*"Yuhan's been controlled too?"* Wen Wen's expression darkened.
He had been with the Hunter Association for some time now. Though he wasn’t particularly close to Yuhan, they were still acquaintances. Seeing her in this state left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His gaze shifted to the flare gun at her waist, and realization struck. *She* was the one who had fired the signal.
With her last ounce of strength, she had sent out a distress call—yet she hadn’t managed to escape herself.
Cracking his knuckles, Wen Wen prepared to join the fray. With his current strength, turning the tide would be effortless.
He wasn’t entirely sure just how powerful he was when stacking two physiques, but he knew one thing: he wouldn’t disappoint himself.
Yet the moment he took a step forward, he froze.
Because the Disaster Glove had once again pulsed with *hunger*.
Wen Wen’s eyes widened as he stared at the villa. Whatever was triggering the glove’s craving lay in its basement.
Since joining the Association, Wen Wen had gained access to archives previously beyond his reach. He was no longer a clueless rookie in the world of supernaturals.
He knew that the blood-red heart his Disaster Glove had absorbed last time was an *energy core*—the very thing that allowed Disaster-class entities to manifest in the real world.
The last remnants of that energy now resided in his own heart, continuously strengthening his body.
The progress was slow, but his baseline physical abilities *were* steadily improving.
And it was energy of *that* caliber that had unlocked the containment center’s second level.
Now, the glove’s hunger had resurfaced. Did that mean the villa’s basement housed an energy source comparable—or even *superior*—to the blood-red heart?
*"If that’s the case, then this *is* the origin of the corruption. If I let the Disaster Glove absorb that energy, I can stop this catastrophe."*
After a moment’s deliberation, Wen Wen decided against aiding Gong Bao Ding and the others. Their battle was at a stalemate, but they weren’t losing.
Besides, now that the signal had been fired, other hunters—like the archer who’d fired that earlier shot—would surely arrive soon.
Teaming up with them would only complicate his energy absorption.
Whether to halt the disaster or to grow stronger, Wen Wen *couldn’t* reveal himself now.
So he suppressed his aura and stealthily circled to the villa’s rear.
At the back security door, he placed his hand on the handle and twisted lightly. The entire metal door crumpled like tinfoil, dropping to the ground with a clang.
The current Wen Wen might as well have been a human-shaped monster.
In the past, breaking the door would’ve been easy—but twisting it into a *pretzel*? Impossible.
The golden eagle physique hadn’t just given him wings. It had also bestowed talons capable of shredding steel.
After cautiously entering the villa and confirming no immediate threats, Wen Wen moved swiftly.
He needed to absorb that energy *fast*—before the others outside noticed and intervened.
Soon, he located the basement entrance. But just as he was about to breach it, a crimson tentacle lashed out without warning.
The speed was blinding. Wen Wen barely had time to manifest the Disaster Glove and block his chest before the impact sent him flying.
He crashed through a wall before skidding to a stop.
Even with his monstrous physique, his throat tasted metallic as he stared ahead in shock.
*"I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew."*
As he pushed himself up, the grotesque female monster skittered toward him on eight elongated legs, her movements eerily graceful.
Her proportions were bizarre—her legs, though slender, were unnaturally long; her waist, thicker than a normal woman’s, somehow balanced her frame. By Wen Wen’s warped aesthetic standards, she was almost... *attractive*.
*"Those legs... *eight times* the fun!"*
He licked his lips, intrigued—until he glanced at his arm and all amusement vanished.
The sleeve of his indestructible Containment Officer uniform had been *sheared off*, leaving only the pitch-black Disaster Glove exposed.
*"Raw strength alone shouldn’t have done this..."*
His gaze snapped to the tentacle. Its crimson surface was *covered* in swarming lobsters—all alive, their tiny claws snipping relentlessly at anything they touched.
Had Wen Wen not shielded his arm, his entire hand would’ve been reduced to mincemeat.
*"So much for ‘lobsters thrive in polluted waters.’ Turns out they grow on *monsters*... Note to self: never eat lobster again."*
Since he wasn’t *completely* screwed yet, Wen Wen’s mood remained light enough for jokes.
Two daggers slid from his sleeves into his grip as he steadied himself.
That single strike had confirmed it: this thing was at *least* Disaster-class—and no ordinary one at that.
Fighting such an opponent head-on was risky. But if he wanted to absorb the corruption’s source, he *had* to get past her.
Besides, even if he tried to retreat now, the monster likely wouldn’t let him.
Her delicate face was twisted with murderous intent.
After a brief standoff, the tentacle whipped toward him again, its tip cracking the air with a sonic boom.
Wen Wen sidestepped narrowly. At full focus, dodging *one* tentacle wasn’t hard.
But she had *more* than one.
Multiple tentacles lashed out in rapid succession, their speed defying logic. The sheer onslaught made Wen Wen feel like he was facing a *freaking industrial fan*.
While he could barely avoid direct hits, closing the distance or counterattacking was impossible. All he could do was defend frantically.
His daggers *could* slice the tentacles—but their hide was absurdly tough. Even his full-strength strikes only scratched the surface, and those wounds healed instantly.
Gunfire would’ve been ideal, but bullets left evidence. He couldn’t afford traces of his presence here.
Mid-battle, a flicker of recognition struck Wen Wen.
He’d *seen* this woman before.
At the Kewei Museum—*Liao Jiaxin*, the one who’d approached him.
The corruption radiating from her was on a completely different level from the monsters outside. *Thank god I turned her down back then.*
What Wen Wen *didn’t* know was that had he accepted her invitation, Liao Jiaxin would never have met Garland. This hellscape might never have existed.
But there were no "what-ifs" in reality.
Even if not Liao Jiaxin, someone else would’ve fallen under the "Great Mother’s" control—becoming the catalyst for disaster.