Chapter 585: Servant?

A massive gunshot exploded across the night sky!

The specially made bullet, blazing with a dazzling light, cut a straight line through the air and precisely struck Jiantong Shen'er's head!

In that instant, time seemed to freeze.

Jiantong Shen'er's smile still hung on his face, his eyes were wide open, and drool still dripped from his mouth.

But the next second, his head burst open, blood and brain matter splattered everywhere; the headless body swayed twice in place, then crashed down with a thud.

At the same time, the people in the church who were under Insect Technique control all froze, collapsing to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.

The surging Insect Tide instantly lost its vigor, turning into pools of black liquid that spread across the floor.

Yuanban Shichen stood where he was, watching the suddenly quiet scene around him, and let out a long breath.

He pressed his earpiece and whispered:

"Nice job, banana."

Yuanban Shichen hurried out of the church and headed toward the graveyard.

Sakura had already run down from the building, her complexion a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Father!"

She saw Yuanban Shichen, hurried forward, and said, "I hit him!"

Yuanban Shichen nodded, walked to the graveyard, and looked down—

Then he was stunned.

There was indeed a pool of blood on the ground, along with some charred clothing fragments.

The bullet's impact crater remained, and the surrounding tombstones were shattered by the blast wave.

But the corpse was gone.

Sakura also saw this, and her complexion instantly turned deathly pale.

"How—how could this be... I clearly hit him!"

Yuanban Shichen crouched down and carefully examined the pool of blood.

The blood was still there, indicating that someone had indeed been wounded and fallen here.

But the clothing fragments were far too few to cover an entire body.

Sakura looked around nervously.

"Could it be that he's still alive?"

Yuanban Shichen rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping the surrounding darkness.

"No, he really is dead. At least that shot just now definitely took his life, banana."

"Then why..."

Yuanban Shichen said nothing.

He only stared at the darkness, his brows tightly knit.

"Someone—or rather something—took his corpse away."

Sakura's pupils narrowed slightly.

Perspective shift.

Night cloaked the abandoned factory, the dilapidated buildings casting huge shadows in the moonlight, the rusted steel frames like a giant's skeleton, creaking softly in the wind.

Broken glass windows reflected the faint moonlight, scattering mottled specks across the floor.

In the open space at the factory's center, two silhouettes.

Yan Feng Qili lowered his head, looking at the person lying on the ground.

Moonlight poured through the broken roof, illuminating the pale face.

Jiantong Shen'er lay there, eyes tightly shut, brows relaxed, breathing steady, as if merely asleep.

There were no scars on his face, and the wounds that Bai Hang had previously pierced with an arrow, as well as Sakura's headshot, had completely vanished; his skin was unbelievably smooth.

Yan Feng withdrew his gaze, lowering his head to look at his own shadow.

Under the moonlight, that shadow was undergoing a bizarre transformation—its humanoid outline's edges began to warp, countless tiny tendrils sprouted from the shadow, swaying like aquatic plants in the moonlight.

The tendrils grew longer and thicker, wildly dancing within the shadow, emitting a faint "zzzz" sound.

But when Yan Feng lifted his hand, the tendrils instantly retracted, and the shadow returned to normal.

He crouched and extended his hand toward Jiantong Shen'er's crown.

His palm hovered three inches above the forehead; Yan Feng closed his eyes, his lips parting slightly to utter a string of low, garbled syllables.

It was not any language, but resembled an ancient incantation, each syllable bearing a peculiar rhythm that echoed through the empty factory.

A few seconds later, Jiantong Shen'er's eyes opened.

The moment those eyes opened, they had no focus; the pupils were dilated like two pools of dead water.

He stared straight upward, fixed on the ruined roof and the moonlight filtering through its cracks, unmoving.

Yan Feng looked at him and asked:

"Your Servant?"

Jiantong Shen'er's lips moved, his voice drifting as if from far away, hollow and mechanical:

"I don't know."

Yan Feng fell silent.

He rose, looking at Jiantong Shen'er's hollow eyes.

Just a pair of eyes, hollow, as if everything had been sucked out of them.

Yan Feng sighed, lifted his head, and watched the moonlight spill through the roof's hole.

"Where did they all go?"

His muttering echoed in the empty factory, and no one answered.

Perspective shift.

The pink giant horse trotted slowly along the street, its hooves thudding dully on the ground.

A Xing sat on the horse's back, one hand gripping the Rein, the other hand pressing the dark Top Hat, its brim pulled low to hide the golden eyes.

Gray hair fluttered gently in the night wind, a few strands clinging to her sharply defined profile.

Ilya ran alongside her, having to jog to keep up with the horse's pace.

Her silvery‑white long hair was somewhat disheveled, a few strands stuck to her forehead, and the red eyes were filled with anxiety, plus an indescribable daze.

She had been walking like this for a long time.

In the distance, the battlefield's glow still flickered, intermittently erupting in deafening booms.

A Xing didn't head that way, but took a longer route, keeping as far away from the chaos as possible.

She could feel how fierce the fight over there was, and knew that joining a battle of that level now might not be a good idea.

Ilya lowered her head, marching mechanically, her mind a tangled mess.

She recalled Zhigengniao Jiejie sitting there, remembered the purple‑haired woman cradling her, and thought of the green glow that emanated from the hand that had been grasped.

The glow was still there, growing brighter and more blinding, yet she seemed unable to feel it—not that it didn't hurt, but her senses had dulled, as if separated by a thick layer of something.

A Xing suddenly tightened the Rein and stopped.

Ilya nearly collided with the horse's leg; she lifted her head and followed A Xing's gaze—

Ahead, a massive silhouette blocked the path.

The dark‑purple Mechanical Armor covered its entire body, the snarling outline starkly clear in the moonlight, and the Thrusters at its joints spewed ghostly blue Flame.

A V‑shaped crimson light shone from beneath the helmet, staring straight at them.

Berserker.

Ilya's pupils dilated instantly!

How could that monster that had been fighting at the Yuanban Family for so long be here?!

She instinctively stepped back, her hand already gripping the ruby.

But the Berserker didn't move.

It simply stood there, the crimson light locked onto A Xing, unmoving.

A Xing also didn't move.