Era of Magic and Martial Arts

Chapter 570 - 554: Profound Insights Into [Destiny]

Recently, Dong Ping was plagued by bad luck. First, he was framed by Feng Ju and died tragically. Who knew that after his resurrection, the bad luck would still haunt him.

His attempts at avenging himself on Feng Ju’s children repeatedly failed, and he was instead beaten up.

After several setbacks, he finally realized the principle of "not involving the innocent" and decided to directly take Feng Ju’s life instead.

As a "living corpse" pawned to the Corpse Recovery Man, Dong Ping’s execution ability was now a thousand times that of his living self.

Soon, he found an opportunity to catch Feng Ju alone in an alley behind the Patrol Office.

To avoid drawing attention, he intentionally chose a moment when Feng Ju was alone for his revenge, so as not to bring disaster upon his still-living family.

With a swift slash, he gutted his enemy, and to vent his anger, he stuffed a few rats into his belly.

Yet, he was still not dead!

Clearly disemboweled and with rats crawling inside him, Feng Ju nonetheless stood firm and unyielding.

Did he encounter a ghost?!!

At that moment, Dong Ping suddenly sensed a strong air of death and instantly understood:

The enemy had already died before and was now in a state very similar to his own!

Dong Ping was terrified and fled in panic.

Feng Ju was already dead?

So did killing him again just now count as successful revenge?

The taxi driver eyed Dong Ping, who had fled back into the car, the resentment on the client’s body like a divided stream—half dissipating, the other half growing even darker.

He was at a loss.

He wasn’t sure whether Dong Ping had successfully avenged himself, nor whether the pawn contract should be fulfilled.

It felt like success, yet also like failure, much like feeling halfway through a bowel movement!

Schrodinger’s revenge?!!

The taxi driver felt a chill deep down, reckoning that the corpse recovery pawn business might completely fall apart.

He and Dong Ping sat in the car, staring at each other, unsure of what to say to comfort one another.

Just then.

The car door was suddenly yanked open.

The driver’s brow furrowed, and he instinctively wanted to kick the person out:

"Sorry, I’m about to finish my shift..."

But the last word stuck in his throat, refusing to come out.

He finally saw clearly that the newcomer was cloaked in a deep black robe like the night, with a matte black iron mask covering his face, holding shackles that gleamed with a chilling glow.

The chains bore faint dark red blotches, unclear whether from rust or dried blood.

This attire, rarely seen in person in Zone 9, was nonetheless widely known for its fierce reputation—the Night Watcher, respectably titled Black Yama.

To all evil organizations, the number one on the blacklist to fear indefinitely was always the comrades [Destiny].

Meanwhile, on another whitelist, the Black Yama was not first, but certainly among the top.

"Are you refusing a ride?!"

Black Yama’s voice was as hoarse as a raven’s caw, sending shivers down one’s spine.

Inside the car, the temperature plummeted, white frost rapidly spread over the windows, and even the breath turned into white mist.

The driver shook his head like a rattle drum, not daring to utter a sound.

If he dared to utter a single "no," by tomorrow, the "Corpse Recovery Man" name would be missing two characters, leaving only the middle one.

At that time, no fellows would come to collect his corpse.

Dong Ping had quietly reached for the car door handle, ready to slip away.

But when Black Yama announced the names of the "destination" aloud on the GPS, he hesitated and unintentionally sat back down.

——What’s there to fear?

He’s already a dead man; what more can Black Yama do to him?

So, the decrepit taxi went completely mad under the jarring GPS prompts.

In all his years recovering corpses, he’d never driven the car this fast, his foot welded firmly to the accelerator.

Never mind red lights; he wouldn’t dare stop even in a hail of bullets.

Only when the car came to a halt did he realize the entire vehicle was surrounded by gun barrels, red laser dots crawling densely over the car body.

"The GPS indicates the person is just below."

The driver said, trembling with fear.

The Night Watcher, Raven, ignored the circle of gun barrels completely, coughing twice as he stepped out of the car:

"Lead the way!"

The driver, feeling reprieved, dashed toward the well opening with a single leap, jumping down without hesitation.

Dong Ping gritted his teeth, steeling himself as he followed closely behind.

The Raven twisted his neck, his hollow eyes glancing at the armored command vehicle; his black robe billowed without wind, his figure vanishing from sight.

"Damn!"

Zhou Jian kicked open the car door, a look on his face dark enough to drip with water, saying,

"How could the Night Watcher be here? Damn it, could the report call be true, is there really a hideout of [Destiny] here?"

The vice-captain’s expression changed at the words, quickly whispering in a low voice:

"Should we continue the sweep?"

In ordinary commercial competition, if [Destiny] is involved, the nature of the situation changes.

Zhou Jian’s face was uncertain, his combat boots grinding against the ground where pieces of corpse lay, speech squeezing through his teeth:

"Last time we helped a special agent eradicate a [Destiny] squad, and soon faced [Destiny]’s retaliation, with severe casualties at the camp, even blowing up the Hidden Sect."

Zhou Jian spoke with lingering fear:

"We’d heard of them before, but last time we truly witnessed it—[Destiny] is indeed a bunch of death-defying lunatics. Our Investigation Corps is best off doing business securely with the Hidden Sect; there’s no need to seek trouble with a bunch of maniacs."

The vice-captain nodded repeatedly, wholeheartedly agreeing:

"The captain is thinking thoroughly."

He had been promoted to the vice-captain position only because the previous vice-captain died during that [Destiny] retaliation. He wasn’t eager to vacate it prematurely for someone else.

Wielding the [Destiny] banner is merit; really battling [Destiny] means a fatal deed.

Before, [Destiny]’s activities were mainly in Upper City, leaving the Investigation Corps lacking proper recognition of [Destiny], thus falling for the special agent’s ruse.

Now, they had learnt a hard lesson, deeply understanding two principles.

First, the [Destiny] banner is highly effective;

Second, [Destiny] should never be provoked lightly.

It’s not fear of [Destiny], but it’s more trouble than it’s worth, just like the Investigation Corps wouldn’t be afraid of a mere Night Watcher, but wouldn’t invite massive trouble without reason.

Individual terror or intimidation is limited, but a terror arising from a group of fearsome individuals is unimaginably immense.

"Retreat!"

Zhou Jian got back in the command vehicle.

In a flash, the armored convoy changed direction, leaving behind shattered remnants and streets scorched by artillery fire.

On the town’s outskirts, those lucky "lice" survivors peered out from behind cover.

They blankly watched the retreating armored convoy, then pounced on the ruins like hyenas, fingers rifling through flesh and debris, eyes lighting up with greed at every find.

The old cripple gleefully hunted with his iron hook, producing a delighted laugh when he found a fairly intact liver, quickly wrapping it in an ice pack.

Behind him, three youths fought to the bloody end over a piece of an iron shovel.

Living companions were companions, but deceased ones were invaluable "food," a scavenger’s rule—a survival law outside the Steel Forest.

Yet, in seeking "food," all the lice were careful to avoid the wellhole, circumspectly steering clear...