freeallnovels This scene in Chapter 37 is too disjointed.
This scene in Chapter 37 is too disjointed.
A dull thud resounded from the bottom of the reservoir, the power of the three homemade explosives being perfectly released in the enclosed water.
A massive column of water, mixed with crimson blood and murky green light, shot skyward like an inverted waterfall, followed by chunks of flesh.
A torrent of blood rained down on the entire new dock camp in an instant.
Old John and hundreds of Indigenous laborers had no time to escape and were drenched in the bloody rain.
However, the expected excruciating pain of internal organ corrosion did not come.
Conversely, when the rainwater mixed with the player's blood comes into contact with the skin or is even accidentally swallowed, a strange warmth instantly spreads throughout the body.
The burning, suffocating feeling in my lungs subsided like snow melting under the blazing sun. The cough no longer produced blood, but instead produced the sound of easy, relieved breathing.
Old John wiped the blood from his face and stared blankly at the huge reservoir.
The pale green pool water, which was originally churning with deadly toxins, is now becoming crystal clear at a visible speed, and even showing glimmers of pure light on the surface.
"A miracle...this is a miracle..."
Old John trembled violently, his knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the muddy cement ground.
To these laborers struggling at the very bottom of the wasteland, whose lives were worth less than paper, what they had just witnessed was incredibly tragic!
That brave warrior from another land, in order to cleanse the vile plague, did not hesitate to sacrifice himself to the point of being shattered to pieces, transforming into this divine punishment that purifies the world!
Some of the locals present were sobbing uncontrollably as they tried to recall what the hero seemed to have said before the explosion.
"He requests that his belongings be collected," Old John replied solemnly.
"To save us... sir!"
Several thuds.
One hundred or so strong men, some collapsed to the ground, others knelt in the blood.
They kowtowed frantically to the now-empty platform, and some even clasped their hands together, scooped up the blood mixed with mud from the ground, and licked it as if drinking holy water.
The extreme despair and shock completely shattered the faith of these indigenous people at that moment.
However, it was in this solemn and dignified atmosphere, which even exuded a sense of sacred religion, that...
A raspy, disruptive voice suddenly rang out beside the pool.
"Holy crap! Get out of the way! Who the hell stepped on my hand?!"
The bloody rain hasn't completely stopped yet.
The agents, the climbing snail, and Xiaoyu, along with several other players, were like hungry wolves spotting a bone. They plunged headfirst into the pool full of blood and frantically paddled around like dogs.
Sadness? Moved?
nonexistent.
In this group's dictionary, there are only first kills and looting corpses.
"I remember there was an iron pickaxe on the whole roasted lamb. I saw it fly over here with my own eyes!" The agent bent over and frantically searched the water tank.
"Get lost! I saw that pickaxe first!" The little snail kicked the agent without any politeness.
Turning his head, he yelled again, "Damn it, those tattered underwear are starting gear, even NPCs won't take them, who the hell shoved them into my hands? That pickaxe is good stuff, go find that one!"
This extreme, even somewhat insane, looting behavior, in stark contrast to the indigenous people nearby who were kowtowing and praying with tears streaming down their faces, was enough to drive anyone insane.
At this moment, the dense acid fog around the camp was being dispersed by the sea breeze.
In the shadow of several abandoned barricades, a pair of emotionless, sharp eyes stared intently at everything happening in the camp, like a ghost.
That was Bolton's top assassin: Nightcat.
His only mission tonight was to follow the trail of that suicide bomber and confirm the complete annihilation of the shipwreck area.
Having experienced the mind-blowing undercover operation last time, he was clearly more mentally prepared this time.
He gripped the dagger coated with paralyzing poison tightly, suppressing his heartbeat and breathing to a near-torsional state.
As a top-tier expert who fought his way out of the muddy wasteland of the shipwreck zone, he never believed in miracles; only corpses could be the confirmed truth.
He had expected to find a pile of corpses with rotting lungs here.
But now, he feels that his common sense has been brutally trampled on.
The toxic water has been purified?
Purification was achieved using human bombs?!
This group of outsiders, covered in blood, were not only immune to the blood-corroding fungus, but they even fought each other by the toxic pool over a broken iron hammer.
The night owl's brain is about to explode again.
He couldn't understand what kind of bizarre race this was. What normal person would use their own body as alchemical material for detoxification?
What army, after its comrades have been killed, not only does it not grieve, but instead robs their belongings like hungry ghosts?
There was no pity, no compassion.
At this moment, all that could be heard in the night owl's mind was the frantic blaring of alarms.
He silently raised the danger rating of the camp to the highest level.
This group of demons, who are utterly fearless of death and defy common sense, along with the mastermind behind it all who has yet to show his face but can perfectly orchestrate everything, are far more terrifying than the nobles of the Upper City.
We must not act rashly.
The night owl remained slumbering in place like a withered tree branch, its cold gaze continuing to scrutinize the situation.
Just then, the atmosphere in the camp suddenly changed.
"Wait... Holy crap! Stop fighting over it, look underwater!"
Iron Pot Stew Da Ne was originally watching the commotion from the sidelines, but when his gaze swept over the bottom of the now clear pool water, his expression suddenly changed, and he instinctively took two steps back.
The players stopped what they were doing, and Old John and the other laborers looked up in astonishment.
There was something unusual at the deepest part of that huge reservoir.
A very thick, green crystal, no bigger than a walnut, was not melted in the explosion, but instead was emitting a creepy glow.
"broken!"
As a survival expert who has been navigating extreme environments for years, the goose instantly realized what was happening and felt a chill run down its spine.
"The extreme physical impact of the explosion, combined with the high concentration of antibodies in the blood of the roasted whole lamb, is like overusing antibiotics in the wild!"
His voice trembled: "The core of this damn fungus didn't die; it was forced into a stress-induced mutation!"
As if to confirm his judgment, the faint glow of the green crystal suddenly became even more eerie.
The mutated core at the bottom of the water suddenly throbbed violently, like a real heart.
A highly toxic liquid, several times more concentrated than before and even viscous and blackish-green in color, suddenly spewed out from the core!
The pool, which had just regained its clarity, became murky and boiling again at a terrifying speed, as if ink had been added to boiling water.
The bubbles rolling on the water surface burst.
A nauseating, putrid stench instantly enveloped the entire pool.
"Back off! Quickly!"
The goose let out a loud roar.
He gritted his teeth, pulled out the dagger again, and slashed his palm. "Never mind, I'll try again!"
Bright red blood dripped from his wrist into the murky water.
However, a devastating scene unfolded.
This time, instead of retreating and dissolving as before, the mutated blackish-green venomous water swarmed forward like piranhas that had smelled blood.
The immune blood that this group of people were so proud of was instantly devoured by the core of the mother bacteria, just like a high-grade nutrient solution!
After absorbing the blood, the mother bacterium swelled to a whole size, and the toxic gas began to spread wildly outwards along the water's surface.
"It's over!" the little snail said gravely. "This camp is probably ruined!"
The agent was frantic: "666, there's a second level?! Are you trying to force a scripted death?!"
"Damn it! All those days of work were for nothing."
The players were dejected, while the natives on the sidelines were completely panicked.
The homemade explosives were all used up by strapping them to the whole roasted lamb, and the passive resistance to poison that we were so proud of has also become ineffective.
This reservoir is about to turn into a giant biological and chemical bomb.
"God..."
As Old John watched the Death Water boil again, the fervor in his eyes shattered instantly, replaced by a despair even deeper than before.
The hopes that had just been ignited for hundreds of workers were ruthlessly extinguished.
They collapsed to the ground, too exhausted to even run away.
Perhaps, I really shouldn't have disobeyed Lord Bolton...
In the shadows, Night Cat tightened his grip on the dagger. He watched the scene coldly, his eyes returning to their deathly stillness.
Sure enough, this poison is not so easy to cure.
It's time to leave.
Just as the night owl was about to turn and blend into the night, everyone in the camp was plunged into despair.