Chapter Thirteen: Slaying the Golden Boss

The mutant Caucasian dog was still plagued by those mutated mosquitoes flitting about its head, always ready to dart down for a bite, never lingering in the same spot for more than a second. They were far faster and more agile than any mutated mosquitoes Liang Jing had encountered before, at least twice as quick! Were it not for the battle taking place inside the building, the Caucasian would have been at a total loss against them.

However, as the other mutant monsters gradually fell, the number of enemies in the field dwindled, and the Caucasian finally found the freedom to deal with these fly-like pests. One mutated mosquito swooped down for a bite but was instantly caught in the impatient jaws of the giant dog, crushed to pieces with a snap.

The mosquitoes, true to their low intelligence, acted purely on instinct. The remaining Level-3 mutated mosquitoes were swiftly smashed or clawed to death as soon as the Caucasian had eliminated all other threats. It wasn’t long before they were wiped out entirely.

Now, only the colossal creature remained, bounding anxiously around the narrow hall, hurling its body against the walls to squash the small parasites clinging to its fur, swiping at its head with powerful front paws or collapsing heavily to the ground. Yet the two mutant rats were cunning beyond compare. Their sharp, piercing squeaks echoed as they swung from the steel-like hairs of the Caucasian, always evading the brunt of its attacks. With each passing moment, blood flowed more freely from the dog, its movements growing heavier and slower.

Liang Jing seemed to see in the Caucasian’s eyes a look of agony and helplessness, as though an elephant were facing its natural nemesis, the mouse. But soon, a tremor passed through the dog’s massive frame; it leapt even more vigorously, desperate not to let the rats find a foothold to do more damage.

It was on the verge of evolution!

A howl rang out, piercing and powerful, laced with pain, excitement, and a trace of resignation. What a dog! Though utterly exhausted, it still stood proud on all fours. Its back was riddled with deep, bloody gouges, some wounds so severe that the flesh was gone, revealing bone beneath, bubbling and pale from the corrosive venom of the mutant spiders. The gaping wound under its belly, chewed wider by the mutant rats with every dodge, spilled intestines onto the blood-soaked floor. Yet it held its head high, gaze unwavering, as if waiting for something.

Liang Jing now understood from the Caucasian’s eyes why the battle had stayed inside the building rather than outside in open space: the dog had developed enough intelligence to know what gave it the advantage.

The more monsters evolved, the smarter they became, and the less apparent humanity’s edge would be. The future looked grim.

...

“How is it? Did you find him?” Hong Bin, fully armed and holding a pistol, glanced at Jing Hui as he approached.

“Liang Jing isn’t with Yang Yuyuan and the others. Word is he went back to his old apartment for something. If we hurry, we’ll catch up to him,” Jing Hui replied. Earlier, they’d managed to locate a few former factory security guards and asked them to help track down Yang Yuyuan and Liang Jing. Luckily, Qingshui Bay wasn’t that large, and Yang Yuyuan and his group had made plenty of noise tidying up their building. With the guards’ help, they were found quickly. Though Liang Jing wasn’t there, they at least learned of his whereabouts.

While Jing Hui was on good terms with the guards—having often traded favors with them when pilfering factory materials—it wasn’t enough for them to risk their lives outside in these dangerous times. But with Hong Bin’s fearsome reputation, the guards were eager to help. Jing Hui boasted about working with Hong Bin now—even mentioning the gun—and promised to introduce the guards to the group. Energized, the guards sprang into action.

“Let’s go. Lead the way…” Hong Bin ran his hand over his pistol, a cruel smile on his face.

Liang Jing, is it? Time to show you what the underworld really is. Some tigers’ tails aren’t to be touched.

...

Gradually, as a second eye was gnawed out by the mutant rats and the wound in its belly grew larger, the Caucasian grew weaker and weaker. Yet its shattered, empty eyes seemed to come alive with spirit. It was racing against death, about to break through to the next level.

Liang Jing was torn. His original plan had been to wait until the Caucasian, only able to fight at half its usual strength during its evolution, was severely wounded by the other high-level monsters. Then, when both sides were spent, he would swoop in for the spoils. The situation had unfolded just as he’d hoped.

Yet seeing these mutant monsters—each one demanding tremendous effort for him to defeat alone—reduced to fragile playthings before the Caucasian, Liang Jing couldn’t help but shudder. The gap in strength was overwhelming. He certainly didn’t possess the mutant rats’ abilities; even a desperate, final strike would be futile.

The two mutant rats seemed to sense that the decisive moment had come. Even before their mutation, rats displayed notable intelligence—why else would white mice be used for experiments? After mutating, their cunning had only intensified. Their participation in the siege stemmed from more than just the lure of profit; the risk was acceptable because, although the Caucasian was high-ranked, it hadn’t yet reached an insurmountable level. It had only been a day since its transformation, and despite its formidable physique, it lacked any awakened talent or special ability—the rats’ forte was never direct confrontation.

But once it evolved to the golden BOSS stage, its bloodline would surge, and it would surely awaken its innate abilities. Then, the battle would become a contest not just of brute strength, but of extraordinary powers.

Danger.

The rats panicked; escape seemed impossible now. The mutant Caucasian, with its devastating power, would never let its mortal enemies go. It was a fight to the death.

The two mutant rats went berserk—one burrowed into the dog’s skull through its empty eye socket, the other dove into its belly. The Caucasian howled in agony, its battered body collapsing to the ground, thrashing and rolling. The rat in its skull managed only to squeeze inside before the Caucasian’s paw smashed it to pulp.

“Come on, keep going, rat—don’t stop!” Liang Jing cheered silently for the rat burrowing into the Caucasian’s belly. The beast’s vitality was astonishing; it had bled rivers and was still so ferocious. If only he had a capture skill, he’d make it his pet—what a mighty companion! Imagine riding it around to impress women. For now, he could only silently regret.

Under the rats’ attack, the Caucasian’s struggles grew weaker, its gaze still bright, but its body began to change. Its wounds healed rapidly. Its size remained much the same, but its fur lightened, turning a pale gold, growing longer and softer—yet somehow even tougher. Its overall form became more perfect and explosive, like a once-gentle face now chiseled and sharp. From its brow, a black-gold horn with a slight curve began to sprout, over twenty centimeters long and still growing. Barbs emerged from the knees and heels of its limbs, its tail fur shed, leaving only a faint down near the base, while the rest grew long, dense scales, forming a conical weapon. Fully matured, this Caucasian would be a living war machine.

Its evolution was nearly complete. The rat inside its belly seemed to sense something terrible and shrieked, frantically trying to escape through the abdominal wound. From the outside, the dog’s belly bulged as the rat tried to force its way out, but the wound was already closing, and soon, like the Caucasian itself, all went still.

Liang Jing watched as the dog lay there, eyes closed, its breathing rapid but gradually calming, its body limp and helpless.

“No, I can’t wait any longer—there won’t be another chance.” He knew the time had come: it was do or die. The Caucasian had just finished evolving, still gravely wounded, exhausted both in body and spirit. He’d prepared too long to give up now.

He’d go for broke!

Liang Jing gripped a steel pipe as thick as his wrist, over two meters long. He’d sliced one end at an angle with his short knife, creating a razor-sharp point for easier stabbing—he’d made it during the monster melee. For good measure, he’d smeared mutated spider venom inside the pipe.

Taking a deep breath, Liang Jing moved with silent steps, creeping toward his target. Fortunately, the other grievously wounded monsters still struggling in the room provided cover. The air reeked of blood, burning flesh, and rot, so thick and foul that even a dog’s keen senses were dulled—a rare advantage. He had to move fast before the venom corroded the steel completely.

Bang—

At five meters’ range, Liang Jing drove his feet into the floor, bursting forward at a sprint. The steel pipe shot straight for the Caucasian’s head, aiming for its eye, as swift and lethal as a viper’s strike.

At that moment, the Caucasian’s eyes snapped open, cold and black as ice. It sensed something.

Exactly as planned! Liang Jing had bet it would open its eyes if it sensed danger—otherwise, not even a sharpened, venom-coated steel pipe could harm a golden BOSS-level Caucasian.

A wet, sickening sound.

A heart-wrenching howl.

The Caucasian struggled to rise, but Liang Jing left it no chance. He drove the pipe with all his might—nearly the strength of six grown men—embedding most of it into the dog’s skull and twisting with all his power.

A boom.

Before he could react, Liang Jing’s vision went dark. He was sent flying, the world spinning, his tattered denim jacket shredded into fluttering scraps. He slammed into a wall, then crashed to the ground in the courtyard, rolling to a stop.

Blood spurted from his mouth midair; when he landed, he coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.

He glanced at his chest—his jacket now sported a gaping hole, exposing his armored vest. He looked more like he was wearing a cape than a coat now. He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly; thankfully, the blow hadn’t been as forceful as it could have been. The Caucasian truly had no strength left—his [Warrior’s Leather Armor] was undamaged. Only now did the agony hit, pain screaming through every nerve, burning to the bone.

Even Liang Jing, with all his grit, couldn’t help but groan in torment, needing the sound to vent the suffering.

“Amazing. No wonder so many high-level mutants were crushed like toys—this was before it even finished evolving. But it was worth it.” As the Caucasian’s howls faded, Liang Jing was sure the beast was finished.

At least one and a half meters of his steel pipe had been driven into the golden BOSS’s skull and twisted to pulp, the tip smeared with potent venom. He doubted even that mighty brain could withstand such an assault.

Once the BOSS was dead, it would all be worth it. Everything would change for the better.