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Holy Fist!

Bai Xiao descended, lifting his head to not only see the bizarre and magnificent world but also the professional modifier he had downloaded before crossing over. "Drain all experience from my sub-occupations, 'Biological Mecha Master', 'Mystic Explorer', 'Special Hypnotist', transforming it into one million potential points, all enhancing my main occupation, 'Fighter'!" "I... have obtained the golden ultimate occupation, 'God of Martial Combat'!" The largest urban agglomeration in the world, a night of torrential rain. On the ground, countless Killing Ghosts and Fighters fought to the death, while hordes of metal Mechas and Biological Armors exploded and self-destructed. Blood and flame intertwined, plunging everything into primordial violence and chaos. Atop a high tower, Bai Xiao stood silently amidst the rainy darkness, like a stiff and terrifying statue. His crimson eyes looked down below, restrained yet bloody, cold yet hiding madness. He leaped down with his trench coat wildly dancing. The God of Martial Combat descended upon the final battleground! A cold voice echoed across the city skyline. "Next, I will kill everyone present! If you have the ability, try to stop me..." A modern city of extravagant luxury, an era of entertainment and consumption supreme. Beneath seventy years of peaceful façade, lied another mad and bloody Inner World. Fighters, masters of their martial traditions, and Killing Ghosts, controlled by combat modes, engaged in a frightful, relentless slaughter. Metal Mechas with terrifying energy and Biological Armors extracted from monstrous cells commenced a brutal struggle between old and new technologies. In this era infested with machinery and altered by external entities, to proclaim the power unique to humans might be an unimaginable romance...

Gray tombstone · Urbain
Pas assez d’évaluations
159 Chs

070 Bai Xiao!!! (4k)

In the luxurious office.

Ye Ping clenched his fist excitedly and quickly left.

The tenth floor, the manager's office.

This was also an exceedingly lavish place, the floor covered with hand-woven wool rugs that had been dyed in sections with colors like sandy yellow, dark blue, and creamy white—colors extracted from plant leaves, uniformly applied. After completion, a faint scent of grass and flowers lingered, refreshingly mild, and extraordinarily precious.

A single rug made from a blend of lamb wool and soft silk could cost tens of thousands. Now, it was merely trampled, with footprints indenting its surface.

A sky-blue desk was placed beside the large tea-colored floor-to-ceiling windows.

The morning sun from outside the window shone in, bright and splendid.

One could see that there were other pieces of furniture in the office, including a wardrobe and a bookshelf with dark metal inlays, and a plush red sofa.

A coffee table, tea set, red wine, paintings, and so forth.