Chapter 67: Melee

"Ah hahahahaha!"

Imani laughed heartily, pushing his muscular strength to the limit against the rushing wind.

Clinging to his back at this moment were two people.

A veiled woman.

A dark-skinned, lean man.

Clang, clang, clang!

A layer of protective barrier was activated, enveloping all three of them within it.

Though the enchanted bullets from Zhan Lan's submachine gun were undoubtedly high in damage, it was clear that the protective skill unlocked by this member of the India Team was also of a remarkably high level, managing to deflect every single one of those bullets.

"Imani!"

Shouted the dark-skinned, lean man abruptly.

Facing the hail of gunfire, Imani reached out with a massive grip and grabbed his teammate.

As a reincarnator who had purchased the 80% muscle reinforcement of Younger Toguro—the cheapest yet most suitable attribute among the B-rank enhancements—Imani, who had grown up running with street gangs, found nothing more comforting than sheer physical strength.

As for the accuracy issues caused by excessive muscle mass?

In any other world, he might have had to worry about that, but here...

"Go!"

Whoosh—

A piercing whistle tore through the air.

His teammate, codenamed "Black Carbon," was hurled bodily by Imani.

Gale-force winds whistled past his ears.

Air resistance was instantly cleaved apart by the curved blade in his hand, propelling him toward Zheng Zha and the others at an exaggerated, breakneck speed.

Swing the blade, downward slash!

The cold blade shone like the moon, a stream of liquid-like light cascading downward.

Clang!

Mou Gang raised his other hand, his gauntlet catching Black Carbon's scimitar. At the same time, the internal Qi within his body surged in a cycle, transforming into a rolling, blistering heat. Ready to erupt, it surged outward from his palms, reversing into a geyser of raging flames that shot straight up into the sky.

Swish, swish—

The blade light flickered continuously. Like a swordsman straight out of a martial arts film, Black Carbon brandished the precious blade in his hand, hacking the flames to pieces and carving out a path to survival.

"Monkeys of the China Team, go to hell!"

At that very moment, Imani arrived.

A plain, unadorned punch. Yet at the sight of this single blow, Zheng Zha's pupils instantly constricted as he blasted backward.

Rumble!

The ground was entirely overturned. Centered around that punch, the earth across dozens of meters saw its edges curl upward, caving in by several meters.

Hiss—

Zheng Zha drew a sharp breath.

'What terrifying power.'

Power!

Much like Arnold, it was pure, unadulterated physical strength, entirely devoid of any blended energy circulation.

Precisely for that reason, it appeared all the more shocking.

'The India Team may be a weak team, but they can never be easily underestimated.'

Zheng Zha exhaled a breath.

That punch was something Zheng Zha could not deliver; he lacked such a solid and unyielding physical frame.

Yet!

Swish, swish, swish—

The sound of churning waves rose.

Unbeknownst when, a dark red river began to flow from beneath Zheng Zha's feet. Within a mere second or two, it expanded into a blood-red lake spanning over a hundred meters.

"What kind of ghost is this?"

Imani shouted aloud, his entire body nearly sinking into this sea of blood.

His muscles bulged all over as he stomped wildly against the ground, creating countless craters, yet he found himself entirely unable to leverage any force to propel himself out. Instead, he was like someone sinking into a quagmire, his two thick legs unable to be pulled free no matter what.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle—

Flesh began to emit the stench of being roasted.

"It's not water!"

The agony of the scorching heat, coupled with the corrosive sensation of his very marrow being sucked dry, made Imani realize the true nature of this blood pool.

It was not water.

It was flame condensed into a fluid state!

Crimson Flame Blood Sea.

This was the improvised name Zheng Zha gave to his skill: igniting blood energy into crimson flames, compressing it, and then expanding it into a domain-like annihilation technique.

Relying on the control granted by the first stage of the unlocked genetic lock, he had barely managed to pull it off.

Within this blood pool, every single inch of the bloody fluid was formed from highly concentrated blood flames. It inherited the tyrannical heat of blood flames, along with the marrow-sucking corrosive power of transformed water, making it virtually inescapable.

Zheng Zha knew his own advantages, just as he knew his greatest capital.

The mutated vampire bloodline was not a pure physical tank meant to trade blows face-to-face, but rather a spell-casting magic tank.

He could never unleash the terrifying brute strength possessed by Imani.

However!

What Zheng Zha could achieve far surpassed that by leaps and bounds.

Step!

The entire pool of blood shifted with Zheng Zha's movement, whipping up wave after wave of crimson billows.

"Ahahaha!"

Imani was thoroughly drenched, the skin all over his body feeling as though a layer of it had been melted away.

Charging forward, he threw a punch.

Imani wanted to shatter this pool of blood, but how could sheer physical strength ever extinguish "water"?

Blood waves were shattered, then reassembled, and then swept forward.

Layer upon layer of crimson waves corroded Imani layer by layer. The originally muscular giant of a man was left with barely any of his exaggerated muscle mass, reduced instead to a writhing mass of flesh clinging to a skeleton.

"Gurgle, gurgle—"

With his vocal cords thoroughly corroded, Imani could not utter a single complete note, left capable of nothing more than meaningless gurgling sounds.

The next second...

[You have killed one member of the India Team who has not unlocked the genetic lock. You are awarded one C-rank horror storyline and 2,000 reward points.]

[The India Team has been deducted 2 points.]

Even the final bones melted into the blood pool. Zheng Zha's complexion was somewhat unusually pale, while his eyes burned with the vampire's trademark crimson, making him look all the more like a legendary nocturnal aristocrat—alluring and enchanting.

'This move can still be refined. The blood flames can be compressed further, and I could perhaps reference the shape transformation of chakra...'

One had to admit.

Though Zheng Zha usually acted as dense as a gorilla, his combat IQ was practically maxed out.

At this very moment, he was still capable of pondering how to perfect his newly created skill, stepping ever closer to greater heights.

Clang!

Bang!

On the other side, Mou Gang's battle with Black Carbon possessed a distinct wuxia flair.

A brawler facing a swordsman.

Mou Gang's techniques followed strict, orthodox forms, while Black Carbon's swordsmanship was clean and decisive.

Parrying blow for blow, they fought with intense gusto.

Yet, this battle too was rapidly drawing to its final conclusion.

"Hah!"

Exhaling sharply to gather his strength.

Mou Gang concentrated his power in his lower dantian, refining his internal Qi and guiding it along his meridians straight to his fist. With a fierce punch, he unleashed every ounce of his strength without reservation, seizing a critical opening to strike straight at Black Carbon's chest.

Splat—

Black Carbon's blade descended, nearly cleaving Mou Gang's skull open before it became wedged tightly in the bone, unable to advance or retreat.

He took the full brunt of that punch head-on.

"Pfft—"

Hot blood spewed from Black Carbon's mouth.

Fragments of his fully ruptured internal organs, mixed with scalding blood, blistered his oral cavity and throat with burn after burn.

[You have killed one member of the India Team who has not unlocked the genetic lock. You are awarded one C-rank horror storyline and 2,000 reward points.]

[The India Team has been deducted 3 points.]

There had been three members of the India Team in the ambush, and in the end, only the veiled woman survived.

The other two were dead!