363: Chapter 363 I Don't Want to Die

There was no escape; it was now a fight to the death, like a cornered beast.

It stood on the sandy ground. Its four thrusters had completely flamed out, and overheat warning lights flashed frantically inside its body, but it didn't look back at the dense cluster of muzzles behind it. It stared ahead—at Golden Bone, Lu Jianchuan, Shen Mingyuan, the motorcycle, and that snake. Fifty meters. Thirty meters. Twenty meters.

It moved.

It wasn't running; it was pouncing. All four limbs exerted force simultaneously, its entire body launching like a shell from a cannon, charging straight at the trio. Its direction wasn't scattered; it was focused—aimed at Lu Jianchuan in the lead.

A cornered beast still fights. It knew it couldn't escape, so it would give its all.

Lu Jianchuan kicked off the ground, his silver-white figure meeting it head-on. Golden Bone didn't contest the front; he flanked to the side, the hydraulic joints of his Mechanical Exoskeleton emitting a low hiss as he moved with extreme speed—he knew Lu Jianchuan could hold the front now, so he was responsible for the pincer maneuver from the flank.

The distance between the two closed to zero in an instant.

A greyish-white claw swiped at him. Lu Jianchuan raised his left arm in a frontal block. The ear-piercing sound of metal clashing rang through the night sky. The claws left four deep gouges on the silver-white armguards, but they didn't break through his defense. Simultaneously, Lu Jianchuan clenched his right fist, silver-white Bioelectricity condensing frantically upon it with a piercing crackle.

One punch.

That punch slammed into the opponent's chest, sending a ripple of electricity exploding across the greyish-white exoskeleton. The figure stumbled back half a step but immediately steadied itself, its other claw sweeping across. Lu Jianchuan sidestepped to avoid it and threw another punch with his right hand.

Two punches. Three punches. Four punches.

Electricity was released with every impact, leaving charred marks on the opponent's exoskeleton. The figure was retreating, but its counterattacks grew more frantic—clawing, tearing, biting, every move a desperate gamble. It was too hungry, so hungry it no longer cared for defense, only wanting to tear open the silver-white figure before it and pull out the warm flesh and blood inside.

But as the fight went on, it suddenly felt pain.

It wasn't the kind of pain from being hit by a fist, but a burning pain that seared from the outside in. It looked down—on its greyish-white chest exoskeleton, the places where the fists had landed were undergoing a change.

They were melting.

Or rather, semi-melting.

Those special structures, fused with spacesuit materials, were becoming soft and viscous under the influence of the ultra-high temperature electricity attached to Lu Jianchuan's fists. They began to flow like heated metal. They didn't turn completely into liquid—that state wouldn't adhere—but instead became a semi-solid, glowing substance similar to a steel billet.

Then, those semi-molten substances began to move.

Following the direction of the fists and the path of the electricity, they peeled away from it bit by bit, adhering to Lu Jianchuan's silver armor. They fell onto his armguards, his fists, and his shoulders, cooling and solidifying rapidly, yet maintaining a semi-molten state due to the continuous high heat, like a layer of flowing, glowing metal raiment.

The more it fought, the more of its body fell away.

The more it hurt, the thicker Lu Jianchuan's armor became.

Lu Jianchuan also felt the change. The adhering substances didn't hinder his movements; instead, they provided extra weight and impact with every punch. Moreover—he suddenly realized something.

His heart rate hadn't accelerated.

Previously, during every full-strength battle, the concentration of evo factor in his body would skyrocket, and his heart would beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of his chest; that sense of pressure on the verge of his limit was always present. But now, after fighting for so long, with electricity constantly discharging and semi-molten material constantly adhering, his heart rate remained steady.

No discomfort. No feeling of being at his limit. It was just like an ordinary battle.

Did The Forger solve this problem during the upgrade? The thought flashed through Lu Jianchuan's mind. He had no time to dwell on it, because the greyish-white figure pounced again, its claws aimed straight for his face—

He raised his hand to block and threw another right hook, slamming it solidly into the opponent's shoulder.

Another glob of semi-molten substance peeled off that body and adhered to his fist.

The figure retreated two steps, staggering to a halt. It looked up, and the eyes behind the transparent visor—Chen Yuan's eyes—stared at Lu Jianchuan, filled with confusion. It didn't know why it felt pain, why things were draining from its body, or why the silver-white guy in front of it was getting thicker with every hit.

But it pounced again anyway.

A cornered beast's final struggle.

By then, as Golden Bone circled from the side, a coil of something had appeared in his hand—not an ordinary rope, but an alloy fiber cable specifically designed for restraining high-risk individuals. Its surface was coated with an insulating layer, capable of releasing a strong current to paralyze the target the moment it tightened.

He raised his hand, and the coil of rope flew out, spinning with the assistance of the Mechanical Exoskeleton like a living snake, accurately wrapping around the greyish-white figure's feet.

It noticed.

Though the thrusters on its back had flamed out from overload, it still had its limbs. It kicked off the ground, its entire body leaping into the air to avoid the incoming rope—

Lu Jianchuan's hand had already seized its shoulder.

His ten fingers dug into the layer of semi-molten exoskeleton like iron pincers, pressing down with force. It had barely leaped half a meter before being slammed back to the ground by that massive strength.

The moment its feet hit the ground, the alloy fiber rope coiled around it—one loop, two loops, three loops—winding from its ankles to its calves. Electricity discharged, and blue arcs of lightning danced frantically along the rope.

Its body convulsed violently, and its four limbs lost all strength simultaneously.

Lu Jianchuan didn't let go. He released the shoulder with his right hand, clenched his fist—the silver-white electricity condensing on it so brightly it was blinding—and then slammed a punch into its head. Not a lethal spot, but the side, enough to daze it without causing irreversible damage.

With that punch, its entire body slumped to the side, but held by the rope, it didn't fall completely.

It struggled to lift its head, the eyes behind the transparent visor cloudy and unfocused, still trying to find their mark.

Then it saw it.

Shen Mingyuan's muzzle.

That black-and-red handgun was pressed against its forehead, the muzzle almost touching the transparent visor. Shen Mingyuan stood before it, his red eyepieces flickering slightly as the targeting line locked on.

It stopped struggling.

It recognized that gun. The black-and-red plasma bullet that had hit its thruster pack from behind earlier had come from this gun. Now the muzzle was pressed against its head; at this distance, there was no possibility of dodging. One bullet, and its head would explode.

It didn't want to die.

This thought surfaced from the depths of Chaos, overriding hunger, overriding the urging of the symbiont, and overriding all frantic instincts.

It wanted to go home.

It wanted to return to that sunlit balcony, to that group of grinning friends, to Earth, to step on solid ground and breathe the dust-scented air. It hadn't gone back yet. It couldn't die yet.

It gave up its struggle.

Its limbs went limp, drooping onto the sand. It lowered its head and moved no more.