My Strange Tale Love Strategy Simulator

Just like the previous method of transmitting Yin energy underground, they first used a frontal attack to attract attention, and then launched the real killing move from an unexpected direction.

Last time it was underground, this time it's behind me.

This time, however, Zhang Ying was already on guard!

He learned his lesson the hard way and won't make the same mistake twice.

He did not turn around.

Zhang Ying raised his left hand, his index and middle fingers held together and upright, while the other three fingers curled towards his palm. His lips moved rapidly as he chanted the incantation at an extremely fast pace.

"Wind Surge Spell!"

The moment the spell was completed, a gust of wind arose out of thin air around him.

A fierce wind suddenly blew outwards from him, spreading in all directions.

The wind was incredibly strong, scattering sand and gravel across the ground and rattling the doors and windows of the wooden houses on both sides.

Before the gathered yin energy could even get close to Zhang Ying, it was struck head-on by the raging wind. The wind, like a pair of invisible giant hands, violently dispersed the yin energy.

The thick black fog shattered, diluted, and dissipated in the gale, like ink drops falling into a rushing river, instantly washed away.

The sneak attack prepared by the sick and dead ghost missed its mark.

The scattered yin energy struggled in the wind for a few moments before finally turning into nothingness.

Zhang Ying suddenly turned his head, his gaze refocusing on the sick and dead ghost.

His right hand was raised high with the blood-red longsword.

The two were less than a meter apart. The Spectral Dead had just released its Yin energy and hadn't yet retracted its arm. Its body leaned slightly forward, and a fleeting, unresponsive emptiness flashed in its dark yellow eyes beneath the bird-beak mask.

The opportunity is in this very moment.

Zhang Ying's arm suddenly swung down!

The blood-red blade drew a vivid arc in mid-air, carrying all the power compressed to the extreme, all the remaining strength in his body, and all his desire to live!

wow——

The blade cleaved through the body of the sick and dead ghost!

There was no crisp clang of metal clashing, no muffled thud of flesh being torn apart. The moment the blade sliced ​​through the body of the mortal corpse, it produced a sound similar to a sharp blade cutting through thick cloth—crisp and clean!

A thick, black line of blood appeared on the body of the morbidly deceased.

The line of blood started from its left shoulder, diagonally across its chest, and extended to below its right rib. The moment the blood appeared, the body of the morbidly dead creature seemed to be sliced ​​open by an invisible pair of scissors, splitting it in two from its chest along with its two arms!

The upper body fell off the body of the sick and dead monster.

Its head, adorned with a bird-beak mask, its shoulders wrapped in a black coat, its arms hanging limply at its sides, and its entire upper body slid off its torso and crashed heavily to the ground.

With a muffled "bang," dust flew everywhere!

The lower half of the mortal body remained standing, its two legs upright, with a large amount of thick, black blood gushing from the severed section at the waist.

The blood wasn't flowing out; it was gushing out as if it were being squeezed.

But being a monster, it will not die even if it suffers great harm.

Zhang Ying certainly knew this.

Even after falling to the ground, the upper half of the morbidly dead body continued to writhe. The severed tissues were trying to reconnect, and black blood vessels extended from the cuts like countless tiny tentacles, waving in the air, searching for the other half of the lower body.

It won't be long before it's reconnected.

Zhang Ying only had a few seconds.

After slicing open the body of the sick and dead monster, he immediately turned the blood-red blade in his hand into flowing liquid.

The blood-stained blade, over a meter long, softened and melted in his hand, turning into a clump of flowing blood.

He manipulated the blood, directing it towards the dismembered body of the morbidly dead monster.

Liquid blood seeped into the severed wound of the diseased and dead monster, weaving between the black tissue and the black blood.

He manipulated his own blood, enveloping a portion of the diseased and dead monster's black blood, and then pulled the red blood sphere containing the black blood out of the diseased and dead monster's body.

Success!

Zhang Ying did not hesitate at all.

He pushed the compressed blood beneath his feet with all his might, propelling himself backward. The thrust released by the compressed blood was astonishing; his body flew backward like a stone launched by a slingshot.

At the same time, he activated the Gale Spell again.

A gust of wind surged from around his body, dispersing the yin energy scattered in the air and clearing a clean path for him to retreat.

He left the battlefield without looking back.

Behind him, the upper and lower halves of the morbidly dead ghost were reconnecting. The black blood vessels had already joined together, slowly pulling the two halves of the body closer.

But Zhang Ying can no longer see these things.

The violent compression of his blood propelled him at incredible speed across the street. The wooden houses on either side rushed past, the wind whistling in his ears.

In less than two minutes, he arrived at Shen Yugang's location.

Shen Yugang leaned against the wall, curled up into a ball.

His condition was worse than before. Almost all the pustules on his face had ulcerated, and pale yellow liquid mixed with blood was dripping down his cheeks, onto his collar and chest.

His breathing was rapid and shallow, each inhale as if he were using all his strength.

Hearing the noise, Shen Yugang opened his eyes with difficulty. His eyes, which had been squeezed into slits by pustules, strained to look in Zhang Ying's direction.

"Brother Ying..." His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "How... are you?"

Zhang Ying nodded heavily.

He didn't speak, for he no longer had the strength. In his right hand, a black substance enveloped in his blood floated above his palm. The black substance slowly churned in the red blood, like a black heart beating.

Zhang Ying has reached his limit.

He slowly unfolded the compressed lake of blood.

The blood, compressed to its extreme and rendered vividly bright, gradually dispersed under his control. As the compression was released bit by bit, the blood slowly expanded, and its color changed from a bright, vivid red back to its original dark red.

Once the compression was released, the blood was no longer as uncontrollable as before. It became docile again, once more becoming an extension of his fingertips.

Zhang Ying was panting heavily.

His forehead, back, and palms were covered in cold sweat; he looked as if he had been pulled from the water. His brain was still throbbing, and the blood at the corner of his mouth had dried, leaving a dark red mark.

He frowned as he looked at the blood of the mortal, diseased creature, which was enveloped in his own blood.

We've now obtained the blood of the freak who died of the disease.

But how do you extract the antibodies?

The idea that the blood of the diseased and dead ghost contains antibodies is just a conjecture. Even if it did, those antibodies would be mixed in with the ghost's viscous, black blood, mingling with it.

He had no instruments, no tools, and nothing to use for separation and purification.

How can we extract the antibodies from this murky liquid?

Zhang Ying stared at the clump of blood floating above his palm and fell silent.