PS: I’m COVID positive today, incubation period of three days, 38.9°, sore waist, headache, I can’t hold it together, feeling terrible, I’m going to sleep.
Morning!
The air after the apocalypse is much fresher than imagined.
This change is quite obvious.
It has a lot to do with the shutdown of various factories and the absence of car exhaust emissions.
During this period, the blue sky and white clouds are as beautiful as an Immortal Realm.
At this mont.
Several figures are sprinting wildly in the desolate desert, each agile and fast, kicking up flying yellow sand, and if not looked at carefully, you’d think it was a vehicle driving.
Soon, they halt and stand atop a sand dune, gazing at the small city ahead.
It’s a very small city with a pitifully small population, only about ten thousand even in peaceti; who would want to live in such a harsh environnt?
For such an insignificant city to give birth to a Creator, it is indeed sowhat unexpected.
"There’s a terrifying creature slumbering here."
Cui Xiaofei’s expression was solemn, his gaze locked on the dust-covered city, which seed ordinary but contained imnse terror.
If it were possible to choose.
He definitely wouldn’t want to et the Creator now.
Even if it’s a weak Creator, it’s the sa.
"I ca to this place before, damn it, it was a trap, the agency tricked into coming, saying I’d earn over ten thousand a month, settlents daily, three fifty a day, I was so damn unlucky, turns out they’d take a hundred and fifty cut, leaving with two hundred, don’t you think these people deserve death?"
"Haha, a really tough working life, I’ve never experienced that, I was a rich second-generation before."
"Rich second-generation or struggling worker, now it’s the apocalypse, there’s nothing, only damn strength is real."
"Damn, if I could go back, I’d still want the old life, living it up in luxury, days like a god, now life is so damn tough."
Chatting casually.
Waiting for the firepower coverage.
Not an ounce of tension about eting the Creator.
The sound of a plane soaring ca.
They looked up, and not far away, a plane approached rapidly.
"What kind of plane is this?"
"I don’t know, I’m not a military enthusiast, must have been obtained by the organization from an air force base."
"Why only one? Wouldn’t it be better to get a few and thoroughly clear the site?"
"Do you think just anyone can pilot a fighter jet? It’s already good the organization found one."
Indeed, training a pilot capable of flying a fighter jet is imnsely costly.
Especially in an apocalyptic environnt like this.
With humanity almost wiped out, how many could fly a fighter jet?
Rumble!
Rumble!
As the firepower covered, the small city ahead erupted instantly, flas soared skyward, engulfing the buildings in an instant.
The power of the weapons was rather fierce.
Most zombies couldn’t withstand such firepower.
Except for so higher-grade zombies, who else could?
"Roar!"
"Roar!"
Just then, from the city covered in artillery fire ca a fierce, violent roar.
The sound was very loud.
Reaching their ears like thunderous claps.
If there were birds in this city, in this rumbling sound, they would certainly take flight, creating an extraordinarily heart-stirring image.
Rumble!
Rumble!
From afar, the dilapidated structures in the city were collapsing, turning into ruins.
The terrifying firepower had awakened the Creator, and in the distance, thick tentacles swung, each swing making a dull thud in the air.
"Haha, that guy is agitated, ready to unleash tentacles anyti?"
A Mutant was already impatient to engage with the Creator, just to prove his strength and let the Creator taste his ferocity.
"Hold on, let the fighter jet cover with firepower once more, having lured the Creator out, we can’t waste it," laughed the man with glasses from the organization.
The fighter jet, already flying away, upon knowing the Creator appeared, turned its nose to continue the attack.
"Haha, let human missiles have a nice little play with you, the feeling of being surrounded by flas must be quite pleasurable."
The man with glasses in the organization would not engage the Creator.
He’s what they call a spectator.
And just then.
An abrupt change happened.
The Creator, driven mad with rage by the firepower coverage, unleashed a heart-clenching scream, its long thick tentacles swinging in the air, spikes on the surface surprisingly detached and shot out.
"Not good, sothing’s going to happen."
Cui Xiaofei knew things were bad the mont he saw this, the speed of those flying spikes was terrifyingly fast, the penetration power absolutely horrifying, even if the fighter jet’s body is made of special materials, it definitely can’t withstand it.
Sure enough.
The body spewed black smoke, flas appeared.
The panicked pilot urgently ejected, with a bang, bouncing up, and the fighter jet trailed a thick black smoke, crashing towards the distant ground.
The parachuting pilot took a deep breath, feeling genuinely safe.
"Watch out."
Suddenly, a shout ca to his ears.
The pilot looked back, eyes opened wide, unable to restrain his terrified expression, erupting fully.
"Shit..."
The classic national expletive.
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