Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Upon hearing this, Bobby immediately pulled up the last tracking signal: "Seventeen kilometers northeast, old mining site. He was just there, but now..."

The red dot on the screen flashed violently, then began to move—not horizontally, but deep underground at an extremely fast speed.

"He's running away."

Wu Heng turned around and took a step. The first step was still in the camp, the second step was already on the hillside a hundred meters away, and the third step disappeared behind the ridgeline.

Old mining site.

Crowley stood at the bottom of the mine, surrounded by dozens of bound hybrids, all of whom he had carefully selected, high-level individuals that had fused the bloodlines of demons and ghouls.

He was setting up a temporary teleportation array to send these 'last materials' back to Hell.

Just then, a grayish-white light wave swept across.

All the hybrids froze simultaneously, the red light in their eyes went out, and their bodies went limp like skin sacks with bones removed.

They were all dead, completely and utterly dead, without even a trace of energy remaining.

Crowley looked up abruptly, his face turning deathly pale.

He felt it.

That power—that domineering, sinister power capable of erasing everything, yet belonging neither to angels nor demons—is possessed by only one person in the entire world.

“Lor Morric,” he murmured, then almost instinctively began tearing at his suit jacket, revealing demonic runes etched all over his body.

Crowley bit his tongue, spitting out a mouthful of black blood. The blood mist condensed in the air into twisted symbols.

He was preparing some kind of forbidden escape technique.

But it's too late.

A figure appeared at the edge of the mine pit.

Wu Heng stood there, looking down at him, his gaze as calm as if he were looking at an insect.

"Crowley." Wu Heng's voice echoed in the mine. The voice wasn't loud, but every word struck Crowley's soul like a hammer blow.

Crowley forced himself to stand up straight, forced a smile, and said with a dry laugh, "President Morrick, long time no see. Hell's Frontline isn't busy anymore, you actually have time to come to a small place like this."

"I heard you found some information about the coordinates of Purgatory?" Wu Heng interrupted him.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Wu Heng raised his hand.

There was no energy or light waves; he simply made a grasping motion towards Crowley.

The air around Crowley suddenly froze.

It materialized into a transparent gel, trapping him inside. He tried to struggle, but every movement required tremendous effort, like swimming in cement.

“Tell me what you know,” Wu Heng repeated.

Crowley gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. He knew he couldn't escape, but he also knew that if he revealed what the other party wanted to know, he would die an even more horrible death.

Even if he escapes, Lucifer will not let the traitor go.

Therefore, he chose the most extreme method.

"You want it?" Crowley grinned, his mouth full of blood. "Come and get it yourself."

He slammed his hands on his chest.

It wasn't suicide; it was a process of separation.

The demonic runes all over his body simultaneously lit up with a blinding red light, his skin began to crack, and black blood gushed out from the cracks.

The blood did not fall to the ground, but gathered in the air, condensing into a small, constantly rotating blood-red vortex, with a blurry coordinate map faintly visible at the center of the vortex.

It was some information that Crowley had found, but he was stripping it away and destroying it. At the same time, Crowley's body began to collapse, his flesh peeling away and his bones exposed. He was forcibly extracting his soul and most of his power and injecting it into that blood vortex.

This is a demonic version of 'a gecko losing its tail,' at the cost of losing more than half of its original power, and possibly never being able to recover it.

"See you in hell, Lor." Crowley roared one last time before exploding into a cloud of blood mist.

The blood mist was sucked into the vortex, which contracted violently and then disappeared with a 'poof'.

At the bottom of the mine, there was only a pool of black blood, a few pieces of cloth, and the corpses of more than a dozen hybrids.

Wu Heng stared at the spot where the vortex had disappeared, remained silent for a few seconds, and then turned around.

He knew Crowley wasn't dead; that old fox had escaped back to the depths of hell at such a cost, and wouldn't dare show his face again for at least a short time.

But Crowley deliberately showed a fleeting glimpse of the Infernal Coordinates at the last moment. Was it real or fake? Was it a trap or a mistake made in despair?

This needs to be verified.

Wu Heng took a step and returned to the camp.

Three kilometers away, in a half-collapsed shelter.

A dozen or so ordinary survivors huddled in the darkness, peering out through the cracks.

They've been hiding here for a week, surviving on canned food and rainwater. Just now, they saw a grayish-white light wave sweep across the sky, and then the howling of the monsters outside suddenly stopped.

Now they saw one man standing at the edge of the mine, and another man who looked like a monster exploding into a bloody mist and fleeing.

"Who is that?" a middle-aged woman asked in a trembling voice.

The old man next to her squinted his dim eyes, watching Wu Heng's departing figure, and suddenly knelt down, clasping his hands together.

The old man murmured, "That's the god who came to save us."

The others looked at each other, and then one by one knelt down.

They don't understand the supernatural, the power of balance, or the war between heaven and hell.

All they knew was that the person appeared, then the monster died, and then the demon-like guy ran away.

But that's enough.

In times of despair, people always need to grasp onto something and place their yearning for 'hope' on it, hoping to be saved.

Today, they seized that black figure, and that figure became their anchor.

Inside the shelter, soft prayers could be heard.

Back at the camp, Wu Heng walked back to the command center and said to Bobby, "Prepare for the next step. Crowley has escaped, but the threat from Hell and Heaven remains. We need to."

He paused, then looked into the distance.

"End this before they do anything even more stupid in Heaven and Hell."

Outside the window, night was gradually falling, but this time there were no monster eyes flashing in the darkness.

Only silence, a sliver of rekindled hope, and the faint puffs of cigarettes from the witchers kept many from falling asleep.

The following day, on the fourth basement level of the Witcher Guild, in the restricted area.

The walls here are not concrete, but a special alloy made of a mixture of exorcism water, silver powder and cold iron fragments. The ground is engraved with three layers of superimposed balancing runes.

A faint ozone smell permeated the air; this is the odor produced by the prolonged retention of high concentrations of energy.

In the center of the room, Wu Heng sat on a plain metal chair, with a glove floating in front of him.

The four rings shimmered with light: the emerald green of plague, the dark iron red of war, the withered yellow of famine, and the bleak gray of death.

They floated silently ten centimeters above the table, each emitting a faint but distinct light, like four stars of different colors. (End of Chapter)