Chapter 134: The Living Corpse and the Werewolf

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four
The Living Corpse and the Werewolf

The one running at the front was Maric. His slightly messy hair had been completely swept back by the wind, and his face wore an expression of twisted ferocity.

His speed was faster than a steam train at peak velocity. With a whoosh, he arrived at the entrance to the open space.

But even so, he still had not managed to shake off the pursuer behind him.

Closest to him was a man whose face was just as pale as his. Several faint dark patches marked the other man’s cheeks, like traces left behind after rotting wounds had healed. The malice in his eyes was utterly unconcealed, utterly unrestrained. He seemed more like a living corpse craving fresh flesh than a human being. Klein guessed this had to be Sequence 6 Jason.

Jason kept within seven or eight meters of Maric. The distance lengthened, shortened, lengthened, and shortened again, repeating back and forth.

More than ten meters behind them, another figure was being flung farther and farther away. He was a lean yet strong man with hair cropped very short, each strand standing like a spike.

As his arms swung, metallic light gleamed at the tips of his hands beneath the faint crimson moonlight. Those were black nails, one after another, as long as daggers.

Werewolf Tyre…

Klein silently recited the other party’s code name and name. In his mind rose the memory of walls drenched in blood, intestines hanging from protruding spots, and bloody severed limbs and organs scattered across the ground.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Maric fled with all his strength, while Jason clenched his teeth and chased with everything he had. At some point, the healed black patches on his face had grown swollen and translucent, as though rotten fluid might drip from them at any moment.

Where the two passed, puddles and liquid within the muddy soil rapidly condensed into white frost, freezing inch by inch.

The withered wild grass was lifted high by the wind of their passage, and as it slowly fell back down, it visibly rotted and decayed.

Suddenly, a pale hand extended from the frosted mud and grabbed accurately toward Jason’s ankle.

Pa!

Jason twisted his body and kicked hard, directly snapping that hand at the wrist and sending it flying away. At the severed end, the flesh had long since rotted away, and strips of white maggots scrambled to wriggle out.

Maric stopped, pinched his lips with his right hand, and blew a shrill whistle.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

At different positions across the open area, soil was lifted away, and corpses with expressionless faces sat up one after another.

At the same time, a cold wind abruptly spun. Countless transparent shades, as though smelling the scent of a feast of blood, surged toward Jason, none willing to fall behind. Some pulled at his arms, some tugged his calves, and some simply wrapped themselves around his head.

Jason halted and gave a humph.

Those shades were instantly sent flying backward. Some vanished with screams; others became lost where they were.

Almost in the same instant, Maric and Jason raised their right hands at the same time. Their thumbs lifted and rested beside their index fingers, while their index fingers aimed at each other.

Soundlessly, the air separating them exploded, causing wisps of black vapor to churn upward.

Maric retreated one step. Several strands of his messy hair instantly withered and drifted down.

“Maric, you are still so weak. You still do not understand how to use the power of desire!” Jason laughed hoarsely.

At that moment, Werewolf Tyre arrived beside him, while the Sequence 5 powerhouse responsible for this operation, Steve, was still nowhere to be seen.

“Do not hurry to finish Maric. Wait for Sharron to come save him. Lord Steve will arrive very soon,” Werewolf Tyre said to Jason in a lowered voice.

Then he extended his crimson tongue and licked his lips.

“I wonder what Sharron looks like with her clothes off…”

Before his voice had fully faded, he suddenly saw Jason turn his head. The man’s pale face was gloomy and ghastly, and in his eyes, two identical figures had vaguely taken shape:

A black court dress, pale-gold hair, delicate features, and bloodless skin.

Pa!

Jason thrust out both palms and wrapped them around Werewolf Tyre’s neck. The creaking of bones that could barely support the pressure immediately sounded.

The Wraith Sharron had attacked!

Tyre abruptly inhaled, making his neck swell like a water pipe and sprout stiff black hairs, briefly resisting the force that sought to snap his windpipe and cervical vertebrae.

His eyes gradually rolled upward. His crimson tongue stretched out, and thick saliva dripped constantly from both sides of his lips.

Yet his right hand reached accurately and steadily into his pocket, breaking a preset spiritual shackle!

The entire open area and the surrounding warehouses abruptly brightened. Crimson moonlight flooded the whole place.

The strength with which Jason strangled Werewolf Tyre swiftly weakened. Behind him, the figure wearing a small soft hat appeared.

On Tyre’s face spread a smile of both triumph and cruelty. From his pocket, his right hand removed a miniature “full moon”—a crimson “full moon”!

It was a dark-red ornament that continuously radiated tranquil radiance. It was shaped like a round moon, with one crimson gemstone after another set around the edge. At its center were the symbol of the moon and many mysterious marks.

Sharron instinctively narrowed her eyes and retreated two steps. Her illusory, drifting feeling quickly receded.

Her legs seemed no longer able to support her weight. She collapsed softly to the ground, her intricate black court dress stained with dust and mud.

Holding that palm-sized circular ornament blooming with pale crimson light high above him, Werewolf Tyre panted and laughed.

“Lord Steve was right. You would certainly attempt to counterattack, and the one Sharron would possess and control would definitely be Jason, who is one Sequence above me. That is why he handed the Crimson Moon Crown to me.”

“Guess where he is right now?”

This… This is different from what Sharron predicted… Looks like I can only choose the best timing myself…

As Klein watched and listened, his brows furrowed, and he forcefully suppressed the restlessness constantly rising within him.

At that moment, Werewolf Tyre did not rush to attack, because he knew that the longer the Crimson Moon Crown’s effect lasted, the weaker Sharron would become and the more pain Maric would suffer.

As for Jason, his already cold eyes now contained a savage madness. Reason could no longer be found within them.

He was also affected by the Crimson Moon Crown. But because he was used to indulging desire, he did not feel pain. Instead, he became filled with craving for the fresh flesh before him.

“Hah!”

Jason released a low roar from his throat, a sound unlike anything human. The fine hairs on his exposed skin turned white one after another.

At that very moment, Sharron raised her arms with difficulty, removed the black glove on her right hand with her left, while Jason happened to pounce toward her. The soil around him was covered in a thin layer of ice.

Suddenly, endless illusory light burst from Sharron’s palm.

It devoured Sharron’s spirituality, weaving itself in front of the doll-like young lady into a bronze door covered with mysterious patterns and filled with an indescribable smell.

The door swayed and opened with a creak, revealing a crack!

From within the crack, pairs of arms—some pale, some transparent, some covered in teeth, some bloody and skinless—stretched out, crossed the void, and seized Living Corpse Jason!

Pairs upon pairs of indescribable eyes hid densely within the darkness behind the door, quietly watching the prey before them.

Jason had no time to react before he was caught by those arms, wrapped by those slippery, illusory tentacles, and bound by bluish-black vines from which infant faces protruded!

Those strange things wailed and shrieked with laughter, doing all they could to drag Living Corpse Jason behind the door.

Even though Jason’s thoughts were now entirely controlled by bloodlust and murderous desire, he still instinctively felt fear.

“Hah!”

The sound from his throat suddenly intensified. Layers of frost instantly formed upon those arms that made one’s scalp prickle, while the bluish-black vines bearing infant faces gave pained groans as turbid yellow fluid like rot continuously dripped from them.

The pulling force slowed, but it did not disappear.

Jason repeatedly drove ghosts to interfere, but it was like throwing stones into the sea. He tried using spells from the death domain, yet they failed to produce much effect.

His body moved, uncontrollably and firmly, step by step toward the crack in that illusory, mysterious door. From time to time, he could still struggle backward a little.

Because Maric had taken one vial of sedative beforehand, he was not completely felled by the pain. Seizing that chance, he took out the final two sedatives, snapped their tubes open, and—glass shards included—drank one and a half vials in a single breath.

The malice suppressed within his eyes weakened. The twisting of his face returned to normal. His gaze swept toward Werewolf Tyre.

At the same time, with a whoosh, Tyre’s lean yet strong body vanished from where it had been, reappearing more than ten meters away.

When his figure outlined itself there, the original position still retained an illusory afterimage. A black vapor like something alive rose from the ground, pierced through the remnant image, then swayed and vanished.

What Tyre had used was not Flash. He did not possess Beyonder abilities in that field.

What he relied on was the extreme speed granted by the Crimson Moon Crown!

Speed that could drag out afterimages!

And at that moment, hidden in the darkness atop the warehouse, Klein also reached his left hand into his pocket, touched the iron cigarette case, removed the Spirituality Cage on its surface, and lightly opened the box.

He believed Wraith Steve must have already arrived at the scene. Otherwise, if this stalemate continued, Jason would definitely be dragged behind that terrifying door; and even with the Crimson Moon Crown’s enhancement, Werewolf Tyre would not be able to finish off Maric in a short period. At that point, Sharron could aim her Mysterious Door at the Werewolf, and the Crimson Moon Crown would change owners.

The moment Klein’s fingers touched the All-Black Eye inside the iron cigarette case, his mind was filled with mad, filthy, terrifying ravings!

They were horrible ravings that made his veins bulge, his eyes feel as if they might burst, and his head seem ready to explode at any moment.

And amid those ravings, Klein saw strange, mysterious, illusory black threads. They were divided into several groups: some extended to Sharron’s body, others came from Werewolf Tyre, crossing one another without tangling as they pierced into the void.

Among them, quite a few black threads came from a place not far from Maric, yet not overlapping with him!

Wraith Steve! He is going to possess Maric!

As the thought appeared, Klein withdrew his left hand.

He did not directly draw his revolver and fire. Instead, he snapped his fingers, making almost no sound.

Boom!

In the gap between the two warehouses, an explosion arrived without warning. Surging flames and hot currents sent a figure in a black double-breasted formal frock coat drifting out.

After using it to draw others’ attention, Klein swiftly drew his gun and pulled the trigger toward the position in his memory.

At the same time, a stream of light flashed across the dark-gold sunbird brooch on his chest.

He had attached Purifying Slash to a Purifying Bullet!

Bang!

The bullet flew out, trailing pale-gold radiance.