The battle raged from day to night, and from night to day again.
The monsters within a few kilometers of Chaoyang Base were slowly exterminated.
For the moment, the base was safe.
Now, the group was gathered inside a luxurious, three-story apartment building.
In the main hall, Chaoyang was sprawled brazenly across a sofa, his face a mess of purple bruises, exuding an air of indolence.
He was utterly unashamed of his bruised face.
The others sat or stood, their expressions somber.
Besides the leaders of the four major Mercenary Corps, high-ranking superpower users of all levels were also present in the hall.
There were sixty or seventy people in all, yet the spacious hall still felt empty.
This was almost unthinkable in the Apocalypse.
Chaoyang touched the bruised corner of his eye and grinned at Feng Moxi. "I really owe it all to your Black Panther this time. If not for him, that might have been the end of me!"
