Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

The three remained locked in a stalemate, neither saying a word.

"Get started. Don't make me ask you a third time."

Kong Jiu scratched the back of his head impatiently; clearly, he was the one who truly wished for the two of them to die.

Wintert's massive power claws hovered in front of Fara, hesitating whether to bring them down.

The veteran was weighing how much truth and how much bluff was in Kong Jiu's words.

He had to admit that he knew almost nothing about this messenger of the gods.

A month ago, the Great Vortex War Gang held an emergency meeting, where all the junior leaders convened.

There was no meeting topic, and no prior notice, but every gang member knew Wendat's unpredictable nature, so even if they had urgent work to do, they rushed to the meeting.

At the meeting, Zhan Bang's deputy, Che Gulu, rambled on with a lot of nonsense, from the cooperation policy of the Purple Light Sect to how to guard against the Purple Light Sect, all of which was meaningless.

Two hours into the long meeting, Wintert, who had been silent all along, finally spoke.

"What do you think of that mortician named Kong Jiu?"

The leaders, who had been drowsy, perked up as soon as they heard Wendat speak.

Wintert always did this, letting his deputy ramble on for ages before finally posing the real, crucial question.

It's unclear whether he thought this was a test of his subordinates' patience or their loyalty.

However, almost everyone describes Kong Jiu in a similar way.

"He's alright, but he's a bit clueless about the rules and keeps saving people he shouldn't be saving."

"Don't you know the rules? I think that for an Easterner, only saving people and not harming them makes one seem too well-versed in the rules."

"What's wrong, boss? You don't like that yellow-skinned monkey? How about we..."

A leader with a scarred face and a ferocious expression reached for his neck and made a "snap" sound.

Wintert didn't reply, but with a glance, everyone immediately understood what he meant.

"Don't mess with him."

The leaders could tell from Wendat's eyes that he was a mysterious and unfathomable corpse collector.

But Wendart sensed from the conversation that the medical examiner was too soft-hearted.

Which one is the real Kong Jiu?

Wendart's thoughts returned to the present moment, looking at the son of the red dragon holding a book in front of him.

What are the odds of winning?

Despite his seemingly ordinary physique, Kong Jiu was surprisingly skilled, even rivaling himself in speed and strength as an enhanced warrior.

However, his combat experience was almost zero. Whether it was fists and feet or knives and guns, he was like an ordinary person who had never been exposed to fighting.

Considering that he is now wearing armor, which greatly increases his overall capabilities, he would almost certainly crush Kong Jiu, who is unarmed.

Therefore, the only variable, Kong Jiu's source of arrogance, must lie in that bizarre resurrection ability.

Farah may not have seen it, but Wintert has certainly experienced Conjugna's ability to resurrect people firsthand.

After suffering a fatal wound, he would always scream and get up again and again until his opponent was exhausted.

Wintert could only pin his hopes on the anti-psychic drone above him, hoping it could at least slightly suppress his resurrection.

Just as Windat was pondering this, a hearty laugh reached his ears.

Farah, bruised and battered and on the verge of death, burst into unrestrained laughter.

The laughter was so open and carefree, mingling with the sound of the wind, as if it had seen through Wendart.

This once powerful leader of the Purple Light Cult was now lying disheveled on the dirty dock after the rain, but his tone carried a sense of exhilaration, an exhilaration that even a cult leader couldn't fake.

"What are you laughing at?" Winter asked, frowning.

"To die at Kong Jiu's hands was one of the endings I had planned for myself."

Farah's eyes held a detached calm. "But dragging you, this devil, down with me is a huge win."

Am I a demon?

Then what are you?

"Damn it. You're a fearless lunatic too!"

Wendart cursed angrily and kicked Farah away again.

He really wanted to kill Farah first, but once he made a move, he would be giving Kong Jiu the opportunity to strike first.

"Doctor Kong, I may not have informed the Rat God of my actions beforehand, but it was by no means a betrayal..."

Wendart pretended to want to argue and slowly approached Kongjiu.

Just as the two were about to meet, his power claws were stretched to their maximum load, each of the sharp, razor-like claws crackling with electricity, as if tearing through space.

The speed at which they've transformed the soldiers is incredible!

clang!

Five iron claws slammed down on the bronze shield bearing the Kui dragon pattern.

Not even a spark was generated.

Wendart could hardly believe his eyes.

When did that shield appear?

A streak of dark light flashed, and Kong Jiu found himself holding a thick shield that resembled a fortress.

Before Wendart could think further, the moment the immense force of the claw strike dissipated, the bronze shield suddenly transformed into a streak of black light, darting towards Kong Jiu's other hand, which was already raised.

A massive, powerful-looking hammer materialized in the dim light, gleaming with a dark metallic sheen, and slammed down towards Wendat's head.

What kind of weapon is that?

The shimmering black light made Wendart feel uneasy.

The leader of the Great Vortex Battle Clan, a veteran of ten years of battles, was momentarily flustered by the bizarre change in moves and hurriedly turned his head to dodge.

Using his superhuman organs to activate his nerves, Windat achieved an incredible evasive speed.

He tilted his head, and the hammer grazed his ear as it slammed into his power armor, creating a dent.

The ear was only grazed, but a large part of it was cut off, and blood gushed out.

Clearly, if that blow had hit him squarely in the head, Wintert would be dead.

Winter broke out in a cold sweat, no longer daring to underestimate his opponent.

He quickly issued commands to the drone swarm via the brain-computer interface on his power armor.

Sacrifice a wingman to stop Kong Jiu's offensive!

Call ~

The silver cross-shaped fuselage streaked with light, and immediately a drone crashed straight into Kong Jiu.

The miniature turret fired non-lethal anti-psychic projectiles, and the self-destruct glory rounds were activated. With a muffled explosion, a cloud of white smoke enveloped Kong Jiu.

Wendart's heart was in his throat.

A few seconds later, Kong Jiu, who was now completely covered in lamellar armor, brushed off the drone fragments from his body and slowly walked out.

The next moment, the armor spun around and transformed back into the book in his palm.

Now, Wendat's heart sank completely.

"Are you really Doctor Kong?"

Having created distance by taking advantage of his wingman's sacrifice, Wintert, ignoring his bleeding ear, looked extremely pale.

When was the last time I was so badly overwhelmed in a duel?

Oh, it was this same person just last month.

No, there is a difference. At least last month I had the upper hand.

This young man was completely inept at fists, kicks, knives, and guns; his clumsiness was like that of a novice who had just picked up a weapon.

If it weren't for that bizarre resurrection ability that allowed him to get up again and again and keep fighting, Wendart believed he wouldn't have lost to Kongjiu.

But now?

Kong Jiu was never resurrected.

Wendart was certain that even without that versatile weapon, Kong Jiu's close combat skills had improved significantly!

Facing him, Wendart even felt as if he had returned to his recruit days, experiencing the same sense of pressure he felt when facing his combat instructor.

The only difference is that back then, the instructors only used cold weapons like daggers, unlike now, where it's as if the other side has hundreds of arms, wielding dozens of weapons, making it hard for you to breathe.

"What, haven't I dealt with you in a month? Have you forgotten my methods?"

With a flash of light, the giant hammer transformed into an iron mace, which Kong Jiu held in his hand and gently tapped on the ground, producing a long, resonant sound.

Faced with the combat skills of generations of Keepers of the Secrets, which embody the concept of "loyalty," Windat is like a greenhorn.

"Technique?"

Wintert's eye twitched: "You psionicists never break a sweat, yet your physical abilities are equivalent to an ordinary person's decades of hard training. You dare call that a technique?"