But just at this moment, Fang Senyan, the prey that appeared to be on the verge of death, suddenly turned his head and stared directly at the gray-clad Veron.

Although Veron was entirely transparent at this moment, as if he were a piece of glass wiped so clean that the details of the tree bark behind him were perfectly visible, Fang Senyan still managed to lock onto him with a definite gaze!

Fang Senyan's eyes were steady, calm. That was not the look of prey; it was the look of a hunter!! Even though the Yautja's technology was flawless, precisely filtering out the rustle of the gray-clad Veron’s footsteps on the fallen leaves. Even though the cloaking device successfully refracted light, rendering him completely invisible to the eye, and even though the gray-clad Veron was a master of stealth, Fang Senyan's perception clearly registered the depression, crushing, and fracturing of the nearby leaves, even though no sound was emitted.

The attributes of the gray-clad Veron were, in almost every respect, equal to or higher than Fang Senyan’s, but his greatest weakness—or perhaps the entire Yautja race's greatest weakness—was an excessive reliance on high-tech means to detect enemies! This directly resulted in their actual sensory perception being generally lower. In other words, outside the range of their detectors, the Predator might be superior to Fang Senyan, but the most advanced detectors could, at best, only simulate human sight, hearing, and touch. Scent and taste were domains that technology struggled to touch, let alone intuition or mental field coverage, which were far inferior to Fang Senyan’s perception.

Fang Senyan stared at the gray-backed Veron, his palms pushing hard against the ground, his solid muscles tightening and storing energy, clearly ready to strike. Yet, even now, the gray-clad Veron maintained his composure, his shoulders shifting slightly, the plum-blossom-shaped infrared targeting dot from his shoulder cannon already imprinted on Fang Senyan’s brow!

Fang Senyan had only 0.5 seconds to evade the shoulder cannon’s lock. If he continued his charge, he would have to endure one, perhaps even two, high-energy laser blasts head-on.

The gray-clad Veron did not believe the seemingly weak prey before him possessed such audacity. In his view, if the man dodged, he would inevitably be injured by the aftershock at such close range, adding injury to his already grievous wounds. If he didn't dodge, the fight was essentially over.

So, when Fang Senyan ferociously charged forward, the pupils of the gray-backed Veron contracted sharply. Through the solid crystal glass of his mask, he saw the red image symbolizing the enemy’s body instantly merge with the crimson hue of the high-energy laser! Then, as expected, the red image symbolizing life should have shattered into pieces, explosively tearing apart and staining the surrounding trees with gruesome patches of red. However, that red image defied the gray-backed Veron’s experience, pouncing toward him with a fierce, agile ferocity!!

The gray-backed Veron had no time to react before feeling a searing heat close in, radiating intense thermal energy. After a violent impact, his body experienced a strange paralysis. His limbs felt as if they were trapped in a nightmare, unable to move or respond! Seizing this instant, the enemy, scorched black all over, suddenly drew a weapon of imposing authority, calmly aimed, and pulled the trigger. The weapon exuded an ancient, solitary aura; the gray-backed Veron even sensed a queen-like majesty emanating from it. As the weapon flashed with light, the gray-backed Veron felt his entire body scoured clean by impacts as dense and fine as raindrops. Every inch of him ached, and it seemed countless fissures had appeared on his protective armor, with each fissure pierced by a white-hot needle!!

Although the pain was overwhelming, his body remained paralyzed, showing no signs of recovery. Then, the prey strode closer, drawing a dull, dark longsword from behind him. The blade looked utterly unremarkable, save for the occasional flash of exposed keenness along the edge, sparkling like the coldest starlight from the depths of the universe, destined to sear itself deep into the hearts of all who witnessed it.

The emerald blood of the Yautja, while possessing a faint metallic tang, held an indescribable sweetness when tentatively touched to the tongue. West, at +13, also trembled with a bloodlust after tasting the enemy’s flesh! Watching the combat log register the damage from a single downward slash, Fang Senyan felt an indescribable surge of exhilaration in his own heart!! 186 (Critical Damage) + 98 + 131 (Holy Damage) + 32 (Muscle Burst Side Damage) + 800 (True Damage!) With one swift motion, the very first strike triggered the weapon’s special effect! Five terrifying numbers lined up side-by-side, mingling with the ghastly spray of blood, giving anyone who merely looked upon them a sense of hopeless despair. The gray-backed Veron’s emerald blood splashed across Fang Senyan’s face; his supposedly powerful armor proved almost negligible in its defense! Fang Senyan followed up with two more savage cuts. The mournful gleam of his blade swept through the air, splashing vast sheets of emerald blood onto the nearby trees, which seemed to rustle softly before sliding down like viscous quicksilver. After these two strikes felled him, the gray-backed Veron regained motor control, but by this point, recovery was far too late. Fang Senyan had completely seized the advantage—or more accurately, the definite victory! In mere seconds, the gray-backed Veron’s status had flipped from hunter to hunted. Such an extreme reversal was difficult for anyone to process. His crimson eyes were filled with rage and unwillingness, but Fang Senyan granted him no time to recover, bringing the longsword down in another powerful overhead slash. The gray-backed Veron hastily drew the Tiger-Tooth Dagger from his waist. Because Fang Senyan had already carved a grievous wound into his left shoulder, he gripped the dagger with both hands to block the incoming attack. Even though he managed to accurately intercept the edge of the unassuming longsword, a massive force surged through, staggering him backward, causing him to spit out a great gout of blood. The gray-backed Veron knew he was now completely overpowered and began contemplating retreat. But just then, as if sensing his thoughts, Fang Senyan hurled a Curse Potion onto the ground, momentarily freezing him in place. Fang Senyan instantly closed the distance, leaping like a shadow, raising his longsword high above his head, and bringing it down with crushing force...

This time, eight Yautja accompanied the gray-backed Veron. This constituted the most basic combat unit for the Yautja—a 'squad' consisted of eight individuals. This group included one member whose specialty was not combat; this individual carried a significant load, serving as a repairman for various weapons and equipment, a field medic, and also bearing the crucial responsibility of gathering intelligence. This meant that after Fang Senyan and his five companions found their respective one-on-one opponents, only three members remained to guard the ship, one of whom was non-combat personnel. In the duels that had already commenced, the other Contractors had tacitly chosen to fight strategically, drawing their opponents away from the sightline of the remaining Yautja guards. Although the stationary Yautja were intensely curious about the course of the fights, in order to uphold the great honor of the Yautja and avoid any accusation of interference, they chose to wait in place. Time ticked by, and the frequent explosions that had echoed in the distance gradually ceased. No more sounds had been heard for quite some time. The three remaining Yautja began to grow slightly restless. Suddenly, the auxiliary Yautja clutched his chest, frowning, his breathing becoming shallow, appearing to be in pain. However, he immediately straightened up. The other two Yautja naturally noticed the change and asked in confusion, "What is wrong with you?" This Yautja shook his head, "I don't know. It felt like my chest was suddenly blocked, but now it's fine." At this moment, one Yautja frowned and said, "I don't know why, but I feel like something is seriously wrong. Lord Gray-Coat should have been back with the prey’s head by now." "That prey was fast; if it were me, I might not have caught up," another Yautja remarked. "But the prey chosen by Lasnock is in a worse state, isn't it? I estimate it will take at least two days just to piece its skull back together. You’ll be busy, Zier." Zier was clearly the auxiliary Yautja. Just as he was about to reply, his brow furrowed again, and he clutched his chest. This time, a few drops of inky-green fluid dripped from the seams of his mask! Yautja blood was emerald green, but this liquid had turned to a sickly, decaying black-green!! This time, it took Zier a full five or six seconds to recover. He gasped, "I feel terrible, like there’s fire burning in my chest, as if something pierced me, but now it’s back to normal. You two need to scan me." The other two Yautja immediately activated their masks to examine Zier, then reported, "There are some abnormal shadows inside your chest, seemingly an area of repeated tissue growth, but otherwise, nothing major." Zier dipped a finger into the blood oozing near his mask and frowned, "Damn it, my body feels like it’s molding." The other two Yautja exchanged shocked glances. "Could we have encountered a virulent pathogen that even the mask can't isolate? Ah! Damn it, I feel that too! We need to get to the medical bay immediately to disinfect and report this to the mothership!" But then Zier suddenly pointed into the distance and exclaimed, "Look! Isn't that Lord Veron over there?"