Chapter 13: Resolution
“Tap, tap.”
The sound of footsteps echoed sharply in the dark sewer, unnaturally loud, even carrying faint reverberations.
Not far behind Zhou Ming, Cold Blade and his men had already turned off the lamps on their helmets, following only by the faint light of Zhou Ming’s lamp ahead.
If they turned on their lights, it would be the same as announcing to Zhou Ming that someone was behind him.
Recently, they had also noticed that Zhou Ming had become much more alert, probing into the events that occurred when the Rat Exterminators entered the sewers. It was clear he had learned something.
If he saw anyone tailing him, he might very well flee on the spot.
In a maze-like sewer, anything could happen; losing track of someone was entirely normal.
“Tap, tap.”
Zhou Ming moved forward step by step, and Cold Blade’s group matched their pace to his rhythm.
Their sounds overlapped, and with the added echoes, it was nearly impossible to distinguish them unless one listened carefully.
It seemed Cold Blade and his group were experienced in such dark dealings—they had already mastered the art.
Not only did they know how to approach a target smoothly, but even their movements carried a seasoned, professional air.
Unfortunately for them, Zhou Ming wasn’t in the sewers tonight to exterminate rats—he was here to fish.
With his current preparedness, there was no way he could fail to notice the anomaly behind him. With his present strength, those few behind him could be crushed effortlessly.
However, to avoid unnecessary trouble, Zhou Ming decided to lure them deeper in.
At a corner turn, Zhou Ming’s gloved right hand brushed lightly against the wall, and two slender Ironthread Snakes slithered out.
Now having three Ironthread Snakes in total, Zhou Ming intended for the strongest—Number One—to guard his safety, while Number Two and Number Three dealt with the enemies.
If they couldn’t finish the job, the hidden Number One Ironthread Snake would be his last card to overturn the situation.
Watching Zhou Ming head deeper and deeper into the sewer without stopping once, the men following him felt a trace of unease.
After all, the deeper one went, the more likely they were to encounter large swarms of Hardfur Rats—the danger increased exponentially.
Ordinarily, Rat Exterminators would never venture that deep unless they were part of a large team.
Rat Exterminators came for money, not for thrills.
Even the Qinshan Base had never aimed to wipe out all the Hardfur Rats—keeping them under control was enough, for total extermination was practically impossible.
As Zhou Ming continued his descent, the group secretly speculated that the secret behind his ability to slay so many Hardfur Rats might be hidden in the depths of the sewers.
Their greed united their thoughts as one.
Unfortunately, the depths of the sewer held nothing—except the “lucky spot” Zhou Ming had chosen for them.
“This place will do nicely.”
Zhou Ming’s voice suddenly echoed from the darkness ahead, leaving the group behind him confused.
Just a few meters before Zhou Ming lay a large, filthy pool of wastewater.
Black, green, and brown-yellow hues swirled together, accompanied by a nauseating stench and a sticky, revolting texture—it was a foul mixture of every possible filth.
“Something’s wrong.”
The quick-witted Cold Blade immediately sensed danger. No longer caring whether Zhou Ming noticed him, he tried to turn back and retreat toward the tunnel entrance.
But his reaction came too late. As soon as Zhou Ming’s voice faded, two Ironthread Snakes bared their fangs.
Under Zhou Ming’s control, the snakes didn’t go for their feet, but lunged straight for their knees.
The Rat Exterminators’ protective suits included thick, specially made boots—fangs of unmutated Ironthread Snakes couldn’t easily pierce through.
Thus, Zhou Ming directed the snakes to strike the knees, where only the thin protective pants offered minimal defense.
“Ah! Ahhh—!”
“What is that!?”
“Something’s attacking us!”
“Lights! Turn on the lights!”
……
Their terrified shouts laid bare the panic in their hearts as they fumbled to turn on the lamps on their helmets.
In the dim chaos, the Ironthread Snakes under Zhou Ming’s control completed their attack with swift precision.
However, the men were not frail like Raccoon Cats, and the snakes were still ordinary. Even with Zhou Ming channeling a large amount of venom through them, the victims could still barely move.
When they finally switched their lamps on, they caught sight of the two Ironthread Snakes slithering away after their successful strike.
“Ironthread Snakes!?”
In a society dominated by the Beast Taming culture, even ordinary people paid attention to powerful beasts. They instantly recognized what had bitten them.
Their vision darkened in despair.
They knew they wouldn’t be escaping tonight.
“Zhou Ming, I know you noticed us. Let me go! You’re a Beast Tamer—you must have an antidote!”
Realizing Zhou Ming could control the Ironthread Snakes, Cold Blade immediately guessed his identity, understanding now why Zhou Ming could earn so much each day.
As for why a Beast Tamer would bother becoming a Rat Exterminator, Cold Blade no longer cared. He just wanted to live.
“Yes, Zhou Ming! You must have an antidote! Save me! I’ll pay—you can have all my property, over a million! Don’t you want it?”
Hearing Cold Blade’s pleas, Scarred Knife also reacted, switching to bribery.
“Brother Zhou, Grandfather Zhou, please spare us! We have money too!”
The others begged frantically, their eyes fixed on the dim glow ahead—Zhou Ming’s light, their final ray of hope.
Yet no matter how they begged or bargained, Zhou Ming stood motionless in the distance.
No response. No approach.
He simply stood there, as though watching them take their final steps in life.
“Zhou Ming, my grandmother—”
Seeing their last hope untouchable, Scarred Knife’s mind finally broke.
“Zhou Ming! My elder brother will avenge me! You’ll die in agony—a thousand times worse, ten thousand times worse!”
By now, even the calmest—Cold Blade—could no longer endure the suffocating fear of death’s approach.
……
Facing their doomed fate, the men sprawled in the filthy water used their final strength to curse Zhou Ming.
They wished him endless misfortune, hoping he would die far more miserably than they would.
“Zhou—”
After three or four minutes, their breathing turned faint as threads. Even in their dying moments, they continued cursing Zhou Ming.
In utter despair, fear had already shattered their sanity—leaving only instinctive malice.
When the last sound faded, the dark sewer returned to silence.
Zhou Ming did not immediately step forward to check. He didn’t mind waiting a few more minutes.
Moments later, with the steady sound of “tap, tap,” Zhou Ming walked toward the place where their bodies lay.