Even after being detached, that small severed piece of tentacle retained vigorous life and a terrifying appetite. It not only burrowed deeper into the unfortunate man's body but actively consumed the surrounding flesh and blood as it moved.
In mere breaths, it was visibly larger. The monster's bodily tissue displayed a frightening efficiency in food conversion, surpassing anything known on Earth.
Zhou Yi did not dare allow the small piece to burrow deeper. Knowing that direct telekinesis would likely be neutralized, he instead used the more complex and mentally taxing force field manipulation.
He generated a miniature, powerful gravitational field between his fingers and pressed it onto the victim's wound. The small tentacle was still a physical object, and all physical objects are subject to force fields.
Under the intense gravitational pull, the half-severed tentacle was forcibly extracted, bringing with it the human flesh and blood it had consumed. Zhou Yi carefully controlled the field to only extract the invading tissue, while protecting the remaining human tissues with a surrounding telekinetic field.
The victim only lost a section of flesh near his shoulder and suffered severe bleeding—a far better outcome than having a monster devour him from the inside out.
Tightly controlling the severed tentacle with the gravitational field, Zhou Yi used telekinesis to push the victim far back into the crowd. He was not going to protect a reckless individual while simultaneously battling a monster he had no clear strategy to defeat.
Having tasted delicious flesh and blood, the monster clearly didn't want its rare food to escape. Although its primitive biological instinct registered the danger posed by Zhou Yi, the instinct to feed overruled all else. Being an aggregation of primitive wills, instinct often dictated its actions.
Another massive tentacle, composed of the flesh-and-blood mixture, shot out. Simultaneously, the entire puddle of gore began to surge like rolling mud, a horrifying sight.
Zhou Yi shook out his long spear. The over-a-meter-long spear pierced the head of the tentacle the moment it shot up. The Adamantium tip, spun into a high-speed spiral by Zhou Yi, easily tore through the tissue, pulverizing it. A spray of fragmented flesh rained down, and as these scattered pieces hit the ground, they began slowly inching back toward the parent body.
He encased the half-severed tentacle in a repulsive force field and hurled it violently into the center of the muddy mass. The controlled repulsive force acted like an invisible giant hammer. The cabin floor groaned, the flesh churned, and waves of biological tissue rippled outward.
Parts of the body were momentarily crushed into powder, but the damaged areas instantly repaired themselves, becoming even tougher than before.
The small severed tentacle was entirely swallowed and assimilated by the parent body. This self-digestion and repair function confirmed the collective will of the tissue. When dispersed, they were individual units, but in the presence of the collective, they actively merged. This collective nature meant that short of complete annihilation, they would continuously self-aggregate and recover.
Zhou Yi didn't know the smallest unit of this collective consciousness, but the current capability displayed meant that most physical attacks were useless. No matter the force applied, unless the monster was pulverized below its smallest unit of will, it would always reassemble and heal.
Zhou Yi increased the repulsive force, continuously pressing the monster to keep it from advancing, all while pondering a way to eliminate it. He decided to take a huge risk.
A ball of brilliant white fire ignited on the Adamantium spearhead. This was the color of flames burning at 4,000 C. Waves of intense heat immediately swept the cabin. Objects near the spearhead either instantly melted like snow or turned to ash. Steel, which melts below 2,000 C, was no match.
Multiple areas of the cabin caught fire, and the aircraft structure itself began to show signs of softening and deformation. Zhou Yi deployed a telekinetic field to protect the immediate cabin and the passengers behind him, then thrust his long spear into the flesh-mud.
Facing the extreme heat, the monster emitted chaotic, piercing sounds—alarm signals transmitted by countless tissues via psychic agitation. It began to retreat, but its amorphous nature made it clumsy.
The long spear stabbed into the mass instantly.
Flames surged, the scorching temperature beginning to burn everything in contact. The monster let out a continuous, agonizing shriek—the collective sound of countless tissues in despair.
Although its cries were wrenching, they were merely expressions of pain. Its scattered psychic defenses were enough to withstand the flames. The pain only elicited primitive responses: attack or retreat. The flesh monster chose the former.
A dozen thick tentacles lashed out fiercely at the source of its pain.
All tentacles moved at supersonic speed, accompanied by sharp whistling sounds, signifying extreme lethality.
Zhou Yi met the attack head-on. He shook his long spear, the tip scattering into layered, dense strikes, like a storm of metallic pear blossoms. Whistles emanated from his weapon, confirming his attack speed was equally supersonic.
The spear tip struck each tentacle, the sharp blade instantly severing the flesh and blood. The fierce Qi blades, their momentum undiminished, carved shallow wounds into the parent body. The wounds wouldn't stop it, but they caused immense pain.
With no concept of a failed attack, and the pain fueling its frenzy, the monster became wild. Countless tentacles flailed toward Zhou Yi, attacking indiscriminately.
Zhou Yi's long spear was a blur of defense. The rolling flames transformed into a brilliant fiery current dancing on the tip, tearing flesh and scorching tissue. He appeared to have the upper hand, but the damage was negligible.
The monster's vitality was too tenacious; the damage dealt was less than its self-repair speed. But the pain—the tearing, the burning—pushed its inherent agitation to a peak. It thrashed its tentacles desperately, and for a moment, the cabin seemed filled with swinging, bloody appendages.
Then, a new, terrible sound.
One of the aimlessly swinging tentacles tore through the cabin wall. Zhou Yi's telekinetic field, which was ineffective against the monster's collective consciousness, had been no shield.
Cold air rushed in through the hole, and the entire plane swayed. Zhou Yi quickly reinforced his telekinesis to prevent the airflow from tearing the hole larger. This was terrible news, but for the flesh monster, the sudden influx of cold air was a relief from the scorching fire.
The drop in temperature, combined with the extreme pain, led the collective consciousness to choose retreat.
A dozen tentacles shot toward the damaged cabin wall, simultaneously tearing larger fissures in the structure as they broke through Zhou Yi's ineffective telekinesis. The tips hooked firmly onto the edges, and they began to pull their parent body toward the opening.
To accelerate, the monster used its tentacles to propel its massive body, making it surprisingly agile.
Watching the enormous mass desperately squeezing through the fissure, its sheer size stretching the crack wider, Zhou Yi's anxiety spiked. He couldn't stop it.
The monster was too large; stopping its movement with a strong force field would likely twist the entire cabin into a soda can shape, endangering everyone. Forcibly pulling it back with brute strength was equally reckless; the struggle would tear more holes in the fuselage.
The damage was done. Continuing the fight inside was pointless. A new idea struck Zhou Yi as he felt the plane shudder and glanced at the terrified passengers. The venue had to change.