The clash of four Corpse Kings unfolded—a spectacle unprecedented, intense, and ferocious.
The shockwaves reverberated far and wide, catching the attention of a scouting team and prompting the official refuge to take immediate notice. This disturbance triggered a flurry of activity, culminating in an emergency meeting attended by Director Tang Jianming, the chief commander, Dr. Chen, and other high-ranking officials.
As they scrutinized the satellite images relayed by the scouting team, their expressions darkened. The swift evolution of the zombies, coupled with the intelligence exhibited by the Corpse Kings, was far beyond their expectations. The Ladder Project, initially intended for a later stage, now seemed urgent.
Among the group, Dr. Chen Ming watched the battle between the four Corpse Kings with a glint of unbridled excitement in his eyes. His expression was almost manic, like a hunter discovering a rare and elusive prey. Without a word, he left the meeting room, vanishing into the shadows.
Boom! Boom!
The battle raged on.
Inside the shopping mall, the fight among the four Corpse Kings had reached a fever pitch. The arrival of the Shadowface Corpse King had temporarily alleviated the dire situation of the Flame Corpse King, allowing him to engage in one-on-one duels against both Tyrant and Overlord Blade.
However, the Flame Corpse King's fate remained grim, as the advantage firmly rested with his opponents.
"Shadow Bind!"
The Shadowface Corpse King stomped his foot, sending waves of shadow rippling outward. Black, writhing tendrils emerged from the darkness, slithering towards Overlord Blade, intent on ensnaring him like coiling ropes.
"Slash!"
Unyielding, Overlord Blade swept his colossal sword, severing the tendrils in one decisive arc. Not a single shadowy vine could reach him.
Leaping high, Overlord Blade brought his mighty weapon down in a crushing arc, aiming directly for the crown of the Shadowface Corpse King, determined to split him in two.
"Shadow Slip!"
In the nick of time, the Shadowface Corpse King melded into the shadows, evading the lethal strike entirely. He darted between shadows, weaving through the battlefield with ghostly precision, circling Overlord Blade as he sought an opening for a deadly counterattack.
Yet Overlord Blade remained unperturbed.
He understood that their powers were evenly matched, a balance that would make swift victory impossible. For now, it was enough to stall the Shadowface Corpse King, preventing him from interfering while Tyrant focused on annihilating the critically wounded Flame Corpse King.
And indeed, the tide of battle unfolded as planned.
On the other side of the battlefield, the Flame Corpse King—already crippled and missing half his body—was relentlessly pummeled by Tyrant, whose indomitable aura and ferocious strikes rendered the once-proud ruler utterly powerless.
"Flame Bomb!"
A blazing fireball, a meter in diameter, hurtled toward Tyrant.
With a single punch, Tyrant shattered the fiery projectile, scattering embers harmlessly. His own body, protected by an impenetrable aura, remained unscathed as he closed the distance to his prey.
Crash!
With a thunderous kick, Tyrant sent the Flame Corpse King hurtling through the air. The maimed figure crashed into the ground, bones shattered beyond repair.
"Stay back! Don't come any closer!"
Terrified, the Flame Corpse King roared, clawing desperately at the ground with his remaining hand, dragging his broken body away inch by inch.
Tyrant, fists clenched, let out a low, menacing chuckle as he approached, his footsteps echoing like the tolling of a death knell.
The Shadowface Corpse King emerged from the shadows, his expression twisted with frustration. He had joined this battle with the expectation of aiding the Flame Corpse King in escape, if not victory. But reality painted a different picture.
The Flame Corpse King was hopeless—a worthless, floundering mess. Even with assistance, survival seemed an impossible luxury.
"Useless trash! If you die here, all my efforts will be for nothing. I haven't even gotten my hands on that item yet!"
Cursing under his breath, the Shadowface Corpse King reluctantly summoned reinforcements. Through his authority as a Corpse King, he called upon the zombies under his dominion within the Prosperity District.
The deafening roars of nearly a thousand zombies shook the battlefield as they poured from the district, forming a surging tide that crashed into the mall, joining the fray against Tyrant and Overlord Blade's forces.
Caught off guard by the sudden influx of enemies, Tyrant and Overlord Blade's armies faltered, their initial dominance slipping into a precarious struggle.
Meanwhile, miles away in the tranquil Longjing Lake community, Zhang Yang sensed a sharp decline in the number of zombies under his control. Setting aside his "drink," he gazed in the direction of the shopping mall, his brow furrowed in displeasure.
"Something unexpected has occurred," he murmured.
Rising from his seat, he began a measured walk toward the battlefield.
"I'm curious to see who dares meddle with my plans."
Despite the reinforcements brought by the Shadowface Corpse King, the Flame Corpse King's fate remained sealed.
In a desperate move, the Flame Corpse King summoned his remaining minions to his side, hoping they could shield him from death's grasp, even for a fleeting moment.
But his effort was futile.
These pitiful zombies were no match for the might of Tyrant.
With brutal efficiency, Tyrant tore through the dwindling ranks of the Flame Corpse King's forces. Each step brought him closer to his target, and no amount of cannon fodder could stop him.
Grasping the Flame Corpse King by the throat, Tyrant lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
"Die!"
With a single devastating punch, Tyrant drove his fist through the Flame Corpse King's chest, shattering his heart.
From the mangled remains, Tyrant pulled a fiery-red energy crystal, the core of the defeated Corpse King's power.
The lifeless body crumpled to the ground as Tyrant discarded it without a second glance.