As the distance gradually closed in, the oppressive feeling grew stronger.
Wei Zheng even experienced an even more absurd illusion.
What he saw wasn’t a person, but a sun walking in the rain curtain.
The seemingly normal body seemed to harbor volcano-like energy that could erupt at any moment.
Naked muscles faintly gleamed with a golden sheen under the rain’s reflection.
That was the extreme vitality of blood energy, emitting an invisible aura.
As it passed, even the icy rain seemed to lose a bit of its chill.
Though it was raining, it felt inexplicably hot...
Wei Zheng was somewhat dazed, not even noticing the ash falling on his pants from the cigarette between his fingers.
Until the man walked up to the jeep and stopped.
"Hello, could you please move aside, and shift the car?"
Fang Cheng’s voice was very calm.
Wei Zheng snapped back to reality and realized his car was blocking the way down the mountain.
Instinctively, he reached for the gear stick but his hand froze once he touched it.
He abruptly turned his head, his gaze landing back on the strangely behaving naked man, instantly filled with alertness.
When the man spoke, that solar-like oppressive sensation vanished into thin air.
As if it had never appeared, it was really just an illusion.
Standing in front of the car now was merely a handsome, impossibly well-built young man.
But Wei Zheng dared not relax at all.
Relying on the intuition honed over a decade with the Special Search Team, he could clearly sense that this man was astoundingly strong!
Beneath that seemingly reserved aura lurked a ferocity that made his hair stand on end.
This kind of person could very likely have killed someone!
Wei Zheng was uncertain and suspicious, his hand secretly resting on his waist gun, his mouth asking sharply:
"Who are you? I’m a cop, show me your ID!"
Fang Cheng heard this, his expression somewhat speechless.
Then he shrugged, his gaze seeming to say:
Do I look like I can carry an ID ?
Wei Zheng was slightly stunned, but didn’t lower his guard.
He stared intently at the muscular man before him, his mind racing. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveI[F]ire.net
Is he a member of some noble family?
Or... a human-monster deliberately hiding in a rural village?
Fang Cheng also assessed the middle-aged man claiming to be a cop before him.
The man’s tense demeanor and heavy gaze were genuine, evidently considering him a dangerous element.
He remained quietly standing, waiting for the other’s next move.
One inside the car and one outside.
The two faced off across a thin rain curtain, the atmosphere somewhat tense.
At this awkward moment, a rambunctious voice came from not far away.
"Brother Wei, I bought the wine, two bottles of Wuliangchun! Come on, let’s try my cooking skill at home!"
Ma Donghe dashed over excitedly carrying two bottles of wine.
When he saw the man standing in front of the car, he gaped in surprise.
"Huh, Fang Cheng, why did you finish your retreat today?!"
In an instant, the tense atmosphere was completely shattered.
Wei Zheng stared blankly at the suddenly appearing Ma Donghe.
Then, he turned his gaze to the visibly resigned "red-underpants muscle man" in front of the car.
His brain was somewhat crashed, opening his mouth but failing to produce a sound.
Ma Donghe was oblivious to what had just happened.
He glanced at the dumbfounded Wei Zheng, then at Fang Cheng flaunting his muscles in broad daylight.
Finally, his gaze fell on the familiar red underpants, revealing a knowing, lewd smile on his face.
By noon, the sky had cleared completely.
The sun half-dried the stone slabs in the yard, with traces of moisture remaining in the shadow at the wall’s base, marking the abrupt rainstorm earlier.
The open hallway doors let in a breeze now carrying a hint of warmth.
Inside, an eight-person redwood table displayed an array of dishes.
A rich soy sauce braised pork knuckle, large pieces of slow-cooked lamb chops, golden, glossy roast chicken, and a whole basin of steaming boiled beef.
Ninety percent of the dishes were hearty fare, covering the table, sumptuous to the extreme.
Yet at this moment, the three men seated at the table had halted their chopsticks, all focused on watching another person eat.
Opposite them, Fang Cheng was buried in a pile of bones.
To describe his eating with words was difficult.
It wasn’t eating, more like some kind of rapid dismantling.
A roast chicken in his hands became a neat pile of bones in less than half a minute.
A large pork knuckle was separated from its bones in a few swift moves.
His hands stuffed and grabbed, his mouth chewing as fast as an industrial crusher.
Occasionally a crunching sound emerged—that was him chewing even the cartilage.
The table-side trash bin filled with food scrap at a visibly rapid pace, forming a small mountain.
Ma Jianguo stroked his beard, trying to maintain his grandmasterly demeanor, but twitching eye corners betrayed his inner unrest.
Ma Donghe wore a face of shared pride, seeing Fang Cheng as a kindred spirit.
As if Fang Cheng was eating not dishes but the cooking skills refined through years of effort.
The most shocked was Wei Zheng.
In the Special Search Team, he had seen modified people from the Experimental Department with "enhanced digestive systems."