Nightmare's Call Chapter 168 - Situation: Part 2

Chapter 168: Situation: Part 2

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

It was too late to pull herself away as the five-meter wide, gigantic hand struck down from above. The concrete pavement under her feet caved in, her feet sinking half a meter in the ground.

Khadula turned around, face flushing as he looked at the unyielding Elba struggling under the gigantic hand.

“Big sister, what an impressive performance… I thought I would die just now…”

“Have… have you ditched your human body?” Elba’s face was ashen, gritting her teeth and biting the cigarette in half as she tried to push back the large hand over her head.

“Ditching my human body? Maybe.” Khadula smiled and walked up to Elba. “It’s game over, Big Sister. Why do you still resist?”

“Resist?” Elba’s face calm. “I think you must have mistaken.”

“Huh?” Khadula halted in his steps, instinctively feeling a sense of danger in the air. He suddenly realized he could not move his feet. He glanced down and saw his feet started to calcify from the soles up until the ankles. It was as if a coat of white paint was climbing up his feet.

Elba exhaled. “Don’t you like it, this posture?” She dropped her hands, leaving the giant hand above her head. Following immediately, the white hand shattered to bits and rained down like a shower of gla.s.ses to the ground. As that happened, Elba grew a pair of black wings that were as dark as night, without any imperfection, on her back.

“You should be proud of yourself to have forced me into this situation.” While speaking, Elba tidied her long blue hair. She then bent over, picked up her military cap from the ground, and put it back on. “Had you not killed the guy from the Starfury Clan, I could have let you go. But what a shame,” she said, staring intently at the young boy with a sophisticated face. She had a hard time making out the gender of the person by just looking at the face. Khadula was undoubtedly a stunning piece of art that was too precious to break.

“Am I beautiful?” Khadula asked in a soft voice, glancing down at the calcification that had now spread up his chest.

“Of course, you are.” Elba reached to touch her face. “But I still think I’m prettier than you are.”

A moment later, she sighed. “But saying this makes me bashful. I am a woman of conscience. Anyway, goodbye. Death is the only destiny for Darksider who has discarded his human body and failed to liberate themselves.” She turned and walked toward the car stopped not far away. “Goodbye. You are incredible, considering what you have achieved. I will keep that in mind, the Ironfist Society.” She waved and walked away amid the clattering of the calcification on Khadula’s body.

“Why don’t you let me be? Why do you want to kill me when I’m such a beauty?” a voice was heard saying. “Isn’t beauty almighty when I’m pretty and perfect? Why? Why does this happen? Why didn’t you die? Am I not pretty enough? It must be because of me. It must be because I’m not pretty enough!”

As the hurried voice rose, Elba sensed something was amiss. Supposedly, the entire calcification process should have completed by now, and the young boy should have become a bone statue three seconds ago. Why was he still talking? She halted in her steps as she saw a shadow on the ground.

“Impossible!” She slowly looked back, her neck stiff. Khadula had disappeared behind her. Instead, a six-meter-tall, yellow-robed old man, with multiple white arms that looked like a centipede, stood in his place. That was not all. The arms on the old man were growing larger and longer, his skin turning dark-yellow and looking tougher than before. The old man’s face was inanimate, and a large tumor, which appeared to be the face of Khadula, was on his chest.

“Now, I’m even more beautiful.” Khadula spread out his arms, many of them, making rounds of strange sounds.

“s.h.i.t!” Elba was transfixed, looking at the old man and not realizing that she was already in his shadow.

…..

On a deserted street, all-black motorcycles zoomed past at high speed. The roar of the engines of the convoy of about a dozen bikes sounded like a herd of angry beasts, and clouds of exhaust fumes blanketed the street. The leading rider was dressed in a full set of racing suits. The surroundings scenery flew past him in the form of reflection on his helmet visor.

“The target is on the move,” a voice was heard saying through the earpieces inside the helmet

“Copy that.” The rider suddenly made a sharp right turn and sped along the road.

“The dark energy flux has reached its maximum. Blackfeather has been activated. Reroute and circ.u.mvent the patrol units.”

“Go now.”

“Go Now.”

“Copy that.”

“Copy that.”

All the riders responded. The leading rider suddenly made an abrupt U-turn, the screeching rear tire leaving a half-circle of burn marks on the asphalt. As the motorcycle stopped, the rider alighted and took off the helmet, revealing a soldierly yet pretty face of a black-haired woman.

“Go!” With the wave of her hand, she led the charge and stormed through the front door into the Ironfist Society. With a slight push of her hand, the thick wooden door that had just been repaired not long ago fell inward with a loud crashing bang, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

Several disciples in the main hall were startled. But they quickly came to their senses and shouted, “Who is it?”

Just when one of them stepped up, a sharp object suddenly pierced through his chest with a m.u.f.fled sound, and the disciple fell dead to the floor on his back. The others were rooted to the spot, and before they could react, the rider threw several pointed darts at them, instantly penetrating through their chests.

The black-haired woman with a deadly glance swiftly dashed across the hall into the corridor on the side. “Location?” She halted her steps, looking at the other rider who came up beside her.

“Third room on the right.”

The woman strode over and violently kicked the door open. Inside the quiet room, Sarroux surged to his feet in shock while Lin Sheng was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed.

“Who is it?” A white light flashed in Surroux’s eyes, and he summoned his sacred power at once.

“President Lin Sheng?” The black-haired woman strutted inside, her eyes locking on Lin Sheng immediately.

“Who are you guys?” asked Lin Sheng, lunging to his feet. His heart sank as he realized most of his consciousness was still with Khadula.

The black-haired woman laughed darkly. “You don’t need to know who we are. All you have to do is to reveal your Ashen Seal cultivation techniques, and your and his life will be spared.”

“Frodo, just cut the cackle, take him and harvest his soul!” The second rider, apparently a male, strode in and said.

Lin Sheng remained composed, but he could sense a grave threat before him, as told by the tingling sensation on his skin.

“Soul-harvesting takes time. If they are cooperative, I may be able to save a ton of time.” The black-haired woman said coldly.

“Women just like to drag their feet!”

“If you say that again, I guarantee you will not walk out the door alive!” Frodo, the black-haired woman, hissed. The two stopped their internal bickering and shifted their attention to Lin Sheng.

Lin Sheng remained silent for a moment before he said grimly, “Do you two know what you are doing?”

“The master of your Headquarters is busy with the Pale Viper. He might not be free to come to your rescue.” The black-haired woman took a step forward. “Or are you thinking of doing a last-ditch struggle?”

“Struggle?” Lin Sheng closed his eyes. When he reopened them again, his pupils had turned light-gold. “Just the two of you?” He stomped forward, the dust under his right foot puffing up in the air as he pulled off a Triple Sacred Shield move. His body rapidly swelled, purple pattern appearing on his brow. He changed his fist into palm, striking at the black-haired woman in the form of a streak of white light.