The shaken survivor stared at the body of his leader, whose twitching had finally stopped. Thick blood flowed from the horrifying gash on his neck, where the glass had cut deep, filling the room with a pungent mix of dust and blood.
Meanwhile, Xia Leng, who had been blasted against the wall by a point-blank shotgun blast, had taken the full force of the storm of steel pellets. His upper body was riddled with wounds, and his internal organs were shredded beyond recognition.
Despite the massive injuries that would have killed any ordinary person instantly, Xia Leng was still breathing, fully conscious, and enduring the excruciating pain. The black tendrils of the virus within his body tried to repair the fatal wounds, writhing desperately to close the gaping holes. However, the sheer number of injuries caused by hundreds of steel pellets made even these internal "doctors" struggle to keep up.
Only one of the bikers was left standing. Xia Leng attempted to muster the last of his strength to take him down, but as soon as he exerted himself, a sharp pain surged through his throat, and he spat out a large pool of black blood. His body, drained of all energy, slumped helplessly against the wall.
The injuries were too severe, and the remaining energy and nutrition within him were insufficient to quickly heal the wounds. Xia Leng had already noticed that the black tendrils within him consumed a significant amount of energy and food reserves when repairing his wounds. This was why he had been so ravenous on his journey, feeling an urge to devour anything living that crossed his path.
The last biker, now fully awake from his shock, was astonished to see that his opponent had survived such a devastating shotgun blast.
"You really are a Baptized! But after suffering this kind of damage, even with your heaven-sent superpowers, you must be helpless now! Hahaha!"
He raised his shotgun, now holding the last bullet, and stepped over his leader's corpse, a sinister grin spreading across his face. The death of his leader meant nothing to him; the precious pale-blue crystal within Xia Leng's head was the real treasure.
He was sick of being someone else's lackey. With that Baptized crystal, he could rebuild a gang of his own and finally experience what it felt like to be the boss!
The "Lucky One" aimed the gun at Xia Leng's lowered head, ready to finish him off once and for all without worrying about damaging the precious crystal inside his skull. These crystals were said to be tens of times harder than diamonds, impervious to extreme temperatures, and capable of withstanding the pressure of a hydraulic press without the slightest scratch.
Some of the so-called "upper-class" individuals in the post-apocalyptic world even had these crystals fashioned into jewelry.
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Xia Leng suddenly lifted his head, a cold, sinister smile on his face as he stared at the biker.
"Aren't you a Baptized yourself? After being a lackey for so long, you haven't realized it yet?"
...
The remaining biker was momentarily stunned by Xia Leng's words.
A Baptized?
He had always dreamed of becoming one of these elite survivors, the so-called "superior" humans of the post-apocalyptic world. But he knew his own abilities—or lack thereof—well enough. Otherwise, why would he be working under someone else?
"Hmph, a Baptized? I think you're just trying to butter me up because you're afraid to die. Don't worry; I promise to make it quick!"
"Haven't you noticed how lucky you are? When I shot at you, my gun misfired; when I threw the knife at you, something fell and blocked it; and when you walked in front of your leader, the glass shard I threw should have slit your throat, but instead, it curved and killed your boss behind you..."
Xia Leng's words finally made the biker recall the recent events. At the time, the tension was so high that he hadn't noticed these details. Now that he thought about it, it all seemed true...
And not just this time—there had been other occasions when he narrowly escaped death during hunts with his leader. He had just chalked it up to occasional good luck.
"Could it be that you're saying I'm one of those hidden lucky mystics? Why are you telling me this? Are you hoping I'll spare your life?"
The biker was suddenly overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of being one of the "noble" Baptized, as if his wildest dreams had come true! But he wasn't completely convinced—surely he couldn't pry open his own skull to see if the crystal was really there.
"I'm telling you this because I don't want us noble new humans to become the lackeys of those foolish old humans. Whether you believe it or not is up to you. Go ahead and do it. I'd rather die by the hands of a fellow Baptized than at the hands of some ordinary scavenger," Xia Leng said, coughing up another pool of black blood as he finished speaking. He slumped weakly against the wall, appearing resigned to his fate.
"Is that so? Well, I appreciate it. In this world, there aren't many good people like you left. But you know what happens to good people in times like these, right?" the biker sneered. He had no intention of listening to Xia Leng's words any longer. The stench of blood was thick in the air, and he didn't want to risk attracting something he couldn't handle.
"Alright, you've said enough. Now, it's time for you to die!"
He raised his shotgun again, his finger on the trigger, savoring the feeling of having the life of a "noble" Baptized in his hands. Just as he was about to pull the trigger and ascend to the peak of his life—
Crack!
Suddenly, there was a sharp snap, the sound of a bone breaking, followed by a chill around his ankle and then searing pain. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground, his shotgun flying several meters away.
He turned around in shock to see a nightmarish black tendril wrapped around his ankle, twisting his right foot in a full circle into a grotesque position.
The tendril had formed from a pool of black blood beneath him—blood that had oozed from Xia Leng's body...
What... what kind of monster is this?! It can attack with its own blood?!
When he looked back at Xia Leng, the man's resigned expression was gone, replaced by a cold, dark gaze that seemed to bore into his soul, making him tremble uncontrollably.
It turned out that Xia Leng wasn't stalling out of fear but waiting for the pool of black blood to reach him!
Finally realizing this, the biker desperately lunged forward, trying to grab his fallen shotgun. But another tendril quickly formed from the black blood, coiling around his outstretched arm and twisting it violently.
...
"Ahhh!!!"
He screamed in agony as he watched his arm bend at an impossible angle. Overwhelmed by a desperate will to survive, he begged Xia Leng for mercy, willing to do anything, even if it meant becoming his slave.
But Xia Leng's expression remained cold. He watched as the man sobbed and pleaded, a faint smile curling his lips.
"If you don't believe you're a Baptized, let me confirm it for you."
As soon as Xia Leng finished speaking, another tendril emerged from the blood, wrapping around the biker's neck and squeezing until his face turned bright red.
With a single thought, the tendril tightened further.
Crunch.
The biker's head was wrenched from his body, rolling to a stop next to Xia Leng. His face was frozen in an expression of disbelief...
Finally, the remaining blood, as if guided by some consciousness, began to envelop the biker's body, forming a writhing black mass. In less than three seconds, when the blood receded, the body had vanished, absorbed as nutrients by the Blacklight virus, which then flowed back into Xia Leng's body.
With a surge of energy, the virus went to work on Xia Leng's injuries. The tendrils wove together to fill the gaps in his flesh, forcing the countless steel pellets out of his wounds. Even his damaged internal organs were repaired to their original state.
When it was over, Xia Leng stood up once more. His black hoodie was as pristine as when he first wore it, without a single bullet hole in sight...