, and stabbed towards Dark No. 2's heart along the ribs that Li Bashan had cut open. The whole action was done in one go, so fast that Dark No. 2's brain could not react at all to what his companion was doing.
The receiver killed the man while shouting: "I have turned from evil to good. What you just said..."
Before he finished speaking, the receiver's fingertips had just touched the beating heart when he felt a warm liquid splashing all over his cheeks.
His breathing suddenly choked, and a foreign object suddenly fell into his open mouth. The object got stuck in his throat, blocking the rest of his words back into his throat.
"Want to steal someone's head?"
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At the critical moment, Li Bashan rushed forward and crushed Dark No. 2's head.
With a teeth-grinding cracking sound, Dark No. 2's skull seemed to be squeezed by a terrifying force and exploded like fragile tofu.
Blood and brain matter splattered everywhere, staining the evil tiger mask red, making it look even more ferocious and terrifying.
Li Bashan glared at the receiver fiercely, his eyes seemed to want to eat him.
The receiver quickly took two steps back and nervously coughed out a bloody eyeball with meat residue stuck to it.
Under the goat mask, Feng Mu gently covered his cheeks, silently sighing in his heart: "Big Brother is perfect in every aspect, except for the issue of food. He is really a bit too picky about food."
He sighed deeply, and said apologetically to the receiver who was digging his eyeballs out of his throat, "It's not that I don't want to spare your life. I gave you the chance, but you are useless."
The receiver silently wiped the blood off his eyeballs with his sleeve, lowered his head to meet the white eyes, not knowing whether the eyes were mocking his own blindness or mocking him for being blind.
"Hey--"
The receiver laughed in anger, flicked his finger, and popped the eyeball back into his mouth, chewing it with a crunch and swallowing it into his stomach.
"I always laughed at him for being stupid, but I never thought that I was even more stupid than him, believing your nonsense."
Feng Mu scratched the goat's cheek and said in a calm and understanding tone: "It's not your fault. Human nature is always greedy for life, and cultists are no exception. It's understandable."
The receiver gnashed his teeth, shook his head, spat out a mouthful of blood, and said in a fierce voice: "No, that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is that you and all of you are not the puppet mother's minions!!!"
…….(End of this chapter)
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