Chapter 13 Saint? Dictator?_3

"Uh-huh, I know."

*

It was late at night.

An Zhizhen lifted her wrist to check her watch, her expression filled with worry.

According to their usual routine from the previous days, by this time, Dongsheng would have certainly returned to the campsite to rest.

But today, he was several hours late and hadn't come back...

The conversation they had in the morning replayed in her mind.

"The unexplored areas are dwindling; I suppose by tomorrow we can finish..." that's what he had said.

Could it be because the seventh day was fast approaching, and in order to fulfill the "one-week promise," Dongsheng had decided not to rest and planned to clear the remaining areas in one go?

"Really, didn't I tell him 'don't overdo it, be careful'...?"

An Zhizhen murmured to herself.

No matter how urgent or anxious she was, there was nothing she could do to help with this matter.

She couldn't possibly go back to the building to look for him. If she encountered ghosts, being "an ordinary person" would only be a burden to Dongsheng.

She paced around the campsite several times. After sighing, she could only helplessly return to her tent.

...

This scene was caught by someone with ulterior motives.

Deng Rong, crouched in a corner, flicked away the cigarette butt in his hand, a pleased smile spread across his face. He stood up, stretched lazily, and walked towards the campsite.

"What are you going to do?"

Kong Yulin coldly inquired from the side.

"Have you found the 'core'?" he asked with a smile in return.

"I found it. I'm ninety percent sure the 'core' is the 'thing' we're looking for."

"That's good to hear. It seems we still need to stay one step ahead. After all, we have your 'Flying Gu'."

Deng Rong said.

"However, now that we've found it, we need to figure out what to do with Cen Dongsheng. We can't just ignore the risk."

"So?"

"So, I plan to add an extra chip to the mix—say, 'a hostage'."

The man grinned, and for a moment, his mouth became sharp and protruding like a beak.

...

"Doctor An, Doctor An, I've come to you."

Standing outside the tent, Deng Rong said with a smile.

He was not surprised to hear a gasp of surprise and a wary response from inside.

"It's too late, Mr. Deng, let's discuss this tomorrow morning."

"Ah, but I can't do that. You see, I've got a very urgent matter..."

Just as Deng Rong was about to pull back the curtain, a voice suddenly came from the side.

"What are you trying to do? That's Doctor An's tent!"

Someone noticed the situation and approached, trying to intervene.

Deng Rong's expression suddenly turned cold.

"Shut up." He flicked his hand, "What I do is none of your concern, is it?"

His motions seemed casual, but in the instant his palm swung, a shockwave of air whistled into shape and shot towards someone not far away.

The onlooker who came to stop him screamed, falling backward, blood spattering from his chest.

The seemingly intangible air turned razor-sharp under his command, as lethal as a blade!

By now, other startled people from the campsite had come out, and upon witnessing this scene, they all froze in place, too frightened to move.

Deng Rong snorted lightly. His face smiled again as he turned toward the tent and said:

"Doctor An, Miss An, your little brother isn't here right now, is he? Good, I'm afraid he might misunderstand, so let's you and I have a proper talk."

There was a moment when no one dared to come forward to stop him, as the last person who attempted to play the hero lay right before their eyes.

...

Deng Rong pulled back the curtain of the tent in one swift move.

But what he saw was not the frightened woman he had imagined, but—

A fist, howling towards him.

A fist so unbelievably vast, carrying a terrifying force, reflected in Deng Rong's pupils, like an oncoming train bearing down on him.

His smile stiffened on his face.

The heavy punch was like a cannonball fired point-blank, unrelentingly smashing into the man's chest.

"Crack."

Time around seemed to slow down, and he distinctly heard the crisp sound of his bones shattering.

The young man ambushing inside the tent slowly stood up.

The dim light from behind cast a tall, muscular silhouette onto Deng Rong's face, compelling him to look up.

At that moment, Deng Rong saw, beneath the young man's black hair, eyes cold and unyielding as iron.