Watching the increasing number of “ants” on the square begin to caress the ground, Yan Zhichun only felt a chill run down her spine.
They hadn’t lost all their senses—they still had touch and reason.
Now, it seemed all the “ants” were trying to figure out what was happening. It was already past the time they were supposed to leave for work, yet no one had opened the door for them. So, they could only feel their surroundings by touching the ground.
Yan Zhichun realized that even if a corpse fell on these “ants,” they would likely assume another “ant” had accidentally brushed against them. Perhaps the “ants” had an unspoken rule to avoid such contact, which was why they scattered across the square, keeping their distance to prevent panic.
Seizing the moment when the Sky Bull disappeared, Yan Zhichun followed the eerie strand of hair’s guidance and quickly approached one of the “ants,” crouching beside it.
At a glance, Yan Zhichun couldn’t tell any difference between this “ant” and the others. They all had snow-white skin, no facial features, and no hair. This one was also crouched on the ground, hands spread at an odd angle, feeling the surface.
Without hesitation, Yan Zhichun stepped forward and tapped it.
The “ant” visibly startled, turning its hollowed-out eyes toward her. It seemed confused—and so was Yan Zhichun.
She had no idea how to communicate with this thing.
The “ant” immediately stopped touching the ground and stretched its grimy hands toward Yan Zhichun.
Though her hair stood on end, she didn’t retreat. But soon, she noticed its hands were aiming straight for her eyes. With no way to dodge, she had no choice but to grab its wrists.
The moment she did, Yan Zhichun felt as though she had gripped two icicles. The “ant,” in turn, shuddered slightly, as if burned.
For a few seconds, they froze. Then, the “ant” swiftly twisted its hands, exerting tremendous force to pull Yan Zhichun’s palm toward itself. With its fractured arm guiding its wrist, it shakily wrote a single word on her palm:
**”Who?”**
Yan Zhichun knew the “ants” had reason, but she hadn’t expected their minds to be so sharp—they could even write. This meant communication was possible.
But the question wasn’t easy to answer. If she wrote “Yan Zhichun” or “Extremists,” she’d have to explain far too much.
After a moment of thought, she wrote four words on the “ant’s” palm:
**”Sky Bull killer.”**
The “ant” cupped its palm, feeling the words. Though it couldn’t show any expression, Yan Zhichun sensed its confusion.
Black Sheep narrowed his eyes from a distance, watching as Yan Zhichun began communicating with the “ant.” Quickly reassessing his strategy, he called out into the void:
**”Since you won’t strike, why not come out and talk? You’re ‘concealed,’ not ‘mute,’ right?”**
His booming voice echoed across the square, heard by everyone—except the “ants.”
**”Speaking reveals your position. You think you can’t beat me, huh?”** Black Sheep continued. **”When ‘concealment’ fails, the other two ‘immortal techniques’ won’t help you either. I’m a little worried for you.”**
Though his words were bold, his eyes remained sharp, scanning for the slightest disturbance in the air around him. A sudden breeze would mean the Sky Bull was making its move.
**”I’m worried a mighty Sky Bull might lose to a mere Earth Sheep here,”** Black Sheep taunted coldly. **”Honestly… even an Earth Bull seems harder to kill than you. Are you really fit for this position?”**
The moment he finished speaking, Black Sheep felt a gust of wind rush from his left. Instinctively, he raised his arms to block, positioning them protectively over his chest—he was getting used to the Sky Bull’s attacks. But something was off this time. The force was far stronger.
**”Damn… it’s a ‘kick’—”**
This time, the Sky Bull didn’t throw a punch. Instead, it swept its leg toward Black Sheep’s ribs. By the time he realized, it was too late to defend. Fighting an invisible opponent left him relying on sheer luck beyond a sliver of instinct.
A brutal impact struck his ribs. Black Sheep coughed, tasting blood in his mouth—his organs might have been ruptured.
Yet, astonishingly, he hadn’t moved an inch.
His left arm was bent downward, as if clutching something.
**”Ha…”** Blood dripped from his lips, but an uncharacteristic smile spread across his face. **”Finally got you…”**
With that, he tightened his grip on the unseen leg and kicked hard toward where he guessed the Sky Bull’s other knee would be.
But just before impact, he felt the Sky Bull abruptly lift into the air, yanking him off balance as he was dragged upward.
Before he could orient himself, the air before him shattered—a fist slammed into his nose. Yet Black Sheep refused to let go.
Unable to fully restrain the Sky Bull’s movements, he shifted tactics instantly, throwing a punch toward the invisible body.
**Thud!**
A dull impact. Black Sheep frowned.
That punch had landed cleanly.
A faint grunt reached his ears, confirming his suspicion.
Even though he had one of the Sky Bull’s legs trapped, the opponent still had three limbs free—and could dodge midair. So why had that punch connected?
Another rush of air split before him, this time aimed at his neck. Black Sheep jerked back, but his chin still took the hit. Without hesitation, he struck again—another solid impact.
**”It works.”** Ignoring his injuries, Black Sheep launched a flurry of attacks.
The Sky Bull, realizing it couldn’t afford to linger, twisted violently, spinning through the air. The mounting injuries made it impossible for Black Sheep to maintain his hold, and soon he was flung down, crashing onto the ground.
He hit the floor hard but rolled to his feet instantly, wiping blood from his face.
Those last two punches had been bizarre…
Every time he was hit, his counterattacks had landed perfectly.
Which meant…
**”The Sky Bull only has one usable arm…?”**
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