The Sword Saint was about to go crazy; this game was way too realistic. There was no role capable of healing players on the spot.
Bang!
In less than a dozen seconds, the Model D used a power sword about 1.8 meters long to scale the concrete wall and reached the twelfth floor. Following a bio-radar scan, it immediately spotted the lone escaping Sword Saint in the hallway.
No ambushing comrades, no land mines or anything; definitely in a desperate flight.
Once confirmed safe, the Model D charged forward like a tank, crashing through the weaker composite partitions without hesitation.
With rumbling noises behind him, the Sword Saint wished he could sprout two more legs to run faster, but the heavy exoskeleton mobility was left to Arnold, who had been ditched and hidden in a corner.
Meanwhile, the player channel was a chaotic mess.
"Have we relocated the artillery? That damn Huang Ban armored vehicle is chasing us like dogs!"
"Why panic? Still setting up the cannon."
