The dull light from the light bulb dangling on the iron wall illuminated the boiling crucible on the table and the cluttered metal shards.
Beyond the thunder outside the door and the torrential rain hitting the ground, the enclosed space harbored only murky breaths, akin to a bellows.
Red Gloves, his upper body bare, gritted his teeth as he bandaged the mangled flesh on one side of his body. As he peeled off the gauze stuck to his flesh, bright red blood oozed from behind the torn scabs.
It was as if countless blades had been jammed in; the tiny cuts opened like so many little pink mouths, spitting out crimson saliva.
"FUXK! That freak high schooler from Dongxia..."
Red Gloves cursed under his breath, picked up the spray can, and pressed it against his wounds. A green mist fizzed upon contact with his body, as if acid had landed on an alkaline solution.
Amidst suppressed howls of agony, the pale green fog seemed to come alive. It burrowed into his wounds thread by thread, and immediately, that entire side of his body squirmed like a nest of snakes.
He collapsed onto the ground, convulsing in agony, unable to hold back the pain any longer.
Something was battling within the shell of his body. Soon, clotted blood and fragments of organs flowed from the wounds, carrying a deep green tinge and streaks of ash-like dark color.
That was the poison of "Changgeng," desperately squeezed out from within...
If it had been anyone else, they probably would have died by now, right? If it were not for his Stigmata·Taxim turning his shell into a temporary zombie state, he surely couldn't have endured this kind of poison-against-poison attack.
In just a few seconds, he was drenched in sweat, which mixed with the already rotting blood oozing from the wounds.
He looked like a living corpse dragged out of a coffin by tomb raiders.
But no matter what, he was still alive.
Even this brush with death made him more confident about advancing to a Night terror and entering the Fourth Stage.
When the alarm went off, he finally had the strength to rise from the ground. He picked up the pliers and poured the silver liquid from the boiling crucible into an iron cup.
SIZZLE.
That was no palatable drink but a pool of boiling metal solution!
Even though he was now half-zombified, Red Gloves hesitated for a long time before lifting the cup, knowing that the Silver Blood Potion he had quickly concocted only worked when in liquid form.
He made up his mind and downed it in one gulp.
Amidst intense burning pain, he almost believed his esophagus and mouth had been scorched to carbon, but that was the necessary price.
The liquid, fatal to ordinary people, was actually a rankless Miniature Stigmata—a short-lived miracle carried in a liquid metal container, capable of repairing damaged Stigmata and flesh for a brief moment, much like universal glue.
The technology to keep it liquid at room temperature was an Alchemy Workshop secret, never to be disclosed. In his haste, he could only mix up this version with dire consequences as a stopgap solution.
Soon, the mangled flesh on one side of his body began to heal, the wounds shimmering with streaks of metallic light. The solidified iron merged with his flesh, re-bonding his almost shattered shell.
The intense torment drained the remnants of his energy, making him even groggier, on the verge of fainting.
His trembling palm searched his pocket for a package, unwrapped it, took out the incense inside, and lit it with his own Source of fire.
Wisps of smoke entered his nostrils.
His pale face gradually regained some color, and his depleted energy slowly recovered a little under the stimulation of the incense, but it was less than one-tenth of his normal state.
The convenience of red and blue potions in online games is ultimately unrealistic. Even if available, the production cost would be so high that a single dose could sell for millions of yuan; after all, they are life-saving items when it matters most.
Metal repairs the body, incense maintains the soul—this is the daily routine of every Border Sublimator.
Only now did he finally withdraw his hand and bring the long-vibrating phone to his ear to answer.
"It's me. I'm still in Xinhai."
"What's the situation?" asked the person on the phone.
"I've taken some damage, and I'm still bleeding. Luckily, I had the Spade 4 you gave me; otherwise, I would have really been captured."
With one hand, he struggled into his coat. "The whole of Xinhai has now been completely filled with the Astronomical Society's wires. Even the spare safe houses have been discovered... Don't worry, I'll leave at midnight. I've prepared my own exit, and I won't leave a trace."
"Be very careful and don't stay in Current Circumstances any longer. Come back as soon as possible."
The person on the phone added a final instruction, "Although the wedge in Xinhai hasn't been removed, it doesn't affect the overall situation—your mission is already complete. Soon we will be able to open a passage to Magic City... If the situation becomes critical, make your own judgment. Prioritize saving yourself."
Red Gloves indifferently hung up the phone and began to destroy everything that couldn't be taken. It wasn't long before he finished.
The time was 11:15 PM.
It was time to leave this city of the living dead...
BANG!
Suddenly, a rumbling collision was heard in the distance.
Red Gloves startled and turned to look at the surveillance screen in the corner.
Someone was coming.
He opened his palm, summoned the fish tank, and peered into it as if looking into the water.
Just outside, a red sports car had crashed headlong into a mountain of stacked containers, belching black smoke.
A car accident?
「. . .」
"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH... COUGH, COUGH, COUGH..."
Amidst thick smoke, Huai Shi clambered awkwardly out of the car, his head spinning and feeling groggy. The icy cold downpour awakened him.