nyslfriends Chapter 207 The Workshop Deadlock
Chapter 207 The Workshop Deadlock
Chewing Bone's murky eyes were filled with astonishment and anger.
Three seconds passed in the blink of an eye. He gathered his killing intent again, preparing to unleash his ability to counterattack.
But Lin Feng didn't give him a chance at all; his other hand had already lashed out with the same force.
"Snapped!"
Another crisp sound.
This blow was even more brutal than the last one. The other half of the Bone-Chewing Ghost's face was instantly charred black. His entire body was as if he had been hit by a heavy hammer. His massive body staggered a few steps and fell heavily to the ground.
He tried his best to push himself up from the ground, but his limbs were as limp as a lump of mud. After struggling for a long time, he still couldn't get up and could only lie on the ground whimpering in pain.
Leng Meng stepped forward, looked at the dying Bone Chewing Monster on the ground, then at the gloves on Lin Feng's hands, a hint of joy flashing in her eyes.
She said with admiration, "Not bad, it's even more powerful than I imagined! Are you hungry? I'll treat you to dinner."
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Studio:
"The act of chewing bones is truly bizarre and cruel, but the tool itself is also bizarre."
"Leng Meng's aura is absolutely perfect for a doting, strong wife—she's so composed, doting, and cool all at once! Who understands that?!"
"Infinite silence + guaranteed slap? This is cheating! Three seconds is enough for Sister Leng to unleash a full combo, right? The Warden is in danger!"
........................
2:50 PM, Workshop in Zone D.
The deafening roar of dozens of sewing machines filled the air, and tiny dust particles floated in the air, resembling a miniature snowfall under the pale lights.
Inside the workshop, hundreds of prisoners were engrossed in their work, their eyes numb, their fingers mechanically repeating the actions of threading, pressing cloth, and stepping on pedals.
In the passageway, which was about two meters wide, Lin Feng walked at the front, Vassim brought up the rear, and Evelyn and Anna were in the middle.
Lin Feng's gaze swept over each face.
His hands, clad in the "Silent Grip," appeared almost relaxed compared to his three taut companions.
"Damn it, this godforsaken place..." Vassim cursed under his breath, his right hand still resting on the butt of his gun. "It's like walking in a lion's cage."
"Everyone, stay alert." Lin Feng's gaze slowly swept across the workstations on both sides. "Keep a close eye on the skin color of each prisoner. If there's any sign of bluish discoloration, don't hesitate, shoot immediately."
The three nodded solemnly.
Like Lin Feng and his group, there were five other patrol teams moving slowly like fish through the other five aisles in the workshop.
Every trainee prison guard was on edge, their hands never leaving their guns, their eyes filled with vigilance and unease.
On a high platform at the deepest part of the workshop, a black-clad prison guard sat askew in a dilapidated armchair.
He was slumped in the chair, his head tilted to one side, rising and falling slightly with his even breathing, clearly fast asleep.
The pistol hung loosely on his belt, threatening to slip off at any moment.
"Only one official prison guard?" Evelyn frowned. "There are hundreds of prisoners here..."
"They call it training us!" Vassim sneered.
Lin Feng remained silent.
His gaze fell on the prison guard on the platform, then shifted away.
The warden's pact with the witch... a sacrifice of a trainee guard... the so-called "training" was nothing more than a meticulously designed selection process—
Those who are lucky enough or strong enough are selected, and the rest are left to "accidents" and "cleaners".
Just then, a short scream came from the northwest corner of the workshop.
All eyes immediately turned to that direction.
It was a secluded corner where piles of unfinished fabrics were stacked.
At workstation D-17 sat a prisoner—number 392.
392's appearance is extremely strange:
His neck was longer than normal, like that of some kind of waterfowl, with prominent ridges protruding from under his skin at the cervical vertebrae.
Its fingers were unusually slender, each over 15 centimeters long, and its knuckles could bend in the opposite direction, operating the sewing machine at an eerie speed.
At this moment, the skin on his face was turning from gray to dark blue at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Blue Eclipse!" someone shouted.
As soon as he finished speaking, 392 raised his head. His eyes were completely black, and his mouth stretched to his ears, revealing a set of fine, shark-like triangular teeth.
He saw a female intern prison guard walking by.
Marika, the chosen one of the White Elephant Kingdom.
That woman who had previously arrogantly demanded to buy Lin Feng's rule-based information.
The moment 392's gaze locked onto her, Marika froze.
It was an extreme, instinctive fear of being targeted by a predator, which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end instantly.
She retreated almost instinctively, but her heel tripped on a roll of fabric that had rolled down, causing her to stagger—
392 has made his move.
His slender left hand gripped Marika's wrist like an iron clamp, while his right hand simultaneously choked her throat with such force that it almost crushed her throat bones.
Marika struggled in terror, dropping her pistol to the ground.
392's throat began to roll violently up and down, making a sticky "gurgling" sound like boiling water.
"Help...uh!" Marika's cry for help was cut off in her throat, leaving only broken breaths.
The next second, 392's mouth, which stretched all the way to his ears, suddenly opened wide.
A thick, blue acidic mist, carrying a pungent, corrosive stench, gushed from his throat and landed squarely on Marika's face.
"laugh--!"
Like hot oil poured on ice, white smoke instantly rose from Marika's face.
Skin, muscles, and eyeballs rapidly dissolved and ulcerated in the blue mist.
Her screams turned into a drowning "hoarse" sound, and her entire face melted into a blurry mass of flesh and blood within five seconds, revealing a stark white skull.
392 tossed Marika's still slightly twitching body to the ground like a discarded rag doll.
He then bent down, and his slender, blade-like hand pierced Marika's chest cavity without any resistance, with a muffled "plop," precisely pulling out a still-beating heart.
392 stuffed it directly into his open mouth and chewed it excitedly, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.
The interns closest to the scene were completely stunned. Some of them covered their mouths tightly, making suppressed gagging sounds.
Some people's legs went weak, and they almost collapsed. Their pupils dilated and unfocused due to extreme fear.
The stench of blood and decay that filled the air, mixed with the monotonous roar of the sewing machine, created the most cruel symphony of death.
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Studio:
"Holy crap, this scene is so disgusting! I threw up everything I just ate!"
"Wasn't Marika pretty arrogant before? Her rich kid aura is completely useless in the face of the supernatural."
"Still standing there taking funeral photos?! Run! Are you waiting to be the next one to tear your heart out?!"
"Is that official prison guard on the platform just for show?!"
"The psychological trauma experienced by the trainee prison guards is beyond calculation; who can withstand this?!"
"Am I the only one who noticed 392's expression while eating the heart? He was fucking enjoying it! This is a hundred times more horrifying than just murder!"
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"Report! Blue Eclipse Mutation!"
On the high platform, the dozing prison guard finally woke up.
He jumped up, frantically pulling out his walkie-talkie, his voice trembling with fear:
"Workshop D! Blue erosion has occurred! Requesting backup! Requesting—"
He noticed another anomaly.
Southeast corner, workstation D-44.
Prisoner number 711 stood up.
711 was a hunchback with a huge fleshy growth on his back, the surface of which was covered with black lines like sutures.
At this moment, his entire skin had turned a dark blue, and the tumor was throbbing violently, as if something was about to burst out of his body.
711's goal was clear—the only exit gate of the workshop.