Lin Xian sat atop the drop tower ride, a faint glow flowing from his palm. He remotely softened and twisted the massive steel creation in the parking lot in an instant, like a wax figure thrown into an invisible furnace, rapidly devoured into ashes, leaving only slight pressure marks on the ground and a faint, nearly imperceptible scent of metal burning in the air. A few meters away, a dried palm leaf stuck to the windshield of the last car was caught in the wave of this invisible devouring force, spiraled silently, and disintegrated into fine ash.
"Roar..."
The wire fence kept shaking, as if discovering a long-lost prey, or as if responding to the inherent biological instincts invaded by darkness. Dense hordes of zombies clung to the fence, roaring at the living person sitting on the drop tower.
Lin Xian didn't even lift an eyelid. He casually grabbed a faded toy trumpet from a nearby convertible with a torn roof and weighed the plastic object in his hand, then swung his arm.
