That serpent's head moved with blinding speed, striking Zhao Zheng almost instantaneously, its jaws gaping wide to bite down on his rigid form.

Zhao Zheng felt death looming. In that fraction of a second, everything around him slowed to a crawl. Qi Tengyi was slowly pushing himself up from the floor; Zhan Lan rushed frantically toward them; scraps of paper and wood dust swirled in the distance; and before his eyes, the massive serpent head approached, bringing with it a foul, putrid stench that Zhao Zheng could almost taste.

If unlocking the second stage of the Gene Lock granted absolute control over the physical body, did the nervous system count as part of that body? If the full potential of the nervous system was unleashed to one hundred percent, what would the resulting reaction speed be…? To onlookers, Zhao Zheng was only a blur of violent trembling and frantic struggling; the tremors were so small and rapid that observers could only perceive a faint outline where his body should be, unable to discern his face or form. Just as the serpent head was about to make contact, the beautiful, wide-eyed Xue Nai suddenly cried out, “No, it’s no use… the Mind Chain can’t hold him anymore!” Before the words died on her lips, Zhao Zheng’s eyes flashed open, and he darted past, his movement grazing the gigantic serpent’s maw. He immediately drove a powerful punch into the massive head… the fist bearing the Nà Ring, into which he channeled his internal energy. Like snow meeting raging fire, the immense serpent head didn't even manage a grunt before a gaping hole was blown into it, nearly shattering the entire left side of its face. This wasn't the end; Zhao Zheng suddenly leaped up, bracing both legs against the serpent’s head, and propelled himself forward at incredible speed toward Qi Tengyi.

“Give me the grenade!” Even if Zhao Zheng hadn’t spoken, the effect would have been the same. His speed was ten times that of Qi Tengyi’s. In the blink of an eye, he snatched the grenade from Qi Tengyi’s grip. After pulling the pin, he immediately tossed the smoke grenade toward the Little Monk and the others. With a sharp hiss, thick white smoke instantly billowed through the museum.

“That’s enough, everyone get out of the museum now… Damn it, what are you all just standing there for? Get out!” Zhao Zheng finally had a moment to turn and address O'Connell. Seeing O'Connell and the others staring blankly, he roared in frustration. Only then did they snap back to reality and scramble toward the museum exit.

“Zhan Lan, you go out with them too, make sure they don’t get separated… Qi Tengyi, hurry up, help me decipher this passage of incantation; I found something really good in the basement… Qi Tengyi?” Zhao Zheng spoke urgently, pulling several mummy fragments and some stone shards from his pocket, then retrieving the Necronomicon from his Nà Ring. But Qi Tengyi remained frozen, standing stock-still until, several seconds later, he suddenly collapsed. It was then that Zhao Zheng and Zhan Lan clearly saw a steel needle lodged precisely in his heart. They had no idea when or how it had struck him.

Zhao Zheng’s eyes blazed with fury as he quickly cradled Qi Tengyi. Yet, he dared not touch the needle… Judging by its position and depth, the needle had pierced Qi Tengyi’s heart; removing it would almost certainly cause him to die instantly. “Zheng—Zheng, give me the book to look at,” Qi Tengyi mumbled, blood trickling from his mouth with every word. Soon, his mouth was filled with dark, viscous blood.

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Zhao Zheng held him tightly. “Zero Point and Zhao Yingkong are experts with wounds; you’ll be fine…” “Damn it! I told you to bring the book! Argh!” Qi Tengyi suddenly bellowed. The sheer force of his yell caused him to vomit another mouthful of blood, and the blood soaking his shirt pooled over his chest.

Zhao Zheng numbly flipped the Necronomicon open to the magical page he needed. Qi Tengyi traced the ancient characters with his fingers, reading the pronunciation aloud word by word. Zhao Zheng focused every ounce of his attention, memorizing the sounds of the ancient Egyptian script. After about ten seconds, Qi Tengyi finished reciting the passage. The Little Monk did not pursue them out of the dense fog, perhaps because close-quarters combat wasn't his specialty. Zhao Zheng sensed the Monk had retreated back to the second floor.

“…I’m a damned tomb raider. Those ancient treasures, the magnificent culture of ancient China—it is second to none! I wanted to bring that brilliant culture back to the world… but they deceived me and sold all those relics abroad. Damn it, I’m not a traitor to my country…” Qi Tengyi’s voice faded until the final words were barely a whisper. As he finished, he lay still, the hot flow of blood from his heart gradually ceased, and the steel needle in his chest automatically retracted, floating slowly back into the swirling fog.

“…Guardians of Death, heed my call and manifest into this world…” Zhao Zheng gently placed Qi Tengyi’s body down. Gritting his teeth, he held the Necronomicon and began ceaselessly reciting the pronunciations Qi Tengyi had taught him. As his own vampiric energy waned, the mummy fragments and stone shards on the floor fused together, expanding and shifting shape. Within seconds, four skeletal mummy warriors, wielding scimitars and shields, materialized before Zhao Zheng. With a wave toward the fog, these four warriors leaped into the mist with uncanny speed and motion. Immediately, a series of sharp, cracking sounds echoed from within the haze.

“Zhan Lan, carry Qi Tengyi out. Remember, don’t let O’Connell’s group get separated…” Zhao Zheng took a deep, shuddering breath, gripping his dagger, and mumbled the instruction.

Zhan Lan started to argue, but upon seeing the ashen look on Zhao Zheng’s face, she could only relent, clutching the corpse of Qi Tengyi and running toward the exit. Just as her figure vanished around a corner, a feral howl ripped through the air from the direction of the display cases.

A Lycanthrope nearly three meters tall rose from the swirling paper and wood dust, a battered Zhao Yingkong dangling from one massive claw. The young girl was covered in lacerations; her shoulder looked nearly bitten clean off, and her left arm hung uselessly, yet her vitality was stubborn. Her eyes weakly flickered toward Zhao Zheng.

The giant Lycanthrope threw its head back and roared madly, suddenly flinging Zhao Yingkong toward Zhao Zheng. As Zheng was forced to catch her barehanded, the beast launched itself at him, its crystal surgical scalpel aimed as if to impale the girl. Zhao Zheng had no choice but to embrace Zhao Yingkong, then spun around, using his back to shield her from the scalpel. The immense force drove the blade deep into his body and slammed him violently against the thick wall, which buckled inward with a muffled thud. The massive Lycanthrope propelled Zhao Zheng straight through the wall and out onto the street beyond the museum.

The creature’s claw was now deeply embedded in Zhao Zheng’s left back. Howling wildly, it lifted him up, its other claw reaching for his throat. Zhao Zheng lacked even the slightest chance to resist. In the periphery of his vision, he saw the Little Monk and his group emerging from the smoke. A crushing sense of despair settled deep in his heart. This time, there was truly no retreat left… CRACK! A bullet tore through the air at an almost imperceptible speed, traveling horizontally through the Lycanthrope’s right lung, passing clean through its chest cavity, and slamming into the far wall of the museum. With terrifying, unmitigated force, the bullet pulverized that wall as well—the colossal destructive power of a Gauss sniper rifle.