Lost in the Otherworld

Old Zhang convulsed in agony, letting out a piercing scream as several tentacles retracted to shield his head.

"The weak spot is the head!" Officer Huang shouted to Qing Ling while swiftly reloading a fresh magazine.

Qing Ling had already noticed, but she dared not approach recklessly.

Old Zhang had over twenty tentacles, each as flexible as they were powerful. Apart from the Tang sword in her hand, no other weapon could possibly sever them, and even if she did manage to cut one off, it would quickly regenerate and grow back.

In contrast, if Qing Ling made a single mistake, she would be ensnared by countless tentacles and dragged towards Old Zhang. The tendrils would then envelop her, transforming once more into that grotesque “meat grinder,” grinding her into pulp. Her eyes, mouth, nose, and ears would likely become part of that repulsive mass of flesh, joining Old Zhang in chanting endlessly, “Human, human, human…” Meanwhile, her body would be transformed into new tentacles to hunt more victims...

Just imagining such a death sent a shiver down even Qing Ling’s spine.

There was only one chance.

Failure meant hell.

Qing Ling inhaled deeply, suddenly sprinting at full speed, circling her target. Old Zhang's tentacles followed, spinning like a twisted, grotesque carousel.

After two minutes of high-speed maneuvering, Qing Ling’s pace slowed. Both her sprinting ability and her innate skill as a blade master relied on short bursts of explosive power, meaning she couldn’t sustain this for long. A swift resolution was essential.

Though she hadn’t found the perfect opening, she had to strike before her stamina gave out.

“Cover me!” Qing Ling seized the moment, dashing toward the side of Old Zhang with the fewest tentacles. Immediately, seven or eight tentacles recoiled while over a dozen others lunged from all directions to intercept her.

Qing Ling closed the distance rapidly, constantly adjusting her movement to evade the attacks, slicing through the oncoming tendrils.

The air was thick with a mist of blood, and amidst the flashing blades, Qing Ling moved like a bloodstained white butterfly, dancing gracefully among the mass of tentacles.

Officer Huang wasn’t idle either.

He activated his “Gun Master” ability, firing bullets at a rapid pace, each shot severing the tentacles that escaped Qing Ling’s blade.

All of this happened in mere seconds.

As Officer Huang emptied his last round, Qing Ling had already closed in on Old Zhang. With a swift sidestep, she dodged the final two tentacles, raised her sword high with both hands, and brought it down towards Old Zhang’s “head.”

In that moment, everyone believed that Old Zhang's head would split like a fragile melon. But no one had considered the severed tentacles on the ground.

The moment they hit the earth, they began slithering back toward their body with astonishing speed.

Just as Qing Ling prepared to deliver the final blow, a sharp pain shot through her heel. The severed tentacles were lashing at her ankles. Her footing slipped, and though she quickly adjusted, the power in her waist faltered, causing her arms to lose much of their strength.

A second later, she delivered a severely weakened strike.

Though still powerful, the blade only sliced less than a third of the way through its target. Old Zhang wasn’t killed. Instead, he howled in agony as several newly regenerated tentacles lashed out, viciously striking Qing Ling across the waist.

“Ugh…” Qing Ling’s weapon flew from her hands as she was hurled several meters away, rolling twice across the ground. Yet she hadn’t given up. Reaching out toward Old Zhang, her right hand stretched, fingers splayed wide: “Metal!”