The world has turned into Hell's Game, why should I stay human?
Chapter 595 - 443 Bombing Metropolis_2

Chapter 595: Chapter 443 Bombing Metropolis_2

The massive soundwave was about to diffuse in all directions but was instead completely absorbed by the air raid alarm.

"Vajra Finger!"

The old monk, sensing imminent danger, clenched his fist and thrust his thumb out between his index and middle fingers, driving it down fiercely.

Simultaneously, the phantom of the Buddha’s hand mimicked his motion, forming a fist and pointing directly at Liu Zheng.

Even before the Vajra Finger made contact, the residual force it emitted was already causing Liu Zheng’s entire skeletal structure to creak loudly under the pressure.

If it hit directly, there was no doubt he’d be reduced to a pile of shattered flesh and bone powder.

Luckily, Liu Zheng responded even faster, tossing the air raid alarm aside before ducking back into the tank.

The Vajra Finger struck the descending hatch cover with a thunderous collision. The tank was slightly lifted by the counterforce before crashing back down, leaving dents and cracks in the ground beneath it.

The wax-coated surface of the hatch cover now bore a shallow, finger-sized dent matching the thickness of the Buddha’s finger.

"That monk does have some skill. If this were one of the Little Kittens, the armor might’ve been pierced,"

the driver remarked.

"And now? What about now?"

"Now? Now even if he snaps his own finger, he won’t so much as scratch the Hound’s outer shell,"

the driver said confidently.

In order to avoid losing face in front of his old rival, he had spared no expense in this tank’s modifications. The small fund Liu Zheng had provided barely covered the material costs.

Fortunately, the wax-coated shells were reusable, so he could pass it off as merely testing new upgrade projects—no harm done.

As they conversed, the air raid alarm Liu Zheng had thrown into the air had already been activated.

"Name: Hand-Crank Air Raid Alarm"

"Type: Equipment"

"Quality: Exquisite"

"Effect One: Emits a large-scale soundwave attack upon use."

"Effect Two: Can be paired with other sound-based items or skills. When maximum power is reached, it summons a large-scale airstrike. Upon triggering this effect, the item will automatically be destroyed."

"Remark: If your street doesn’t have any sirens but you activate one, congratulations—you’ve just marked yourself as an airstrike target."

"Can it be taken out of the instance: No"

Having absorbed the massive soundwave energy generated by the Frog Fish King’s vocal sac, the air raid alarm unhesitatingly triggered Effect Two.

Its crank handle spun rapidly, like the starter lever of a tractor, while a piercing siren echoed across the skies.

A bomber, painted in yellow-green with a streamlined fuselage, elliptical wings, and tail fins, emerged from the clouds.

Its wings and fuselage bore white-and-black cross insignias, and its tail fin displayed a counterclockwise-swiveled 45° "卐" symbol.

"Ah, it’s our Vulture,"

the driver exclaimed in surprise.

"This is your airplane?"

Liu Zheng asked.

"Correct. This is the He111 medium bomber, though we prefer to call it the ’Vulture.’ Its power and firepower are outstanding, making it as reliable among bombers as my Little Kitten is among heavy tanks,"

the driver explained.

He hadn’t anticipated that the first bomber summoned by the Red Ghost’s air raid alarm would turn out to be their "Vulture."

"Looks like those gray brutes still remember the terror of being dominated by our iron birds,"

the driver said smugly.

Liu Zheng shot him a glance and politely refrained from pointing out the truth.

To be honest, he suspected that, given the Red Ghost’s personality, this air raid alarm was likely a trophy confiscated from someone else.

"Rat-tat-tat..."

The bomber’s machine cannons spewed brilliant tongues of flame, raining down bullets nearly as thick as wrists.

The direction of the barrage was almost entirely aimed at the monks below.

This wasn’t due to any affinity with the Hound tank; rather, attacking exposed, unarmored, cybernetic bodies offered far greater returns than wasting ammunition on heavily armored tanks.

Although the bombardment wasn’t particularly sudden, the cyber monks showed no intention of evading.

They hadn’t been stunned in fear or overconfident—they had simply channeled all their mana to the old monk, rendering them unable to react physically.

"Daluo Robe!"

The old monk, sensing danger, hastily removed his kasaya and threw it toward the crowd of monks.

The brown kasaya expanded tens of times its original size, transforming into a protective robe to shield the monks from the incoming bullets.

The high-powered rounds riddled the robe like raindrops hitting a muddy puddle, creating densely packed craters.

Yet, under the reinforcement of mana, the robe showed no signs of penetration.

However, despite perfectly deflecting this wave, the old monk’s expression remained taut and solemn.

Though he had never seen bombers before, years of experience in magical battles told him there were undoubtedly more attacks to come.

He swept his gaze over the immobile monks and calculated swiftly.

Should he return their mana to allow them to regain mobility?

Or should he continue consolidating their collective mana within himself, ensuring his strength reached a level near its peak prior to death?

After a moment of hesitation, the old monk made his decision.

Though the lives of the monks were precious and the mission critical, what he valued most was his chosen successor—the Great Monk.

First, he’d attempt to complete the mission. If failure seemed inevitable, he would flee with the Great Monk.

As the old saying goes, "Where there’s a monk, there’s no fear of scriptures left unread."

"Fiery Flame Saber!"

The old monk pressed his fingers together, forming a palm, and slashed upward toward the sky.

A streak of fiery sword energy trailed a blazing trajectory as it sliced toward the He111 medium bomber.

"BOOM!"

The He111 bomber tried to ascend to evade the slash, but its climbing speed was no match for the massless fiery blade—and was sliced cleanly in half.

Nevertheless, faithful to its mission, the bomber accomplished its task before its destruction.

"Whistle... whistle..."

Eight aerial bombs dropped simultaneously from its bomb bay, this time targeting the Hound tank rather than the monks.

"Daluo Robe!"

The old monk once again cast his spell, but this time he compressed the robe, wrapping it tightly around himself.

"Arhat Golden Body!"

The old monk formed a handseal with one hand while mimicking the ear-cleaning posture of the eighteen arhats’ Naga Skin Na—the Ear-Digging Arhat—with the other.

Artificial pores secreted golden liquid, which solidified to coat him in a protective layer of gold.

"Amitabha,"

the monk muttered, somewhat relieved after finishing his dual defensive preparations.

The Daluo Robe and Arhat Golden Body represented his strongest defensive techniques; stacked together, they should ensure his survival.

As for the Great Monk, he was protected by Ksitigarbha’s Thousand-leaf Green Lotus and had nothing to worry about.

Concerning Zhi Kong, Zhi Wu, and the other monks—the Buddha’s blessings would have to suffice for their survival.

"BOOM!"

"BOOM!"

"BOOM!"

...

Fire blasts and endless explosions; more bombers of various models emerged in the skies.

Il-4 bombers, Lancaster bombers, B-17 bombers, B-24 bombers, Manchester bombers...

One by one, these stylistically distinct bombers burst from the clouds, unleashed their payloads, and vanished back into the misty skies.

The increasingly ferocious explosions roared louder, with flaming tongues nearly licking the crimson moon hanging high above.

The Hound, as the primary target, was repeatedly thrown into the air and slammed back to the ground by shockwaves, spinning incessantly like a top.

Liu Zheng and his companions clung to anything they could grasp within the tank to steady themselves against the chaotic turbulence.

Thankfully, their non-human physiques allowed them to endure the jerking motion. Ordinary beings wouldn’t have lasted long without ending up battered and bloodied.

It wasn’t clear how much time had passed before the bombers ceased emerging from the clouds and the barrage faded into near silence.

"It’s over,"

the driver floated out of the cabin and flipped the tank back onto its tracks.

"Colonel, what’s the situation out there?"

Liu Zheng asked.

Under such overwhelming bombardment, it was miraculous the tank hadn’t been obliterated. The periscope lenses, however, hadn’t survived, leaving him blind to the outside situation.

"Everyone’s dead except one monk,"

the driver surveyed the battlefield before responding.

The monks, immobilized and without mana, were naturally reduced to indistinguishable remains amidst the shattered earth.

And the old monk, who had thought his double-layered defense would ensure his survival, had been reduced to golden debris.

"Who’s still alive?"

Liu Zheng asked.

"That one who looks like—"