Chapter 858: Who Stole My Corpse?!!

Chapter 858 -710: Who Stole My Corpse?!!

Iron Claw stuck his head into the warped and twisted cockpit, eyes wide open, scanning back and forth several times, even not sparing the space under the seat.

As if that “missing” corpse would somehow use bone-shrinking powers to curl up inside and play hide and seek with him.

No.

It’s nowhere.

He suddenly retracted his head, and the hydraulic rod in his neck let out a light “hiss” sound. The next second, a violent rage burst forth as if it were tangible.

“Not there???”

“My car is still here! Where’s my corpse?!!”

Accompanied by a deafening roar, the four pairs of fierce mechanical limbs behind him crazily smashed into the car in front of him.

The sound of metal being forcibly snapped off, torn apart, and crushed was relentless.

The car roof was completely lifted off, the hood was utterly shredded, the chassis frame was twisted into a pretzel amid the piercing groans of metal…

In merely a few seconds, the entire sedan was reduced to a heap of smoking, scattered parts, a scrap-metal wreck.

Perhaps hoping this would shake the hidden corpse out.

“How could my huge corpse go missing?!!”

“I just left for a moment, how are only two arms left?!!”

Iron Claw stood amid a pile of scrap metal, the white armored shell smeared with oil and dark red specks of blood.

With his limited intelligence, he wracked his brains and reasoned out a conclusion he maintained was correct – the corpse didn’t walk away on its own!

Because if the corpse walked away by itself, it surely wouldn’t forget its arms.

So, there’s only one truth!

“Who? Who exactly stole my corpse?”

He abruptly turned around, heavy feet crushing the car light fragments underfoot, his furious eyes sweeping across the grass on both sides of the road and the faraway blurred horizon, as if the wretched body-thief was hiding behind some blades of grass snickering.

On the desolate road, the bewildered and angry roar echoed lonely, receiving no response.

The damp wind rustled through the grass, making a soft, mocking sound.

Only leaving behind a white humanoid spider raging against an empty car, seeming both eerily mysterious and inexplicably funny and amusing.

Is it the loss of humanity, or the decline of morals…

These days, even a mangled, grotesquely disfigured crippled corpse gets stolen?!

It’s not even an unlocked second-hand bicycle at the roadside!!!

…..

Time, rewind to five minutes ago.

More precisely, to 4 minutes 44 seconds ago.

3.3 kilometers in a straight line from the Second Prison, a row of bungalows partly hidden by knee-high wild grass and low thorny shrubs, like a grey scar crawling on the city’s edge, desolate, rundown, forgotten by most.

The most edgeward of these bungalows was so dilapidated it seemed like it might collapse at any moment.

The courtyard wall’s plaster was peeling off in large patches, exposing the uneven bricks beneath, less than one window glass intact, crudely shielded by broken wooden boards and filthy tarpaulin.

Here lies the temporary “nest” of the Worries Relief Studio’s ten-person team. The choice of this location was the result of precise calculations by the Intelligent Brain Xiaoyou.

3.3 kilometers represented a delicate safety distance.

Enough to ensure the team could use high-tech equipment for remote monitoring and observation without directly physically contacting the Second Prison, minimizing chances of alerting the enemy.

Meanwhile, this distance falls within the team’s rapid response radius.

Should a fleeting opportunity arise, team members can swiftly react, promptly initiating precise ambushes or interceptions on the road leading to the Second Prison.

Inside the bungalow, the light is dim, the air filled with dust and a faint mildew odor.

The team members each perform their duties, silently and efficiently busy like gears in a precise instrument.

“Environmental scan complete, no abnormal energy sources, no electromagnetic interference signals.”

In front of Xu Yingyan stood three high-performance laptops in parallel, the screens displaying continuously scrolling data streams and complex spectrograms, reflecting his focused face.

He was both the team’s sniper and responsible for data analysis and hacking duties.

Nowadays, it’s hard for single-skilled talents to find work; even professional killers have turned into versatile talents.

“Drone array in position, self-check complete, ready for takeoff at any time.”

Beside him, another team member responsible for equipment reported in a low voice.

On the ground were several drones neatly arranged with special wave-absorbent material, and a few open metal cases containing various forms of miniature reconnaissance units.

Team leader Zhang Shenyi stood calmly in the center of the room and issued an order:

“As planned, release ‘Eyes’ and ‘Sentinel’.”

Several team members near the window immediately went into action. With a soft “buzz,” several drones swiftly slid out of the window like black manta rays given life.

Once into the air, the special coating on their body surfaces interacted with the surrounding light environment, quickly entering “optical stealth” mode, nearly invisible to the naked eye.

Unless flying closely past one’s eyes, an observer might only see a momentary distortion ripple resembling a watermark in the air.

Almost simultaneously, another team member poured dozens of mechanical leeches, the length of a finger joint, mottled yellow-green all over, onto the weathered windowsill.

The multiple pairs of legs of the mechanical leeches began minutely swaying, like real insects, one after another jumping, deftly burrowing into the dense and untidy grass outside the window, merging with the natural environment in the blink of an eye.

Everything seemed to proceed according to plan, cautious, efficient, professional, fully embodying Worries Relief Studio’s usual style.