Chapter 492: Do You Want Another Hit?
Chapter 492: Do You Want Another Hit?
The explosion instantly engulfed dozens of surrounding houses. These were two-story courtyard apartments, covering no small area combined.
Massive flames shot upward wrapped in thick smoke, forming a fleeting mushroom cloud.
The shockwave scattered dust into the air, blurring the surroundings.
When the blast faded, debris raining from the sky began clattering down.
From a collapsed house, half a broken wall shifted as a black giant emerged from rubble.
His form shrank rapidly into Jack’s human shape – unharmed but completely naked.
Crash—
Erica crawled out through falling bricks.
She fared worse, covered in scrapes with only pixelation preserving modesty.
Jack turned away in disgust at her nudity, then spotted the magician emerging elsewhere.
The magician’s clothes were torn but still covered more than the two exposed companions.
“Where’s the spider?”
“I’m here! Here!”
Three heads turned toward wiggling hairy legs – Little Spider stood upside-down in debris.
“Let me help!”
Jack bounded over eagerly.
“Thanks Jack, you’re so kind…Hey! Hands to yourself…Yowch!”
Little Spider’s yelp carried suggestive undertones.
After brief “inspection”, Jack hauled him out. Had others not been present, Jack might’ve taught Spider about backdoor vulnerabilities.
The four survivors surveyed the devastation wordlessly.
“Government’s new space aircraft?” Jack muttered. “Since when does Grim Reaper yank those from orbit?”
The solar-powered warship lacked nuclear reactors – small mercy, given the blast radius.
Cold relief washed through them. Fang Cheng’s distance during the crash had saved their lives.
A figure descended abruptly before them.
Erica glared upward at the newcomer she loathed.
Ye Yuqing floated with armor-clad limbs, long hair whipping around eyes blazing black fire.
“Did you see my boyfriend?”
Ye Yuqing asked the four in English taught by Asaka Akihime, completely ignoring Erica.
Little Spider raised both middle fingers and tilted them toward the explosion’s direction.
“Right there, beauty. Can I get your phone number…”
Ye Yuqing had already left them, flying toward the explosion’s center where flames still raged.
Erica glared at Ye Yuqing’s retreating figure and sneered, “That guy’s dead for sure.”
She couldn’t wait to see Ye Yuqing sobbing in despair.
“Hey, don’t jump to conclusions without finding a corpse,”
Little Spider cut in, still fixated on their earlier bet.
Erica bristled at his objection and began arguing with him.
Jack suggested, “Why don’t we check it out?”
Three middle fingers immediately shot up in reply.
“The Grim Reaper’s second wave hasn’t hit yet. You wanna die?”
…
A massive pit marked the explosion’s epicenter, aircraft debris scattered around.
Fang Cheng climbed out of the pit’s depths, using blood creation to form clothes.
Taking a direct hit from the space aircraft hadn’t left him unharmed, but he’d survived.
His War God Bloodline and Vector Control had neutralized most harm—what remained wasn’t lethal.
With the first wave over, surviving the second would complete the invitation letter’s mission.
Fang Cheng moved to leave for an open park to wait out the timeline.
Ahead, flames in the ruins suddenly whitened, coalescing into a spectral figure.
The apparition sharpened—long black cloak, skull mask, massive scythe gripped tight.
Fang Cheng’s face hardened.
The iconic look, the Scythe of Kronos in hand—the Grim Reaper!
White flames engulfed its lower body as it wielded the “Reaper” scythe.
The mask’s gaze pinned Fang Cheng.
An oppressive aura radiated outward, bleaching nearby flames and chilling the air.
Fang Cheng stared back, face blank but mind reeling.
What now?
Was the Grim Reaper himself the final assault?
Weren’t attacks supposed to cap at ace-level? This thing screamed danger beyond that.
Or is it that this guy couldn’t handle losing and decided to take action himself?
The Grim Reaper’s shadow grew increasingly distinct, as if about to cross some boundary between illusion and reality.
Fang Cheng’s heart pounded with tension. He knew he couldn’t just wait – he needed to disrupt whatever ritual was happening.
“Ah Cheng!”
Ye Yuqing landed beside him, her descent through the air swift.
The moment she saw the Grim Reaper’s silhouette, violent shivering wracked her body, goosebumps erupting across her skin.
The death god’s usual cartoonish appearance felt utterly different when actually confronted – pure terror made flesh.
It felt like seeing Death himself leaning against hell’s gate, calling “Hey big guy, come on in!”
Instead of sending her away, Fang Cheng muttered: “Call the backup.”
“What backup?”
“Your patron.”
Ye Yuqing immediately raised her arms skyward. Black flames erupted beneath her feet, swallowing her whole.
When the inferno reshaped into a blazing cloak, there stood Tsukimi Narumi – silver armor gleaming, Giant Sword in hand.
Her presence instantly countered the Grim Reaper’s chilling aura.
Two divine gazes locked in silent confrontation.
The surrounding white flames darkened as the gods stared each other down, oppressive atmosphere thickening. Black and white fires twisted together, making the temperature swing wildly.
Fang Cheng watched the Grim Reaper’s shadow gradually fade until it disappeared completely. The remaining white flames got devoured by darkness.
With Death’s presence gone, Fang Cheng relaxed. Fighting here would’ve meant getting “invited for talks” by the North American government tomorrow – win or lose.
Tsukimi Narumi turned to him. “Why provoke something this dangerous?”
This had merely been a projection. Had Death truly manifested, even she – a minor deity from Area 11’s forgotten faith – couldn’t have opposed the Western world’s most pervasive legend.
“That invitation letter I received…” Fang Cheng frowned. “Must’ve been rigged.”
Bald director Tony. Victor. Julia. The external personnel.
Suspicions swirled through his mind. Detective work wasn’t his strength, but last night’s warning played on repeat – Victor specifically coming to remind him about a mole. Now that was interesting.
Tsukimi Narumi didn’t give Fang Cheng any hints. “Take care of yourself. I can’t show up often in North America.”
Without waiting for his reply, she vanished.
Ye Yuqing regained control of her body and blinked. “That’s it?”
Fang Cheng shrugged. “Did you want another beating?”
Ye Yuqing flushed red, misinterpreting his words, and slapped his arm. “Jerk!”
A god’s projected power in this world had limits unless their true form descended.
Even if the Grim Reaper had manifested fully, it likely couldn’t defeat Fang Cheng and Tsukimi Narumi. Retreating made sense.
With that crisis resolved, the pair walked away from the explosion’s epicenter. The four troublemakers had already fled, terrified by the deities’ presence.
Fang Cheng retrieved his phone from the shadow where he stored important items—a habit born of hard-earned experience. The device rang immediately.
“Thank God you’re alive!” Victor’s relieved voice crackled through. “You survived today’s first attack, then?”
“Wrong.” Fang Cheng corrected. “Two attacks. The Reaper’s done with me.”
After a stunned pause, Victor murmured, “You never cease to amaze.” He’d expected certain death, yet here they were talking.
“Know what the Reaper’s final strike was?” Fang Cheng teased.
“What?”
“Guess.”
“Dammit! Need me to find you new housing?” Victor grumbled, mourning his bombed property but determined to curry favor.
“We’ll handle it.” Fang Cheng declined, distrust lingering.
“Rest up,” Victor said. “Director Tony’s regrouping survivors tomorrow.”
As the call ended, Ye Yuqing frowned. “Think that schemer set us up?”
“Who knows?” Fang Cheng pocketed the phone calmly. “But schemers always slip up. We’ll see.”
The two quickly left the explosion site. The crashed space aircraft was a major incident, and the North American government would soon seal off the area.
They settled in a random hotel for the night, and the Evil Spirit Doll didn’t reappear.
This left Ye Yuqing disappointed—she’d wanted to gather some evil spirits for gaming sessions.
At dawn, Fang Cheng’s phone buzzed with a message from the bald director.
The text invited all survivors to attend a meeting that evening at an unspecified location.
Following Gates of Heaven protocol, those passing the invitation letter’s test would receive further instructions.
Holding meetings at the safety agency would’ve obviously revealed their mole intentions to the Gates of Heaven.
The uneventful day passed without Grim Reaper or doll disturbances, leaving both oddly bored.
At nightfall, Fang Cheng casually booked an Uber.
When they exited the hotel, their waiting driver paled and instinctively floored the accelerator.
Why did these two keep appearing despite him switching to Uber?
Fang Cheng grabbed the taxi door. “Thought your idol was a superhero?”
The driver groaned, “I’ve switched to liking super criminals now.”
“What luck,” Fang Cheng grinned. “I am one. Drive us.”
Too terrified to refuse, the driver let them in while frantically hanging crosses, Buddhist beads, garlic charms, and talismans around his seat—even Fang Cheng marveled at how many items he produced from beneath him.
Fortunately, the doll didn’t follow this time, sparing the driver’s sanity.
…
The bald director’s chosen meeting place was a suburban villa. Arriving to blazing lights, Fang Cheng and Ye Yuqing entered to find twelve people in the living room—the four who’d spied on Fang Cheng earlier, including the vampire who’d disciplined Little Spider, plus other external personnel who’d received invitations.
From thirty-four to twelve—twenty-two deaths in seven days proved brutal efficiency.
All eyes tracked Fang Cheng’s entrance, even the proud vampire’s. Surviving the Grim Reaper required both skill and luck.
Yet none approached—the outsiders’ previous clashes with Erica and Jack marked them as difficult.
After ten minutes, bald director Tony entered with Victor and Julia in tow. His gaze lingered on Fang Cheng—this rookie’s unexpected survival demanded attention.
“Everyone!”
The director stood beneath the lights, his gleaming scalp bulb-bright.
“Place your invitation letters on the table.”
Twelve letters appeared on the cleared surface.
“Twenty hours post-test, your letters will reveal hidden coordinates. Gates of Heaven agents will escort you from there to the base.”
He checked his watch—minutes remained. Silence held until 8 PM sharp.
Blank letters stared back.
The director frowned. Darkness swallowed the villa as lights died.
Shouts erupted. Furniture crashed. Walls and floors shuddered like earthquake tremors.
A scream tore through the blackness.