"CRASH!" a dull thud echoed as the sand hurricane seemed to hit a wall, recoiling backward violently. Zheng Zha was also struck hard, slammed directly over Zhang Jie and Zero Point into the front seats of the van. The three of them were instantly knocked dizzy. Behind the rear of the vehicle, the sand hurricane slowly coalesced into a humanoid shape. Imhotep, the Undying Priest, crouched low, his shoulders constantly festering and burning. The Natron Ring indeed possessed immense destructive power against spectral or ghostly entities, a force even Imhotep, immune to spirit-based bullets, could not withstand.

Zhao Yingkong reacted just as swiftly, her hand moving in a blur to draw a dagger from her waist. The blade was wreathed in intense flame. The moment she drew it, the four mummy guards summoned by Zheng Zha recoiled sharply, seeming deeply apprehensive of the fiery weapon. Even Imhotep, standing on the ground, frowned with strange caution.

"Hold tight!" O'Connell yelled, slamming his foot on the accelerator and driving the minibus forward with a surge. With another heavy thump, the bus knocked over a large stack of wooden barrels by the roadside. Many of the undead creatures trailing the minibus were instantly overturned. The minibus seized the opportunity and sped away, leaving behind the slowly regenerating Imhotep and the countless undead crushed beneath the rolling barrels.

Imhotep suddenly let out a fierce roar, opening his mouth toward the minibus. A dense, teeming swarm of flies erupted from his maw.

These flies converged like a black cloud upon the minibus, instantly sending Evie and Qin Zhuiyu into screams. Although Zhan Lan didn't scream, her face turned pale with fright. Among the girls, only Zhao Yingkong remained silently composed.

Seeing the thick mass of flies about to engulf them, Zhang Heng proved to be the quickest to react. He tore off his shirt and stood behind the minibus, waiting until the swarm reached him. He then raised the shirt and began wildly swatting.

Zheng Zha and the others quickly followed suit, tearing off their own shirts to beat back the insects.

Even the bearded man in black removed his heavy robe, joining the desperate effort.

The flies themselves weren't overtly aggressive, but their sheer density was nauseating. Their only real impact was severely obscuring visibility; several meters away from the minibus, nothing was clearly discernible. In frustration, O'Connell was forced to drastically reduce speed, yet he still repeatedly slammed into streetlamps along the way.

The entire bus careened forward in a jarring procession.

As everyone battled the flies, a loud shout in ancient Egyptian suddenly rang out from not far away. Evie quickly translated, "He's calling his mummy guards! That ancient Egyptian phrase he just used means—" Before she could finish, a muffled impact sounded from the front of the vehicle. A mummy guard had landed on the minibus's hood, raising its scimitar to strike O'Connell.

O'Connell bellowed and wrenched the steering wheel hard, sending the mummy guards flying off.

Along with them, the occupants of the bus were tossed about violently, but despite the jarring, the dense cloud of flies stubbornly clung to the vehicle, maddening everyone to the point of wanting to open fire blindly.

"Damn it, if we make it out alive, I'm buying buckets of insecticide and mosquito coils!" Zhang Jie scrambled up from the floor, swatting flies as he cursed loudly.

"Insecticide... mosquito coils? Yes, mosquito coils!" Zhan Lan suddenly cried out in surprise. She fumbled at her waist, retrieved two smoke grenades, pulled the pins without hesitation, and tossed them into the van. Thick smoke immediately billowed out. Since the vehicle was moving forward, the smoke streamed backward. The dense haze brought tears and sneezes even to human lungs, let alone the flies. Vast numbers of the insects instantly died in swathes. As the dead flies mounted, O'Connell’s view finally began to clear.

Before the group could cheer, the sight ahead made their scalps tingle. Looking into the distance, they could essentially see the port, but the path ahead was choked with an uncountable mass of the undead. Furthermore, on the surrounding walls, rooftops, and the road surface, mummy guards were so numerous they defied counting—at least a thousand of them. It was uncertain if Imhotep, empowered by absorbing the American, had grown stronger in his creation, or if he had gathered every mummy guard in Cairo. Regardless, the number of guards before them was equivalent to a small army.

All eyes turned back to Zheng Zha. He offered a wry smile. "There's no way I can summon another tornado. My vampire energy is only a quarter recovered. Even if I managed a meager storm, it would probably be too weak to blow away that many mummy guards..."

"Then what do we do?" several people asked in unison, instinctively treating Zheng Zha as their anchor in this desperate moment.

Zheng Zha took a deep breath, circulating his internal energy to retrieve all the spirit-based bullets from the Natron Ring. Then he shouted, "O'Connell, charge! We have nothing to lose; staying here is death anyway. We might as well risk it all now. Damn it, charge for the port! That's our only hope for survival!" O'Connell also drew a deep breath, then jammed the accelerator to the floor, steering the minibus straight toward the horde of the undead.

Everyone watched in silence as the mass of creatures drew closer, until Zheng Zha picked up his submachine gun and began firing along the sides of the street. Everyone else with a firearm joined the frenzied attack. The minibus plunged into the undead throng, instantly spraying gore beneath its wheels.

Mummy guards began leaping onto the bus from all sides. Although Zheng Zha, Zhang Jie, and Zero Point maintained suppressive fire, the sheer number of guards was overwhelming. As the first mummy landed on the roof, increasingly heavy impacts signaled more arrivals from above.

A curved scimitar pierced the roof, stabbing downward.

Zheng Zha gritted his teeth, clamped the submachine gun between his jaws, then flipped open the window and scrambled out. Under the stunned gaze of everyone, he pushed off the roof with his feet and leaped upwards. In the instant of his ascent, his eyes glazed over with a distant blankness—a clear sign of unlocking the Gene Lock. Over a dozen mummy guards stood on the roof. As Zheng Zha vaulted up from below, they seemed momentarily stunned. Then, the two nearest guards immediately slashed with their blades. But the reaction speed of the unlocked Zheng Zha was phenomenal. While still airborne, he snatched the submachine gun from his mouth and unleashed a rapid pop-pop-pop. These two guards, along with several others nearby, were instantly pulverized by the spirit-based bullets.

Upon unlocking the Gene Lock, even just the first stage, Zheng Zha's combat power soared linearly.

Waves of combat energy continuously flooded his mind. Since he had unlocked the second stage previously, entering the first stage had become much simpler; a mere perception of danger was enough to trigger it, and the subsequent after-effects were far milder.

In short, unlocking the Gene Lock's first stage was now something he could deploy without reservation.

In this state, Zheng Zha easily dispatched the mummy guards on the roof with his submachine gun. However, the surrounding number of mummies was terrifying; they continued to swarm the bus. Dozens more leaped onto the roof every second. Zheng Zha could no longer spare attention for anyone else; he had to focus entirely on hacking down the mummy guards. Shell casings rained down like metallic drizzle onto the roof. In less than a minute, his supply of spirit-based bullets was exhausted. He switched to his left fist, encased in the Natron Ring, and punched. A charging mummy guard instantly dissolved into sandy dust.

"O'Connell! Hurry up! Hope is just ahead!" Zheng Zha roared, weaving through the mummy guards. Every punch ripped through one or two mummies consecutively. The spirit-breaking function of the Natron Ring was extraordinary; the mummies were wounded on contact and killed on impact. But this state was intensely draining on his internal energy. Even if each punch consumed only a tiny bit, after shattering a hundred mummies, Zheng Zha felt his internal reserves plummeting toward exhaustion.

As he yelled, the sand hurricane struck again from behind the minibus. This time, the scale of the storm appeared larger and more ferocious than before. A bald human face was distinctly visible within the swirling sand. The giant face opened its mouth to swallow the minibus, but with a sound too faint to hear—a cat's meow—the giant face seemed to see something terrifying. It instantly dissolved into dust, whipping toward a nearby rooftop. There, the original form of Imhotep, the Undying Priest, reappeared.

Zheng Zha inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. In that moment of distraction, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. A mummy had struck him with its scimitar. Fortunately, he was in the unlocked state. He twisted away, and the blade sliced past, shaving off a large flap of skin but failing to hit bone. Stung by the attack, Zheng Zha dared not look elsewhere. He blasted the mummy guard to pieces with one punch, then focused entirely on the fight.

The minibus was nearing the port. Just one more turn and a straight run would take them directly inside. But the entire vicinity was now densely packed with the undead. If the others weren't constantly firing forward to clear a path, the bus would be crushing flesh with every inch it moved.

"They arrived just in time!" From a rooftop flanking the street, the Little Monk of the Indian Team and his companions looked down at the bus. The Little Monk glanced up at the hesitant Imhotep in the distance and sneered, "Is that a cat? Ram, kill the cat! Xue Nai, connect to Ram’s mind and guide him to the cat's location!" The beautiful blindfolded woman nodded. The handsome young Indian man behind the Little Monk also closed his eyes. A steel needle slowly floated up in his palm. The moment the blindfolded woman nodded, the needle vanished, reappearing seconds later already stained with blood.

The blindfolded woman frowned. "As soon as the cat was killed, the mental interference returned. I can no longer sense the mental systems of those inside the bus..." The Little Monk watched Imhotep transform back into a sand hurricane in the distance and sneered, "It doesn't matter. If Ram's team showed killing intent toward the Central Continent Team, mental jamming would likely appear immediately. It's better to kill that cat... then Imhotep will help us complete the task of eliminating the Central Continent Team."

Before the Little Monk finished speaking, a wolf's howl erupted beside him. Goldfang, who had been standing quietly nearby, suddenly let out a loud bay, his fur thickening and lengthening as his body began to swell. The Little Monk quickly said, "Xue Nai! Control his psychic form! Appearing now might cause Imhotep to view us as enemies. We'll be bogged down in a tough fight with so many mummies!" The blindfolded woman, Xue Nai, furrowed her brow, but her face grew increasingly pale until the moment the blond doctor transformed into a massive werewolf and leaped out. She spat a mouthful of blood. "Captain, I can't. His psychic form has gone completely mad... I can't control him."

The Little Monk sighed heavily. He saw the mummies on the surrounding walls already beginning to run toward them. It was too late for anything now.

Zheng Zha was intensely focused on attacking the mummy guards when a sharp killing intent suddenly struck him from behind. He only managed to half-turn before a massive shadow lunged before him, knocking him clean out of the minibus. The sheer force sent him tumbling several times among the horde of the undead. When he and the giant shadow finally stopped rolling, they were nearly ten meters from the bus.

Zheng Zha finally saw clearly: the giant shadow was the blond doctor, Arot—no, Arot transformed into the giant werewolf. It howled madly.

The crystal scalpel-like nails ceaselessly sliced through the surrounding undead. The speed of its fingers and palms was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, turning the corpses into chunks of flesh mere centimeters in size.

The giant werewolf howled again and launched itself at Zheng Zha. Its five crystal-scalpel claws slashed viciously toward him, their speed astonishing.

Zheng Zha’s danger sense hit its peak. The incoming killing intent was as sharp as blades; he didn't doubt for a second he would be shredded into mince meat, just like the surrounding zombies. Just as the crystal claws neared him, he instantly entered the second stage of the Gene Lock. He blocked the giant werewolf's wrist with his left hand while driving his right fist savagely into its abdominal muscles. His muscles began to expand rapidly upon impact. With a muffled thud, Zheng Zha's punch felt like striking a thick tire, and his left hand, blocking the wrist, felt as if it had been struck by a steel bar, rendering the entire arm numb.

The giant werewolf missed its strike and suddenly leaped, clamping its legs around Zheng Zha’s head. A slight twist would snap his neck clean, like dry wood. Zheng Zha reacted just as quickly, drawing a dagger from the Natron Ring and wildly slashing horizontally toward the werewolf's head. Neither fighter retreated an inch; they were giving their absolute maximum effort in the clash.

Both were now in the unlocked Gene Lock state, fighting with everything they had. They were oblivious to everything else besides killing the other. For instance, Imhotep, having turned into a sand hurricane, swept back into the minibus. The American was helplessly swept out, and simultaneously, the blank-eyed Zhao Yingkong was also swept out of the minibus by the hurricane.

The moment she flew out, Zhao Yingkong powerfully kicked off the minibus window, the force shattering the glass. At the same time, she lunged toward Imhotep, who was slowly reforming into his human shape. Just before he could inhale the American, Zhao Yingkong plunged her dagger fiercely into Imhotep’s left chest, right over his heart. Intense flames instantly erupted from his chest cavity. Imhotep screamed, dropping the American. The unlocked Zhao Yingkong reacted with incredible speed; before the American fell into the undead throng, she violently kicked him, sending him flying back into the minibus, before she herself shot toward the two engaged in desperate close combat far off.

Zheng Zha's chest and stomach had already been pierced several times by the werewolf's crystal scalpels, blood pouring out like water. The werewolf’s arm, however, was severed cleanly at the shoulder. Against the terrifying power of the high-frequency vibrating particle cutting dagger, any clean hit almost guaranteed severance. The giant werewolf had paid a hefty price too.

Zhao Yingkong's sudden charge caught the giant werewolf completely off guard; it had been entirely focused on Zheng Zha. By the time it sensed an attack from behind, Zhao Yingkong had savagely driven her dagger into the side of the werewolf's chest again. She was then violently punched away by the werewolf. Before Zheng Zha could capitalize, the giant werewolf howled and sprinted away along the wall. Left with no choice, Zheng Zha lunged toward where Zhao Yingkong had been thrown, pulling the young woman back from the sea of the undead.

Zheng Zha held Zhao Yingkong tightly, using his dagger to slash down the surrounding undead and the attacking mummy guards. They were moving further and further away from the minibus. Zheng Zha couldn't spare a moment for thanks; hugging Zhao Yingkong, he desperately chased after the vehicle. With leaps and bounds, the minibus finally rounded the corner and entered the last straight road leading to the port.

The group had ridden a wave of intense elation and despair throughout their journey. Now, at the port, there wasn't a single pleasure craft. Several boats bobbed on the river surface about a hundred meters away. The closest vessel was a large cargo freighter, still ten meters from the pier. Zheng Zha, holding Zhao Yingkong, stood frozen. Despair filled the hearts of everyone, him included, and those on the bus. Behind them, countless undead surged forward, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mummy guards relentlessly attacked. They were trapped.

"O'Connell! Trust me, charge! Drive the car straight ahead, don't think about anything else, just floor the accelerator and go forward!" Zheng Zha gritted his teeth and roared, running desperately toward the minibus. O'Connell, in the driver's seat, also bit down hard and shouted, slamming the gas pedal to speed the minibus down the straight path toward the river. Everyone stared blankly at the receding freighter on the water, a haze of confusion clouding their minds.

Running, Zheng Zha pulled the Book of the Dead from the Natron Ring. He loudly chanted an incantation that Saito Hajime had taught him—a spell to control stone, capable of burying bodies, or—changing the terrain! Slowly, the road in front of the minibus began to rise. Everyone noticed the anomaly, but no one spoke; all eyes were fixed on the large cargo ship on the river. O'Connell’s voice grew hoarse as he strained to keep the steering wheel steady, forcing the minibus’s trajectory directly toward the freighter. The bus sped forward along the ever-steepening road.

As Zheng Zha recited the spell, the Book of the Dead drained his strength completely. He staggered, and just as he was about to collapse, Zhao Yingkong flipped up, hoisted him onto her shoulder, and carried him. This small, delicate girl now exhibited incredible power. Carrying Zheng Zha with one arm, she pulled the Grappling Hook (a claw attached to a chain for climbing steep walls) from her chest and hurled it fiercely toward the minibus. A few meters away, the claw caught the bus window. Then, the two of them, along with the minibus, were violently pulled through the air toward the freighter on the river... toward the hope of survival... Leaping forward.