```
The thirty-second one.
He Ao pulled out his short sword, and a red radiance spilled from the monster's corpse, merging into the blade.
At this moment, the red glow clinging to the sword was so dense that it seemed almost to form a substantial viscous liquid.
Wielding the sword, He Ao could hear the faint, complex whispers echoing in his ears, as if he were once again standing before the corpse of that dead Divine Being.
He sheathed his sword, looked at the motorcycle beside him, and then at the agent who was leaning on it, retching, "Where's the next one?"
"Ugh—"
The agent retched twice more, feeling as though he was standing on cotton, dizzy, using the motorcycle for support as he stood up.
A bead of clear liquid hung from the corner of his mouth. It wasn't that he wanted to retch; there was simply nothing left in his stomach to throw up anymore, nothing left to come out.
