Chapter 558: Bang!

+「Damn, are these ascetic practitioners? 」

Staring.

Zhang Tie stared silently at the man at the front.

He had no doubt that if he didn't make way, these people could crawl over him on their knees.

The man before him had already come considerably closer; in a new round of three kowtows and nine head knocks, the man's forehead had already bumped against Zhang Tie's foot.

He truly acted as if he couldn't see him, not even willing to go around.

Lin An faintly released his mental power, quickly scanning the troop at close range.

If it weren't for the fact that these people truly had a special fluctuation, albeit extremely weak.

Otherwise, Lin An almost thought he had returned to the real world and encountered pilgrims.

No, they are far stranger than those pilgrims.

Is this the cultivation method spoken of by the soldiers?

In the information the soldiers gave, he had once considered doing it this way.

Only the method is slightly different.

The way Ascetic Practitioners hone themselves is almost always a rigid, mechanical repetition of the same action.

From what the soldiers said, and from seeing it with his own eyes.

The impact feeling is really too different.

"Not considered Ascetic Practitioners, or rather, not yet become."

Sensing the mental fluctuations of these people, Lin An quickly gave his judgment.

Unfathomable.

He really couldn't figure out how this method gains power.

Is it useful?

What is the principle? Or... is it the rule of this Secret Realm?

It doesn't make sense logically.

But that weak mental fluctuation does indeed exist.

Under mental power perception, Lin An actually sensed the aura of the Causal Sequence within it.

Cause and effect... or the power of time?

How is it done?

Doubts piled up.

Zhang Tie also couldn't understand what this was all about.

Upon first encountering this world's power system, he felt it simply refreshed his cognition.

Watching the man who had risen from kneeling get a bit closer, the man almost had his forehead about to stick to his own body.

Xiong Hanzi finally couldn't take it anymore, and grabbed his neck in one motion.

"Hey!"

"Speak!"

"Can't you see Laozi standing here?!"

"Your bones are about to wear away!"

"Wake up! I have questions for you!"

His face looked grim.

Zhang Tie stared fixedly at the expressionless man and shouted his question.

He simply didn't believe these people couldn't see him!

No response.

The man whose neck was grabbed suddenly struggled violently, frantically trying to kneel back to the ground.

Violent twisting, yet not a sound was made.

That frenzied motion, coupled with a lifeless expression, was full of eerie dissonance.

Seeing this, Zhang Tie felt a jolt of alarm.

This person!

Damn, how is he so like a robot?!

In astonishment, he was stunned.

Before Lin An could speak to signal Xiong Hanzi to release the man.

A crisp cracking sound suddenly rang out.

"Damn me..."

His pupils constricted slightly, Xiong Hanzi stared in shock at the man in his hand.

The neck stretched, the head drooped.

His limbs swayed like noodles.

Only saw that the man he held in his hand, amidst violent struggle, actually twisted his own neck off.

Before death.

His hand still reached toward the ground, his expression calm.

That twisted break seemed not his neck, nor his life.

The next second.

In the line-formed queue, the second Ascetic Practitioner mechanically kowtowed toward Zhang Tie's feet.

Bang-

The sound was dull and heavy.

It was like the wooden fish struck in a temple, hitting the heart.

At this moment, life seemed to not exist.

Lin An actually discovered that, from these people, he could not see humanity's deepest survival instinct at all.

Even ants cling to life.

But these people completely disregarded life and death.

These people seemed to move merely for the sake of moving.

They seemed to have no reason, no emotion.

Everything was only to complete that clumsy, meaningless kowtow.

Without a doubt.

If these people faced a sea of molten lava, they would still crawl in without expression.

Let the flames scorch their flesh bit by bit.

Lin Dui!? This... this!?

Compared to the frightening ghosts Xiong Hanzi used to fear, these people before him were merely ordinary.

At most, the aura on their bodies was somewhat unusual.

But it was their actions that left him speechless for a long time.

Pat

The corpse in his hand slipped free and smashed down, landing on the head of the second man who was just about to rise.

The man's body tilted sideways, completely indifferent to the death of his leading companion.

He stood up stiffly.

His left hand, stiff and unintentional, passed through the corpse's armpit.

Perhaps because he was too weak, the corpse prevented him from standing up.

Again and again he struggled, again and again he tried to stand.

Clearly, pulling back his hand would let him stand; clearly, turning his body would let him avoid it.

But he simply refused to move even a bit, stiff as he was.

Movement was blocked.

In silence, the third ascetic practitioner had already finished a set of kowtows, and without hesitation moved forward a step.

Bang!

His head knocked against the back of his skull.

The third person's forehead smashed into the second person's occiput, instantly knocking the man to the ground unable to rise.

Just like ants following a leader ant, successive dull impact sounds rang out.

The fourth person knocked into the third, the fifth into the fourth...

It cycled repeatedly, falling into a dead loop.

Within just a few seconds.

Lin An's inner shock was no less than when he first saw the Red-Clothed Mutant.

What's the difference between this and zombies, and robots?

These people were simply like a rigid program that had been set, then carried out mechanically.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

One after another.

The following people literally 'smashed to death' the person in front, their heads striking like the small hammer that hits a wooden fish, over and over again.

Smashing caused the skull to burst, smashing caused the forehead to sink in.

Smashing into the companion in front, smashing into their occiput.

Blood trickled; from the smashed opening, a red‑white mixture flowed across the ground.

They felt no fatigue, showing no reaction.

Just like crushing beans.

At this time, aside from the wailing wind on the wilderness, there was no other sound.

In the silence, the lame boy at the rear of the group stumbled as he knelt before the last corpse.

On his dirty, tattered cloth clothes, fresh blood had soaked.

He raised both hands devoutly, lifting his head.

On his forehead.

Stained dark red.

Bang!