Just as the two of us stood there, stunned and unable to recover, a faint sound of footsteps suddenly echoed from down the corridor.

Liang Qian and I exchanged a glance, realizing someone was approaching.

Before we could discern friend from foe, it was best not to let the other party discover us.

Otherwise, if we ran into that white-haired old man, we might not even know how we died.

So, I quickly moved to the door and gently shut it, leaving only a narrow crack.

Then, both of us crouched down, peering out through the gap.

We held our breath, waiting for the footsteps to draw nearer and nearer to us.

Since there was lighting in the hallway—flickering though it was—we could still make out a person’s appearance.

Gradually, we saw a figure swaying unsteadily as it walked past our door.

This person was incredibly thin with a sharp face, yet boasted thick eyebrows and large eyes; he looked very much like a monkey.

However, what was most striking wasn't his face, but the attire he wore.

He was dressed in one of those specialized black nylon vests over a short-sleeved shirt, clearly one of the white-haired old man's subordinates.

I recalled seeing a thin man describing Da Xiong's appearance while gesturing in the cargo hold where supplies were stacked earlier; that thin man was almost certainly the one before us now.

Logically, seeing the white-haired old man's subordinate should have put us on high alert.

But at this moment, what filled both Liang Qian and me was mostly confusion.

Because this thin man's eyes were unfocused, and his gait lacked vigor.

His eyes weren't even properly fixed on anything, and he had deep bags underneath them, looking as if he hadn't slept for seven or eight days.

He was hunched over, hands hanging loose; the strap of the assault rifle slung over his shoulder had slipped down to his wrist, causing the muzzle to drag along the floor, emitting a strange, scraping sound as he walked.

When the thin man had walked a good distance away, I turned and whispered to Liang Qian, "What's wrong with this guy?"

Liang Qian shook her head and replied, "I suspect he either saw something that terrified him excessively, or he took some hallucinogenic drug."

Recalling the ruthlessness of those people in the laboratory, I thought to myself, what could possibly frighten someone like that?

Clearly, mere speculation wouldn't yield any answers.

We exchanged a look, and then simultaneously pushed the door open and stepped out, silently trailing behind the thin man.

The thin man walked very slowly, and being so mentally dispersed, he was unlikely to notice us, so we quickly caught up to him.

Just in case, I pulled out my gun, aiming it at the back of his body.

If he suddenly turned around to attack, I would shoot him down first.

The thin man moved forward with sluggish steps, resembling one of those zombies seen in games—utterly bizarre to watch.

I admit, one of the most pointless activities in the world is tailing someone who already has no destination.

And right now, that’s precisely what we were doing.

After following for a while, Liang Qian grew impatient, turning to me and whispering, "Should we grab him and demand answers?"

I was about to reply, "Look at him; we won't get anything sensible out of him anyway."

But Liang Qian suddenly covered her mouth, staring at my face with surprise.

I flinched, suddenly worried I had reverted to Nie Chuan's appearance, which would be a huge problem.

But I touched my face and felt the slight stubble and the tight tension of my facial muscles.

It seemed I had recovered *'s appearance.

Liang Qian then broke the silence, asking, "When did you change faces? How did I not notice at all?"

I felt a bit awkward and said after a moment's thought, "Oh, maybe *wiped off when I was peeking through the door just now?"

Liang Qian naturally didn't believe my flimsy excuse, repeating, "Maybe? Wiped off? What exactly are you..."

She stopped mid-sentence.

Because we saw that the thin man ahead had actually stopped moving.

And more crucially, he had completely shed his (listless/dejected) demeanor and was now standing ramrod straight.

Liang Qian and I also stopped, silently swallowing. I gripped my gun tighter.

The figure stood still for a moment, appearing to listen to the surrounding sounds, or perhaps fixating on something directly in front of him.

But obviously, there was nothing in front of him, and no sound came from around them.

Unless his hearing was superhuman, this man was definitely losing it.

Just as I thought this, the thin man suddenly broke into a swift stride, taking long steps forward. His rifle clattered to the ground due to the sudden, vigorous movement.

But the man paid it no mind, rapidly walking several meters forward before lunging into a room through a door.

I picked up the fallen gun and tossed it to Liang Qian, then quickly followed.

However, by the time we reached the doorway, that door slammed shut with a loud bang, nearly crushing my nose flat.

Liang Qian and I exchanged a look; neither of us had any intention of breaking the door down.

Because we couldn't tell if the man had gone mad or was deliberately luring us inside.

But we didn't have time to deliberate; a tremendous racket erupted from inside the room, whether he was ransacking things or fighting someone, we couldn't tell.

We stood at the threshold for about a minute when suddenly the door burst open with a loud crash, and a human-shaped object flew out.

Fortunately, Liang Qian and I were quick enough to dodge the flying debris of the door.

We immediately looked down and saw a Thunder Corpse lying there, a massive bloody hole ripped in its chest, struggling while spitting blood.

The Thunder Corpse saw us and thrust out its hands, tipped with hard black fingernails, reaching toward us.

But before we could even dodge away, it took its final breath and expired instantly.

Liang Qian and I were both baffled, and just then, the thin man slowly emerged from the room.

This time, however, he had reverted to his listless, spiritless state.

Seeing him shuffling toward us with vacant eyes, we quickly made way for him.

Unexpectedly, the man didn't even glance at us before resuming his slow, aimless wandering down the corridor.

Seeing this, Liang Qian completely forgot about my change of face and asked, "How did this thin man beat a Thunder Corpse—with its copper head and iron arms—to this state with his bare hands?"

A cold sweat broke out on my brow; I admitted I had no clue.

The thin man's only weapon was the one we had seen earlier, and even if he had that rifle, it wouldn't kill a Thunder Corpse.

It seemed I had truly underestimated these men in the black vests; any one of them could be an elite master, perhaps even possessing some sort of special ability.

With this thought, I tugged at Liang Qian, who was still intending to follow, and said, "Don't get too close to him. If he goes berserk, we'll be turned into fragments instantly."

Liang Qian nodded and asked, "Do you think Nie Chuan and the others are alright?"

I wanted to comfort her, but reflecting on the presence of these black-vested individuals, I truly couldn't be certain that they were safe.

Seeing that I remained silent, Liang Qian didn't press the matter further.

We continued to follow the thin man, maintaining a respectful distance.

Subsequently, the thin man took down two more Thunder Corpses, and we finally saw what his actual weapon was.

It turned out that one of the thin man's hands was made of metal.

However, this metal hand was covered with a layer of prosthetic, lifelike skin.

When fighting, that hand would spin violently, like a drill bit, easily capable of punching a hole through a person's abdomen.

Even the copper-headed, iron-armed Thunder Corpses couldn't withstand more than two or three hits from it.

But those Thunder Corpses were certainly not pushovers; in their desperate struggles, they had severely mauled the thin man, tearing off a piece of the prosthetic skin on his hand, which is how we saw the metal underneath.

Seeing him like this, Liang Qian and I simultaneously thought of one phrase: "Killing Machine."

However, this killing machine before us wasn't entirely mechanical; the injured parts of his body still bled, only his hand was forged from metal.

Since no one was tending to this killing machine’s wounds, he bled more and more, and his movements began to slow gradually.

I looked at the trail of blood stretching down the corridor and couldn't help but secretly worry that this guy might just die right there.

But then I reconsidered: these people must have a great many lives on their conscience, and perhaps this was divine retribution catching up with them.

Thinking that way made me feel a little better.

At this moment, the thin man ahead suddenly stumbled and fell while walking, then took a great deal of effort to slowly pull himself back up.

After getting up, he coughed up two mouthfuls of blood and gasped for air loudly.

I sighed softly, unable to bear watching any longer.

But Liang Qian then patted my shoulder and said, "Look, he seems to be muttering something."

Hearing Liang Qian say that, I looked up.