There was a frantic fire, only for the screech of bullets hitting the metal. There was no roar, no wailing was heard, not even the sound of a bullet piercing through the rough skin, not even a single bullet could be hit.

Frankimir listened intently, unable to see anything through the white mist, unable to tell if he hadn't hit the monster at all, or if there was nothing in front of him.

At this time, there was silence all around, not only was there no movement of the monster, but even Medusa, Leo, and Song didn't know where they had gone.

In the entire white steam room, it seems that only Frankimir is left, which makes Frankimir himself uncertain, whether to feel relaxed or nervous.

Everything seemed to be gone, leaving only a white patch, and in order to avoid tripping over the mechanical bulges that were scattered in the fog, Frankmir cautiously walked along the turbine.

Although all the steam comes from the huge turbines that rotate around the area, the wind force generated by the high frequency of rotation blows away the steam within a certain area, so the visibility in the vicinity of the turbines is much higher.

Frankie Mill looked at the huge squeaky turbines, the rotating blades, which looked very sharp and powerful. If you accidentally fall down, you will be cut to pieces by the turbine blades on the spot.

At this time, the steam boiler suddenly roared, which is caused by the pressure discharge operation caused by the boiler, similar to the pressure cooker that people use at home every day.

The roar of the exhaust was deafening, which made Frank Mir's perception of his surroundings even more sluggish. The whole steam room was so noisy, but Frankimir's heart was silent.

He could see and hear nothing but Frankimir himself, nothing but these steel bones, whether it was his companions or monsters who did not know where they were.

Frankimir kept his machine gun tightly in his hand, not daring to let up in the slightest, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible, or to meet Leo and the others, and preferably find a way to the lower level.

Frankimir cautiously walked along the turbine, and suddenly he felt a gust of air rushing towards him, because of the ferocity, he didn't have time to shoot, but he knew that it must not be a good thing, maybe it was the cyborg just now.

Due to the severe limitations of his eyesight and hearing, Frank Mire could not detect it in advance, and when he found out about the problem, he had no time to think about it carefully, so he had to use the machine gun in his hand as a shield, hoping to escape the catastrophe for the time being.

Something, slammed into the machine-gun cannon in Frankimir's hands.

It was only at this moment, Franky Mill, that he could see clearly what it was.

It wasn't some beast or monster, but a corpse, a headless corpse, bloody, rotting pale pink muscles that smelled sick.

Where does this come from? Looking at the corpse that had fallen to the steel floor, Frankimir couldn't help but be a little puzzled.

This is just a simple corpse, not a zombie of the walking dead, or even if it was a zombie, it has died completely. So it's impossible for this guy to fly to himself out of thin air like this, what the hell is going on?

Before Frank Mire could think about it, he heard a high-pitched roar, a cry of rage and a groan of death.

In this noisy steam room, the sound of dull or loud metal grinding is heard one after another.

But why did the monster's roar sound so clear and loud?

The answer is very simple, and that's because the monster is so close.

In the white mist, a snake-headed monster suddenly sprang out and pounced on Frankimir.

The monster's skin, like the scale armor of a lizard, was unusually rough and thick, and the most incredible thing was that this tall snake-headed monster was wearing a pair of metal armor.

Was it the monster himself putting it on, or was the fog so thick that Frankimir looked away. Apparently Frankimir didn't look away, and the monster was indeed wearing a metal outfit.

No wonder when Franky Mill shot just now, he only heard the sound of bullets hitting metal. There is no doubt that most of these bullets hit the surrounding unrelated mechanical equipment, but there must have been some bullets that hit the armor of this snake-headed monster.

Frankimir had never seen a biochemical beast in armor, and it seemed that no one would deliberately create their own future for the biochemical beast. Whether it is a biochemical beast or a biochemical soldier, except for the large beasts that can be used as bases and warships, other small biochemical beasts are not expensive to manufacture, but they have high technical requirements.

Therefore, the production of biochemical beasts is more focused on the meticulous and professional high-level technology, rather than the financial problem of making biochemical beasts. The research and development process of biochemical beasts may be long and require a large amount of financial support, but the manufacture of biochemical beasts does not cost much money.

This is like zombies, cultivating and developing zombie viruses is not a simple and easy thing, maybe those biochemists have spent ten or twenty years, or longer, in the first development of zombie viruses, but after cultivating zombie viruses, it becomes very easy to create zombies, which does not even require any other costs.

There is no need for additional phone bills, and only the zombie virus itself is needed to turn a city that plagues people into a zombie camp.

It is precisely because of this characteristic that in the long run, no one will go to create weapons specifically for biochemical beasts, because the cost of any weapon made for biochemical beasts is more expensive than the price of making biochemical beasts themselves, so people are more willing to use these funds to expand the number of biochemical beasts into a biochemical army, rather than tailoring weapons for one or a few biochemical beasts.

This is almost a common attempt at the military-industrial industry, and Frank Mimir has naturally heard a lot, although he was born in the Soviet Union of mechanical heavy industry.

Unlike mechas, which pursue perfect technology and absolute tactical strength, the biochemical beasts of the biochemical country pursue absolute numerical superiority.

The Soviet "Kirov" advocated that there were only three mechas, and the total plan was to produce only eight. However, the United States already has 15 "Manta Ray Aircraft Carriers", Britain has 21 "Royal Scarabs", and France has already exceeded 100 "Tyrannosaurus Chariots".

These are all card weapons of various countries, but there is a very obvious gap between the two camps in terms of quantity, but this is not enough to show that a small number of armed mecha is not the opponent of a large number of biochemical beasts, and what armed mecha pursues has never been overwhelming. (To be continued.) )