149: Chapter 149 Nano possession, commando team slaughtered

After the dust settled, Rockefeller III, under the cover of several rows of armed guard shield formations, walked slowly with Samuel and several other leaders to the unrecognizable, bloody remains of Solomon.

Samuel looked down at the ground, at the heap of flesh and blood that could no longer be identified as having any human outline, and let out a soft huff: "Now, even alien technology can't save him."

Isabelle DuPont pulled her bulletproof cloak tight, watching the fragments scattered on the ground in silence.

Jacob tucked his hands back into the pockets of his coat, not saying much.

William Vanderbilt V placed the whiskey flask in his hand onto a surviving instrument box on the corridor wall beside him, staring just as silently at the mixture of substances on the ground that was still slowly oozing blood.

Rockefeller III looked down at the clump of flesh and blood, fell silent for a few seconds, and said in a calm tone: "Alien technology similar to bio-armor?"

"It's a pity, the Mothmen you rely on are too far from Earth to save you."

He immediately turned to the surrounding assault team members who were still counting casualties, "Everyone, split up immediately and search every compartment and archive in this underground base!"

"Fourth Prince Blade and Shield must be found immediately! I want to see him alive, or see his corpse!"

Those assault team members, who had just exhausted almost all their ammunition in the brutal war of attrition, immediately surged forward with renewed fervor upon receiving this order, quickly dispersing and flooding into every direction of the underground base.

Their shoulders, arms, and faces were still smeared with the shredded flesh of their companions that had been cut off by the Nano-Carapace just moments ago, but the excitement in their eyes was exactly the same as when they had rushed through the basement doors tens of minutes earlier.

Fourth Prince Blade and Shield was the final step for their great ascent! This realization remained completely unshaken in the minds of everyone still alive.

No one noticed the head in the corner. Solomon's head rested quietly in the corner, its incomplete compound eyes still half-embedded in the fractured eye sockets.

The moment everyone turned their backs to it and dispersed toward other compartments, that pair of compound eyes, which should have completely lost all bio-electric response, suddenly lit up with a faint, eerie dark red light.

Just as everyone believed that Solomon was dead, and those assault team members were excitedly dispersing in all directions to search for Fourth Prince Blade and Shield, Rockefeller III, Samuel, and the others had completely let down their guard, believing that the entire Crane Family had been uprooted by them.

In a certain compartment of the underground base, a scream suddenly rang out. It was an assault team member who had fallen to the very back of the group.

His hands suddenly clamped around his own throat, his fingernails digging into the skin of his neck. Blood flowed down between his fingers but did not drip onto the ground, because a large amount of black smoke was simultaneously erupting from his eye sockets, mouth, and the wounds torn open by his fingernails.

Like a living creature, those black mists surged out from his seven orifices, quickly wrapping around his entire body. Within a few seconds, they covered him completely, forming a humanoid black cocoon.

The back of the cocoon tore open violently, and two cicada-wing-thin, deep black wing membranes spread out to the sides. At the same instant, compound eyes opened. As the dark red light shone through that row of dense crystals, he spoke. The voice was no longer that of the original assault team member, but rather the hoarse, low, metallic-resonant sneer of Solomon Crane.

"Did you think you could kill me with a few shells and a pile of armor-piercing rounds?"

"A bunch of bugs, daydreaming!"

As the words fell, his entire body transformed into a black afterimage, crashing into the densest part of the crowd.

The carapace blades extending from the ends of his arms carved an arc through the air, and three heads flew off their owners' necks simultaneously.

As blood sprayed into mid-air from the severed necks, the black shadow had already flashed to the other side of the compartment.

Before the people around could even raise their guns, they were sliced clean through at the waist by the continuously swinging blades.

Severed limbs flew everywhere, and fragments of viscera splattered the cabin walls and the floor. In just a few short seconds, over a dozen people had turned into unrecognizable flesh and blood on the ground.

Gunfire erupted simultaneously from every direction.

The assault team members, who had been dispersed in all directions, quickly converged into a tactical formation. A dense net of firepower suppressed the body possessed by Solomon into the corner of the compartment, with large-caliber armor-piercing rounds repeatedly bombarding his torso and limbs.

Black carapace fragments constantly peeled off in the hail of bullets, the wing membranes were torn, and eventually, the entire body, along with that layer of tattered Nano-Carapace, was blasted into blood and mud.

The head was torn from the torso by the shockwave, rolled several times, and hit the corner of the wall; the dark red light of the compound eyes extinguished. This time, no one dared to let their guard down again.

Several assault team members in the front row raised their guns, cautiously approaching the head, their muzzles aimed at it the entire time, as if they were approaching a booby trap that could detonate at any moment.

Just then, another armed man in the crowd suddenly screamed. He tilted his head back, his mouth wide open, and thick black smoke erupted from his eye sockets simultaneously. The black mist surged out from the depths of his throat, quickly wrapping around his entire body. The red light of the compound eyes lit up again, and the sharp whistle of wing membranes tearing through the air swept over immediately after. It was another one-sided slaughter.

...

Behind them in the corridor, Rockefeller III, Samuel, Isabelle DuPont, Jacob Rothschild, and William Vanderbilt V had already been surrounded by their respective personal bodyguards, with several bulletproof shields forming a temporary defensive wall in front of them.

Samuel watched the slaughterhouse in the distance where people kept falling, and black smoke kept rising and condensing. His lips were pursed tightly, his jaw extremely tense. He withdrew his gaze from the distance and turned his head to look at Rockefeller III.

Isabelle DuPont pulled her bulletproof cloak to her elbow, her lips slightly parted, watching the black carapace that had condensed and formed again on a new body, and remained silent for a long time.

Jacob Rothschild also raised his eyes, and William Vanderbilt V stared at Rockefeller III's profile almost simultaneously.

"Time after time, it just won't die."

Jacob Rothschild's voice was not loud, but in this underground corridor filled with intermittent screams and gunfire, every word was exceptionally clear, "Isn't this just possession?"

"In ancient legends, those devils that jump from one body to another, an evil art that is immortal!"

William Vanderbilt V placed his hand on the shoulder of the guard beside him, staring at the black-carapaced humanoid figure rising again in the center of the pool of blood in the distance, his voice extremely low: "Time after time, it just won't die..."

"Could it be that Solomon has really achieved the immortality found only in myths by using that set of alien armor?"

Samuel reached out and grabbed Rockefeller III's sleeve, pulling hard, yanking him from in front of the gap in the shields to right before him, his voice low and urgent: "Rockefeller! You said before that Solomon had at most one or two pieces of alien weaponry!"

"You told us to use human lives to fill the gap!"

"Now that we've finished filling it, this thing simply cannot be killed!"

"Why don't you tell me again, how do we fill a hole that can never be filled?"