Su Changxing held the revolver, firing repeatedly at the mechanical body, blasting it into four or five pieces of varying sizes, gears scattering all over the ground.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, feeling the old monk's life force rapidly draining away.
Before this, he truly didn't dare to relax; any mistake could have led to a completely different outcome.
In fact, if the old monk had been a bit more cautious, Su Changxing wouldn't have stood a chance against him.
But who could have thought that disease could corrode even a mechanical body?
Su Changxing spat out a mouthful of fresh blood again, the endless sound of Buddhist scriptures in his ears made him uneasy. He covered his mouth as if he was about to vomit something out.
A bloody, rusty gear appeared in his hand.
He panted heavily, staring at the object in his hand, "What is this?"
Why did this thing come out of his mouth? It looked very much like the gears inside the old monk's body, just rusted.
