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The scooter's horn blared. No one could understand what it was yelling, but everyone believed it was cursing in the filthiest way possible. Still, nobody cared about what exactly it was “saying.”
That nightmarish horn rang again in Lou Feng’s ears.
Beep beep beep beep beep—
It was as if the shadow of that infamous fecal suction truck from the past had returned, accompanied by that rhythmic, piercing squeal. It plunged Lou Feng once again into suffocating dread, swallowed by memories he could not escape. This time, what came at him was no longer an indescribable tide of terror, but a blinding burst of light like exploding stars.
It was not just conventional steel-core rounds. Mixed within them were silver bullets infused with An Ran’s sword qi. The moment they left the barrel, they burst into dazzling flashes.
With Horsey violently swerving and shaking, countless bullets poured out, erupting from the muzzle in a continuous stream of fire, sweeping across everything with savage force.
After four hundred years, this vast, broken hall once again met a storm and hurricane, its surfaces rapidly eroding and cracking under the relentless bombardment.
In a panic, Lou Feng instinctively raised his spirit-matter shield. At that moment, he felt what it meant to be utterly overwhelmed by sheer output, so much so that his eyes rolled back and his system nearly...
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