Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1612 - 774:

His eyes shone eerily bright in the darkness, like the pupils of a beast, glimmering with a ghostly cold red light.

As his body slowly descended, the car lights barely grazed him, illuminating a face so pale it had no trace of blood.

At first glance, it looked like a paper figure used for mourning at a paper shop.

In such a desolate place, encountering a face ashen white, a figure floating in mid-air is unimaginably terrifying.

The surrounding temperature seemed to drop to freezing instantly.

"Damn!"

The young man’s legs went weak, and the tire wrench in his hand dropped to the ground with a clang as he stutteringly pointed above:

"Wha... What are you, a man or a ghost?!"

The seasoned thug also jumped in fright, a cold sweat breaking out in the palm holding the mountain knife.

But he, after all, was an old hand in the martial world who had chopped people before, so he forcefully swallowed his spit and cursed bravely:

"Damn! You damn pretentious bastard here, I’ve already hit you, come on down if you’ve got the guts."

The man in the trench coat looked down at the two, his gaze like he was observing two poultry ready for slaughter.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, his voice cold in the wind:

"Since you’ve hit me, compensate with your flesh and blood."

As he spoke, his lips parted slightly, revealing a pair of elongated canine teeth.

After hearing this baffling statement, the two simultaneously froze on the spot, a wave of chill rushing from the tailbone straight to the head.

Before they could react further, the man in the tree moved.

He suddenly spread his arms wide, the hem of his trench coat billowing in the night wind like a giant black bat, swooping swiftly from mid-air.

The seasoned thug couldn’t even lift his knife in time.

He only saw a gray blur flash before him, feeling his chest hammered hard by a fierce force.

The whole body flew backward instantly, pressed by an irresistible force against the metal guardrail by the roadside.

The mountain knife slipped from his hand, clanged loudly, and clattered on the asphalt.

The man in the trench coat landed lightly on the ground, head tilted, keenly examining his prey.

The seasoned thug spat out a mouthful of bloody froth, enduring the crushing pain in his chest, and clawed at the guardrail, trembling as he climbed up.

He turned his head and shouted at his comrade standing by the car:

"Ah Qiang, quickly go to the car and get those new guns to deal with him! This damn thing’s a monster!"

The young man, called Ah Qiang, leaned against the car door, shaking legs utterly unable to step forward, even lacking the strength to turn around and grab the car door.

The man in the trench coat let out a cold laugh:

"Guns? You won’t even have the chance to use them."

He started walking slowly forward, eyes gleaming, carrying a cruel intent like a cat taunting a mouse.

Seeing the creature getting closer and closer.

"Damn!"

The seasoned thug was driven to desperation, his survival instincts from the martial world exploding instantly.

He bent down, grabbed the mountain knife from the ground, and with a furious roar, gripped the knife handle with both hands, hacking down fiercely toward the man’s face.

The blade fell with a whoosh.

The man in the trench coat did not dodge, merely raising his left hand.

"Clang——"

The mountain knife forged from steel hacked onto the man’s five fingers, as if striking an iron hook, sparks flying.

The thug’s palm split immediately, the knife bounced away.

In the next second, the man in the trench coat shot out his right hand at lightning speed, grasped the thug’s throat, and lifted his one hundred sixty plus pound body off the ground with one hand.

Then, the man turned his head, opened his mouth, and the elongated canine teeth pierced directly into the throbbing carotid artery.

In mid-air, the thug’s legs kicked violently, eyes bulging, throat emitting a wheezing "grrr" sound.

Within seconds, his struggling diminished rapidly.

His solid muscles deflated like a drained water pouch.

At the same time, his skin lost its gloss, turning a dull gray-white.

The young man by the car witnessed his comrade turn into a dried corpse, terrified to the core.

The actions of this man were just like the vampires in legends.

He scrambled up in a panic, turned around, and rushed desperately down the mountain road.

The man in the trench coat released his grip, letting the thug’s corpse slam to the ground.

Suddenly, a gray afterimage swiftly skimmed across the road.

The young man hadn’t run more than a dozen steps before the back of his neck was grabbed, like a chick being caught.

A tremendous strength forced him to tilt his head up and open his mouth, trying to call for help or beg for mercy.

However, the man in the trench coat immediately pressed up against him from behind and sank his teeth into the side of his neck.

Gulp, gulp...

The sound of swallowing blood was particularly clear on the desolate highway.

The man in the trench coat swallowed the last mouthful of blood and released his grip.

The young man, now a dry corpse, fell to the ground, his eyes sunken, utterly devoid of vitality.

The man raised the back of his hand, leisurely wiping away the bloodstains from the corner of his mouth.

The previously paper-white cheeks quickly flushed with the redness of life, and the dark red pupils returned to a normal brown-black.

He exhaled a long breath, a satisfied rumble resonating in his chest.

Then he bent down, picked up the two dry corpses, walked to the crashed car, and stuffed them into the back seat.

Next, he came to the front of the car, clasping his hands on the inwardly dented bumper.

His arm muscles tensed instantly, and the two-ton car was lifted off the ground by sheer force and hoisted above his head.

He took two steps forward, exerting his waist, and hurled the entire car towards the cliff outside the guardrail.

A hundred meters below was a rushing river.

The black sedan crashed through countless branches, rolling nonstop against the cliffside, making a series of dull thuds.

Finally, with a loud "splash," it plunged into the surging waters, quickly sinking to the riverbed.

The spray soon swallowed everything up.

The man in the trench coat dusted off his hands, turned, and walked into the dense forest beside the highway.

The mist in the mountain forest at night grew thicker, rendering nothing visible beyond ten steps.

Yet the man’s walking speed was astonishingly fast.

He navigated through steep slopes and intricate underbrush without using light to recognize the route.

When encountering a several-meter-wide gorge, he only needed a light tap on a stone with his toe to leap over effortlessly.

He glided silently at high speed through the forest, not even disturbing the birds roosting in the treetops.

After crossing a full two kilometers of rugged mountain paths,

the terrain ahead became gentler, and a small cabin built with thick logs emerged from the mist.

The roof was covered with rainproof tarpaulin, and a dim light peeped through the door’s cracks.

The man in the trench coat walked up and pushed open the wooden door.

A kerosene lamp was lit inside, the air filled with the stench of sweat and a peculiar scent of butter.

A crude wooden table stood in the center, with two people sitting beside it.

On the left was a man as fat as a mountain of meat, tearing into a piece of bloody cold meat with greasy hands.

On the right sat a Lama with a lean face, who seemed to have sustained injuries, with visible bruises at the corners of his eyes and cheekbones.

He wore a dark red robe, its collar and sleeves embroidered with intricate gold trims, exuding an air of nobility.

At this moment, he was slowly and methodically manipulating a string of Human Bone Prayer Beads.

The fat man swallowed the meat in his mouth, looked up, and glanced at the man in the trench coat’s rosy face:

"Full now? Finally willing to come back."

The man in the trench coat pulled out a wooden chair, sat down smoothly, and let out a soft laugh:

"I happened to encounter two blood meals who delivered themselves on the road, so I dealt with them on the way to fill my belly."

The fat man wiped his greasy palms with a towel, his tone somewhat dissatisfied:

"Aren’t you afraid of exposing our whereabouts acting on your own like this? By my count, you’ve sneaked out several times in these past days?"

"If it ruins Lord Claude’s plan, even if Lord White Ghost is willing to protect you, you might find it hard to deal with the consequences."

The man in the trench coat leaned back against the chair, unclasping the buttons on his collar, looking relaxed:

"Being cooped up in this lousy mountain pass every day, my bones are almost rusting. If I don’t supplement my nutrition before the battle to stay energized, what will I use to fight?"

He then curved his lips into a smile, speaking leisurely:

"Besides, you might not know this, but the initial planner of this plan is actually me."

The fat man paused his mouth-wiping motion and looked up at him:

"Is it you?"