Chapter 67: Termination Countdown

The only thing that could still identify him was his signature big mustache—now it had turned into a few tufts of half-dead metal wires, reflecting an eerie sheen under the blue light.

"Lao Zhao..." Zhang Jun felt a lump of ice in his throat, his chest tight and panicky, hurting more than his shoulder wound.

That mechanical Zhao Wushuang seemed to sense something; his head twisted with a "click", his purple electronic eyes locking onto the door gap.

"Intruder detected."

The cold synthetic voice spewed from that half-human mouth, bearing no resemblance to the memory of his gruff tone.

"Primordial Bloodline bearer, Zhang Jun, confirmed."

Zhang Jun cursed under his breath, then kicked open the airtight door and swung his Heaven-Man Sword forward.

Since he'd been spotted, there was no point in hiding.

"Lao Zhao, it's me!" He took two steps forward, his injured leg dragging with a screech, "Do you still recognize me, you bastard?"

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang tilted his head, metal parts emitting a grating screech: "Searching memory… Zhang Jun, former colleague, threat level: high."

"Bullshit! What colleague? We're brothers!" Zhang Jun stepped closer again, his injured leg making him gasp, "Five years ago, the Kunlun Mountain avalanche! You carried me on your back for three days and nights! Have you forgotten?"

On the half-human face of mechanical Zhao Wushuang, the muscles twitched unnaturally, then stiffened again: "Irrelevant data, deleted. Executing purge protocol."

Before his voice faded, his mechanical right arm shot up, the cannon's purple light flashing!

Zhang Jun lurched sideways in a roll; the scorching energy bolt grazed his ear and slammed into the wall behind him, blasting a basin-sized charred hole.

Using the momentum from the roll, he ducked behind a thick pipe, his heart pounding like a drum.

"Lao Zhao! You're being controlled by that old bastard! Wake up!"

His answer was another energy blast, which blew the half-pipe into fragments.

Scorching metal shards sliced Zhang Jun's face, hot blood trickling down from his chin.

"Damn!" Zhang Jun spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, "Looks like you won't wake up unless I beat you flat!"

He lunged out of cover, his Heaven-Man Sword slicing forward with a purple afterimage.

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang reacted impossibly fast, raising his metal arm to block the blade—metal clashed on metal, sparks flying everywhere.

In an instant they exchanged over a dozen moves.

Zhang Jun aimed every strike at vital points, but this mechanically altered Zhao Wushuang, with absurd speed and strength, effortlessly neutralized all his attacks.

"Your combat pattern has been logged," the mechanical Zhao Wushuang's synthetic voice intoned flatly, "predicted hit rate: 87.3%."

Zhang Jun suddenly recalled something, curling the corner of his mouth into a bloody cold smile: "Is that so? Then can you predict this?"

He violently plunged his Heaven-Man Sword into the ground!

The purple patterns on the blade flared bright, and a strange energy surge traveled down the sword into the earth.

"Hum—"

The metal plates on the floor groaned under the strain, beginning to twist and deform.

The floor beneath mechanical Zhao Wushuang's feet suddenly dipped, making him stagger.

Now!

Zhang Jun sprang up, sword in hand, launching himself like a cannonball, the blade's tip aimed straight at Zhao Wushuang's glowing energy core on his chest!

But mechanical Zhao Wushuang reacted a step faster; his remaining left arm swung hard, a whooshing blow smashing into Zhang Jun's side.

"Pfft—"

Zhang Jun was hit like a torn sack, flying backward to slam his back hard against the cold metal wall, his vision blacking out as he nearly passed out.

The wound burst wide open, blood pouring out as if it were free.

"Prediction adjusted," mechanical Zhao Wushuang said, stepping forward with heavy "thud-thud" steps of his metal feet, "the Heaven-Man Sword's energy-absorption function has been activated. Threat level increased."

Zhang Jun struggled to his feet against the wall, gulping ragged breaths.

He noticed that mechanical Zhao Wushuang's movements seemed just a hair slower than before.

"Lao Zhao, do you remember your birthday last year?" Zhang Jun suddenly said, his voice hoarse from blood loss, "We stole Maotai from that old coot Lin Zhen, you got drunk and rolled all over the floor, insisting on going to confess to Lin Xue, and I held you back."

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang's advancing foot halted abruptly.

The muscles on his half-human face twitched worse, the metal parts' wiring flickering: "Data… interference… deleting…"

"Delete your grandma's leg!" Zhang Jun roared, "You still owe me five hundred bucks! Last month we bet who'd first get the data on that S01 iron lump—you lost! You trying to welch?"

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang's electronic eyes flashed red and blue alternately, his raised mechanical arm jerking irregularly: "System… error… rebooting…"

There's a chance!

Zhang Jun steeled himself, pressing on: "You promised to be my best man! Forgot? You said if Lin Xue dared to bully me, you'd be the first to chop her!"

"Zhang… Jun…"

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang's voice suddenly changed!

No longer that cold synthetic tone, but now carrying his original hoarse and rough timbre!

"Run… run fast…"

Zhang Jun's heart jolted: "Lao Zhao! You're still in there!"

But this flicker of clarity lasted less than a second.

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang's electronic eyes were again covered by cold purple light, his voice returning to an emotionless mechanical tone: "System reset complete. Executing termination protocol."

His mechanical left arm suddenly "clack-clack" transformed, splitting into three metal tentacles tipped with high-speed rotating sawteeth, lashing at Zhang Jun like venomous snakes!

Zhang Jun desperately tried to dodge, but his injured leg wouldn't obey, slowing him by a beat.

One tentacle scraped his back, tearing his combat suit open and leaving a deep gash down to the bone.

The pain blackened his vision, nearly dropping him to his knees, but he gritted his teeth and, using the roll's momentum, barely pulled back a little distance.

"System analysis: target injuries severe, mobility reduced 42%."

Mechanical Zhao Wushuang stepped closer, his metal feet thudding heavily on the floor.

"Termination countdown: 60 seconds."

Zhang Jun leaned against the icy pipe, gasping heavily.

What lay before his eyes started to sway; he had lost too much blood, his head spinning badly.

But he still noticed a detail—this iron lump's response was always half a beat slow whenever it brought up the 'system' or needed to do something complex.

"System load…" Zhang Jun gasped, a sudden flash in his mind, "Old Zhao's soul is still wrestling that broken system for the steering wheel!"

He gripped the Heavenly Man Sword tightly.

The purple patterns on the sword's blade and the ice‑crystal mark left by Lin Xue on his chest lit up, one after the other.

A reckless thought sprang up.

"Hey, tin can!" Zhang Jun yelled at the top of his voice, "You're not even as good as the dog Lin Zhen raised! He tells you who to bite, and you bite whoever he says!"