A sudden twist occurred in the midst of the fight.
When you plan to ambush and slash the throat of a little bastard, you are suddenly faced with a Mimic Messenger... and in their hands are twin submachine guns. They lift the dark muzzles and pull the trigger.
The fleeting shadow suddenly shuddered, flying backward without touching the ground. It lifted the Sickle in its hand as if twisting a key through the air.
An invisible gravitational force burst forth, drawing the bullets from Red Gloves toward it, converging around the Sickle like glowing red peanuts hovering around a bent iron branch.
As Red Gloves continued firing, more and more bullets suspended above the Sickle. Eventually, even the Sickle seemed to reach its limit, turned glowing red by the converted kinetic energy, and layers of cracks appeared.
Fortunately, just before the collapse, the sound of empty magazines echoed. The attacker breathed a sigh of relief and, with a wave of his hand, sent countless bullets CLATTERING to the ground.
It was a narrow escape from certain death.
As countless pieces of the ceiling fell, a bulky and bloated figure plummeted straight down from the second floor, aiming for Huai Shi. The guy was like a metal ball, his quivering fat glistening with iron. With his movements, his two large hands slammed together, fingers interlocking, aiming for Huai Shi's forehead and smashing down as if spiking a volleyball!
The wind howled fiercely!
The attacker had no doubts about the punch's power.
This punch, even if it smashed into the front of a truck, could flip it over. Dealing with mere flesh and blood was a piece of cake.
Then, he saw Huai Shi stand firm, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent.
Huai Shi took a deep breath.
He raised his empty hands behind his head, as if gripping something invisible, and roared with all his might. Suddenly, iron light condensed from midair, gathering between his fingertips, proliferating inch by inch until it outlined the ferocious form of an Iron Hammer.
The shape resembled the ferocious head of a Giant Beast.
The front of the hammer head was covered with countless overlapping scales, vaguely forming the silhouette of a wolf's head, even with two curved, sharp long horns extending forward from it.
At the end of the hammer head, the tightly closed scales and carapace suddenly shook. Six outlets burst open, and countless agonies converged into a scorching torrent, erupting from within with the power of rocket engines.
With a roar, the Iron Hammer broke through the air.
It was as if a Giant Wolf bellowed in anger, stirring up thunderous reverberations.
In an instant, the raised Iron Hammer accelerated beyond belief. Following Huai Shi's movements, it smashed forward—targeting the bloated Sublimator falling from above, entrusting all his strength and kinetic energy into this one strike.
"—Go!!!"
It was as if he had kicked a dead pig lying in the bushes.
A low thump was heard.
A faint sense of resistance traveled up from the Iron Hammer's shaft, and then, as if puncturing a bubble, an explosion erupted again amidst the thunder.
BOOM!
Before even hitting the ground, the fat Sublimator screamed, flung forward by the strike, flying straight ahead of Huai Shi.
The bloated body rapidly deformed under the smashing blows of the Iron Hammer. At the point of impact, a depression suddenly spread, creating waves of flesh. Wherever it passed, the iron-glistening fat disintegrated, and a waterfall-like mist of blood sprayed forth from the large hole in his chest.
Dragging a blood-red trail behind him, he crashed through one wall, then another, tumbling awkwardly on the ground until he finally stopped, dozens of meters later, in front of the factory's perimeter wall.
He had turned into a limp heap.
Witnessing this horrifying strike, the Sublimator holding the Sickle did not even have time to feel fear before instinctively seizing the opportunity. He boldly dove forward again, trying to bypass Red Gloves and launch an attack on Huai Shi's now defenseless back—a backstab!
Immediately after, he felt a chill at his back, a coldness in his chest.
Looking down, he saw a magnificent Sacrificial Knife protruding from his chest, yet no blood sprayed out, as the knife had absorbed all the blood into its blade. He could only feel his life rapidly draining away.
How is this possible...
He turned his head with difficulty and saw a flickering shadow, and a ghastly old face enveloped in a dark fog, its eyes cold and sinister, grinning wickedly at him.
It was like a Yin Soul.
No, it was indeed a Yin Soul, but how could it be...
In disbelief, he looked forward, seeing Red Gloves indeed standing behind Huai Shi. He couldn't understand—why were there two?
He fell awkwardly to the ground, his Sickle slipped from his grasp. Without the supply of Source Substance, it finally broke apart, inch by inch, at its limit.
Before he completely passed out, he heard an appreciative voice from Huai Shi:
"Qi Wen, well done..."
A second Yin Soul.
Since his return from the Witch's Night, the growth of the Mountain Ghost Stigma had once again brought new growth to the Ring of Nibelungen, nurturing a second Yin Soul.
And for some reason, when Huai Shi took out the Book of Fate and slapped it against its forehead, Qi Wen suddenly appeared, becoming Tool Number Two.
"What the hell is this?" Huai Shi was completely baffled. "Does this mean that everyone who bears a grudge against me will be damned?"
If this were in any fantasy novel, it would absolutely be the MO of an archvillain, something like tormenting the enemy's soul for hundreds of years.
If this archvillain were more despicable, there would be endless torment inflicted on some untouchable...
An untouchable with Qi Wen's face...
Just the thought of that scenario made Huai Shi shudder.
Although he felt disgusted inside, he quickly found that this Tool Number Two was quite useful.
Unlike Red Gloves' direct and fierce fighting style, this old scoundrel was cunning and cowardly, hiding in a corner, definitely not confronting the enemy head-on unless Huai Shi gave a direct order.