Chapter 92: Horror Film

“Boom!”

Accompanied by a deafening roar.

Under Fang Can’s powerful kick, the entire body of Dalai Wang had sunk deep into the earth, buried three meters below the surface.

“Hehehe!”

In the sky, Fang Can’s upper body laughed wildly.

His legs stood firm like pillars holding up the heavens, while his coiled intestines stretched completely straight, fused to his spine.

Supported by those intestines, his upper body remained perfectly upright, hovering five to six meters above the ground.

“How does it feel, my split-body attack?”

“If not for your combined assault, I never would’ve realized how much potential my own body holds.”

As he spoke, Fang Can’s upper body slowly descended, leaning close to stare at the terrified Dalai Wang.

Watching this scene like a decapitated head walking, though the sun blazed overhead, everyone felt a chill creep down their spines.

“Oh my god, this is insane!”

Every one of the Lunhuizhe ’s hearts pounded violently; in an instant, they all internally concluded: “This kid is beyond our power to fight.”

Even Dalai Wang himself was terrified, regretting having provoked this monster—no human could possibly do such a thing.

Who has ever seen a person survive a bullet through the brain, intestines spinning like a wheel, and holes punched through the heart?

“I have to run. I must run.”

Not just Dalai Wang—the Lunhuizhe had begun slipping backward, preparing to flee this slaughterground.

The situation was clearly overwhelming in Fang Can’s favor; they’d used every trick they had and still couldn’t defeat him.

If they delayed any longer, once Fang Can finished with Dalai Wang, it would be their turn to die.

Running might let them live—but staying meant certain death.

In an instant, the Lunhuizhe who had been watching the spectacle scattered like rats, sprinting with every ounce of strength, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and this devil.

Fang Can turned his head, smirking coldly at the fleeing Lunhuizhe : “Want to run? Think you can escape?”

As he spoke, he looked down at his lower body: “Go kill them all. Leave not one alive. I’ll handle Dalai Wang.”

But as he spoke, his legs remained utterly still.

“Almost forgot—my lower body has no eyes, can’t see.” Fang Can suddenly realized—neither his ass nor his anus can see.

His earlier coordination with his upper body relied purely on muscle instinct, fine in direct combat—but chasing targets? Impossible.

But solving this problem was simple: if his lower body had no eyes, he’d just give it one.

Even Uchiha eyes can be plugged in and used—why shouldn’t Fang Can’s own eyes work the same?

He plucked out his left eye, then watched as a segment of his lower body’s intestine stretched forward eagerly; he implanted the eye into it.

The moment the eye was attached, his lower body—now able to see—immediately surged forward, racing in the direction one Lunhuizhe had fled.

Watching his lower body sprint away, Fang Can twisted his upper body around, face twisted into a monstrous grin: “Now it’s just you and me—1.5 people left. Remember what I said about fighting? I’m going to beat you to death—alive.”

With those words, Fang Can used his hands as feet, charging at Dalai Wang like a tiny boulder.

What followed was the brutal, torturous murder of Dalai Wang!

…

Meanwhile, across the entire city of Z, chaos had erupted.

Without Fang Can’s protection, the rioters began rampaging through the city.

Countless skyscrapers blazed fiercely; gas stations exploded from tank shells fired hundreds of meters away; corporate towers crumbled into rubble.

Ordinary people hiding in the shadows were dragged out one by one, tortured to death amid screams and agony.

On the highway, a scene unfolded like this:

A group of rioters surrounded a woman with a curvaceous figure, leering with vile laughter.

After being locked up so long, they could finally have some fun.

Seeing this woman—her face and body both exquisite—they planned to rape her at least a hundred times!

“Please, let me go!” the girl cried, collapsing to her knees—but only drew louder, more cruel laughter from them.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Just as they moved to attack, a thunderous roar came from afar—the sound of a high-powered sports car accelerating at full speed.

But mixed with the car’s roar were other strange, heavy thuds.

In a moment of distraction, a red sports car shot past the rioters, then vanished from sight.

The Lunhuizhe inside drove the vehicle at maximum speed, eyes wide with terror: “Faster! Go even faster!”

“Damn it, drive faster—but don’t crash!”

Watching the car disappear, the lead rioter growled—then heard more thunderous thuds behind him.

Heavy impacts, like massive objects striking the ground.

Instinctively, they turned around—and saw a horrifying sight.

In the distance, a pair of pale, bare thighs, clad in loose, tattered pants, were sprinting wildly across the ground.

Above the waist, nothing existed—no head, no torso, no arms—only a two-meter-long, pink intestine, coiled upright like a king cobra.

At the top of the intestine, embedded like a jewel, was a single glistening eyeball, scanning the surroundings.

With every step, the thighs slammed the earth with a thunderous thud, crushing asphalt into powder, leaving deep, unmistakable footprints.

“Where the hell am I?” one rioter muttered, rubbing his eyes: “Am I dreaming?”

“Yeah, this has to be a dream—a nightmare. No way something like this could be real.”

One rioter tried convincing himself—but others were already running. In the face of unknown terror, who cared about the woman anymore?

But no matter how fast they ran, they couldn’t escape Fang Can’s attack—his lower body moved with terrifying speed.

In just seven or eight seconds, it covered hundreds of meters, then surged after the fleeing car without pause.

But though his legs kept moving, the intestine serving as his visual conduit did not stay still.

In an instant, the intestine lashed out like a flexible tentacle, piercing the hearts of four or five rioters.

One tried to fight back—but the next moment, his neck was wrapped in intestine, dragged screaming across the ground.

The woman froze, stunned—just moments ago, the rioters had been roaring with arrogance; now they lay lifeless in pools of blood, while distant screams echoed.

A rioter with dyed blonde hair was dragged by the intestine, leaving a long, crimson trail across the pavement—his cries faded, then vanished into silence.

(End of Chapter)