The flipped sedan bounced up from the ground, tumbling twice in mid-air, and just as it was about to crash to the ground, the earth on both sides of the interstate highway erupted, forming two giant mud hands that cradled the car.
Then, the soil continued to surge, rolling like waves, and after gathering together, it formed into a mud egg, completely enveloping the car inside.
Wei Tianyang hugged Fujiwara Makoto in his arms, his left foot braced against the dashboard firmly, while his back propped against the roof of the car, blood from a bruised eyebrow sliding down his cheeks.
"Is it the military?" Fujiwara Makoto said.
Wei Tianyang shook his head; he smelled a familiar scent, the smell of Spencer's usual cigarettes.
He was immediately puzzled, why? How could this be?
He smashed the windshield with one foot, controlling the mud to form a ramp, and then slid out of the car with Fujiwara Makoto in his arms.
