Chapter 46: Innate Nature

The mantis-arm bone-blade sliced through the air, decapitating the enemy before him.

Armed security guards, screaming in terror, pulled their pistol triggers—but Li Cheng had already seized the headless corpse, gushing blood, and held it before himself.

The banquet's organizers had never imagined a violent bloodshed would occur here; the armed personnel had been issued only low-power pistols.

Li Cheng first used the corpse to block the first volley of bullets, then released his grip, shoving the body forward to knock one man down, while lunging forward himself, swinging both arms in perfect semicircles.

Only after peeling away layer upon layer of false shells did the true Li Cheng emerge into the open air.

If the paragraph is incorrect, please visit later using a mainstream browser (Chrome, Safari, Edge...).

Li Cheng's right hand caught the pistol with precision; at this range, aiming was unnecessary—he fired directly at the remaining armed guards, suppressed their fire, closed the distance, and finished them with the mantis-arm bone-blade.

Someone had already called the police on their phone; sirens wailed in the distance, and patrol cars, even National Guard armored vehicles, were rushing toward this location.

Pachi.

He instinctively looked up and saw a figure falling from a high-rise, crashing heavily onto the roof of a luxury car.

Li Cheng slashed off the opponent's skullcap, then, on instinct, gripped the corpse by its collar and thrust its mouth open toward the exposed brain.

"Thank you for your blessings."

Papapapa—

A handsome young man broke free from his parents' grasp and stepped forward. He spread his arms, his expression resolute: "If you want to kill her, you'll have to walk over my corpse."

The model student demeanor was merely social camouflage; the gentle, kind behavior was merely a mask of self-protection. Even his casual, indifferent personality was not entirely his true nature.

Two corpses lay on the ground; the remaining survivors screamed and scrambled backward until the railing at the balcony's edge finally gave way and shattered.

The Indian-born doorman in a top hat, who had been yawning and chatting with a friend, suddenly heard a piercing scream from above.

Heaven, I cannot change

"won'tyouflyhigh，freeeeeebird，yeh"

The Swarovski crystal chandelier overhead was stained red with splattered blood; luxury wines in the bar cabinet lay shattered across the floor, their fragrant liquids spilling freely; the speakers in the corner still played the pre-programmed song, titled "freebird."

A beautiful blonde girl in a formal gown stood firm, shielding her younger siblings, and shouted at Li Cheng: "One hundred million! Five hundred million! One billion! Whatever you want!"

"Money means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. Without you, it matters."

Heaven help me, I cannot change

"lord，ican】tchange"

Li Cheng's gaze grew deep as he silently retracted his horns and scales into his body, then pulled alcohol wipes from his inventory and cleaned the blood from the mantis-arm bone-blade before tapping the teleport button in his vision and vanishing from the spot.

After the player restrictions were lifted, the Infection of the Lord of Insects clung like a stubborn bone-deep plague, wrapping itself around him once more.

Is this what killing feels like?

In many literary works, it is said that ordinary people, when killing another human for the first time, experience intense discomfort—some even vomit, scream, tremble, or cry.

"We can give you money,"

After fifteen seconds, a sharp "ding-dong" echoed as fully armed police burst from the elevator car—and they saw a scene they would never forget.

But Li Cheng did not. His eyes remained calm as a still well; his consciousness seemed detached from his body, observing his own actions with cold indifference.

The New York police who had just arrived stepped out of their vehicles, saw the scene before them, muttered "jesuschrist," gritted their teeth, drew their pistols, and charged into the building.

114.41.77.243

He stomped forward with his foot, crushing the skull of the screaming, fallen security guard, ending his suffering.

Due to his forward-leaning posture and shifted center of gravity, the mantis-arm bone-blade precisely sliced through the gaps along the waist and abdomen of the armed guards' bulletproof vests, cutting two men in half; a third had his abdomen slit open, intestines and organs spilling onto the floor as he collapsed, writhing in agony.

When a person is killed, they die.

Li Cheng slowly withdrew the bone-blade from the corpse's mouth, rose slowly, and stepped across the river of blood toward the open balcony.

His left arm slashed backward, driving the blade into a man's temple; his right hand formed a palm-strike, rising swiftly from below to strike the man's chin.

Fly far away, free bird

As the lyrics ended, the wild, unrestrained guitar solo surged through the blood-soaked slaughterhouse, its torrential melody crashing into the mind, touching the soul.

Li Cheng's consciousness hovered above, overlooking the chaotic banquet—he watched himself charge into the crowd, leaving behind flying limbs and severed limbs wherever he went.

"."

Only then did she realize: her title as a favored daughter of heaven, her noble status, could not distinguish her from the unlucky commoners dragged here to play the escape game.

The white-haired elder straightened his suit, clinging to his last shred of dignity: "I'll wait for you in hell."

On the high-rise rooftop, wind howled. Li Cheng looked at the last standing white-haired elder and asked calmly: "Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"Oh, as you wish."

Figures fell like dumplings dropped into boiling water, crashing onto car roofs or the ground.

The question is—will it be enough time?

The brute force of eight points of strength traveled through the bones, dislocating the man's jaw, snapping his neck, lifting his feet off the ground, and causing his Beretta M9 pistol to slip from his grasp.

Click.

The nine-minute song had now reached 4:36.

"lordhelpme，ican】tcha-ya-ya-ya-ange."

Li Cheng swung his blade forward, as effortlessly as eating or drinking.

Only when his teeth were about to bite into brain tissue did he suddenly realize what he was doing—and hurled the corpse away.

Blood, brain matter, moans, flight, screams.

The elevator to the lower floors was destroyed; the only remaining fire escape had been blocked by tables. The remaining twenty or thirty survivors had nowhere to run—they huddled like quails along the balcony's edge, crying and screaming, offering futile pleas to the ground below.

Warm liquid splashed onto his face; he wiped his cheek with his fingertip and found it was a mixture of blood and brain matter.

The once-golden hall had become a bloody slaughterhouse, littered with corpses, not a single intact human body to be found.

The marble walls were smeared with blood, faintly forming the shape of a mayfly, its head tilted upward toward the sky.

(End of Chapter)