Era of Magic and Martial Arts

Chapter 390 - 374: Wanting to Step Over the Ant Without Crushing It...

The slithering, slender tongue stretched out like a venomous snake, eerily extending as its wet surface slid across the window glass, leaving behind a sticky trail.

The phosphorescent patterns on the tongue glowed intermittently, resembling the breathing rhythm of some unknown creature.

The tongue traced along the aluminum window frame, making the metal surface tremble slightly with a soft "buzzing" sound.

The handle inside the window seemed to be pulled by invisible threads, silently turning half an arc.

Click—

"Not like? Not like what?"

Zhao Xing’s pupils contracted sharply to the size of pinpoints, instinctively stepping back half a step, as if his blood was boiling, roaring through his veins.

The muscles in his right arm bulged, veins popping, swinging round like a hammer, aiming at the bald face with black teeth in front of him.

Cloak Hammer Ape Strength•Shocking!

In that moment of panic, this swing gathered all of Zhao Xing’s blood and energy, leaving nothing behind, launching with his strongest killing move.

As the swing struck, the air was compressed into visible ripples.

A faint bronze sheen surfaced on Zhao Xing’s fist, a sign that the Cloak Hammer Ape Strength had been honed to Great Success.

The bald man was still grinning, his mouth full of black teeth unmoved, his body bending backward in a manner defying the laws of physics, like a paper fluttering in the wind.

"Boom!"

The fist’s wind brushed past the bald man’s nose, crashing heavily down.

This miss made the computer screen on the table shake violently, the monitor base emitting a strain-laden "creaking" sound, as if it might be crushed into debris the next second by this fierce power.

At the critical moment, a soft sigh emerged from the darkness:

"I told you to take it easy, can’t you understand human speech?"

From beneath a shabby old shirt, a hand lazily caught Zhao Xing’s fist.

The hand clasped loosely, without much strength, like the frail and loose skin and muscles of an elderly person.

"Courting death!"

A gleam burst forth in Zhao Xing’s eyes, his fist force surging out.

He could already envision the palm being pounded into minced meat.

However, in the next moment, his expression froze.

The hand remained unmoved, like a majestic, immovable five-fingered mountain.

Even eerier, Zhao Xing felt his fist’s violent strength being absorbed by some invisible force, like punching into a bottomless mire.

"This..." Zhao Xing’s face showed an expression of horror.

Before he could react, a creepy and horrifying force rebounded from the hand.

Unlike his fierce and aggressive fist force, it was like an endlessly flowing tide, with a sinister and sticky sensation.

Zhao Xing could see with the naked eye a bizarre ripple forming on the surface of his fist, the skin and flesh undulating and forming uneven folds.

"Ah!"

The intense pain made Zhao Xing let out a low growl.

The force spread up his arm, the folds resembling endless waves, passing from the back of his hand, to his forearm, and to his upper arm... all the way up.

His arm began to tremble uncontrollably, the capillaries on his skin showing a faint green-black hue.

Even more terrifying, the force showed no sign of stopping, heading straight for his head.

Zhao Xing’s temples started pounding, his eardrums ringing with sharp pain, as if a blender was stirring his skull, the next second, fresh hot brains might just pop the "lid" and emerge.

"Captain, go easy, it’s not brain harvest day today."

Outside the window, a red-clad spider crawled in, pressing its body tightly against Zhao Xing from behind.

Zhao Xing immediately felt the terrifying tremor as if finding an outlet, being drained away by the curvaceous physique behind him.

"Saved!"

Zhao Xing’s head was dizzy, he still felt something was off,

"Hold on, behind me, where did the woman come from?"

Zhao Xing’s brain was foggy, then he felt an unusual softness wrapping around him, the touch cold and slippery.

Rolling his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a pair of pale, almost translucent arms slowly climbing onto his shoulders, slender and slender, nails painted a scarlet red.

It should have been an alluring and charming scene, but Zhao Xing’s heart sank to the bottom, because the rescued computer screen reflected a terrifying scene:

The joints of the woman’s arms were twisting at an incredible angle, coiling around his arm, like two twisted, filled pastries.

"What the hell is this?" Zhao Xing’s scalp was tingling and splitting.

He felt those arms tightening, with an astonishing force.

Even more terrifying, his thighs were also wrapped by something—those were the legs of the red-clad woman, so pale with not a trace of blood, beneath her skin faintly visible, green-black veins.

In the reflection of the computer screen, he appeared to be entangled by four white water snakes.

Zhao Xing felt a chill run up from the soles of his feet.

He tried to struggle, yet found the entwined limbs growing tighter. The red-clad woman’s arms seemed boneless, capable of bending and deforming at will, trapping him firmly.

What terrified him even more, he felt something cold moving down his skin—it was a strange tongue.

It protruded from the red-clad woman’s mouth, moistly wrapping around Zhao Xing’s neck, leaving a sticky trail.

The tongue trembled eerily, seemingly greeting Zhao Xing:

"The Captain told you to take it easy for your own good, after all, trying not to crush an ant with a step requires careful strength."

The bald man withdrew his hand, circumventing Zhao Xing, righted the fallen chair on the ground, then slowly sat down on it.

Zhao Xing’s limbs moved mechanically like a puppet, dragging wet marks on the floor with his toes, he stared in horror as his hand unlocked the window.

Zhao Xing was clueless about what the woman controlling him intended, but he had a strong ominous feeling, his terrified rage erupted:

"Who on earth are you, what do you mean to do to me?"

The Red Dragonfly slowly retracted her tongue, manipulated Zhao Xing to cautiously extend his head out of the window, whispering softly:

"Someone paid for your life, we’re here to deliver the goods. The trouble is, they want you to die by accident, but it will soon be over, no noise, it’s coming!"

Zhao Xing’s head, along with his neck, was already outside the window, the height of eleven stories shrinking the vehicles below to beetle size.

He stared wide-eyed at the ground, the torrential rain suddenly attacking, cold raindrops like countless needle points hitting his face, causing goosebumps all over his body.

He stared intently at the ground, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

The suffocating fear rushed over him like a tide, he seemed to comprehend the woman’s explanation, yet not entirely.

He wanted to shout, to resist, but all that came from his throat were low whimpers, his voice hoarse and vague, as if trapped in the stormy curtain:

"Coming, what is coming?"