116: Chapter 116 Pikachu Goes Berserk and Electrocutes a Special Forces Squad

The air in the courtyard suddenly became eerily quiet.

It was the kind of silence that precedes a storm, like the deathly stillness before the final, muffled thunderclap.

The captain of the American "Ghost Squad" was still maintaining his crouching, capturing posture.

His large hand, clad in a top-tier tactical insulating glove, had tightly clamped onto the back of the yellow furball's neck.

It felt soft.

And quite warm.

"Hmph, got you."

The captain's lips curled into a disdainful sneer.

What S-class threat? What biological weapon?

Under his iron-clamp-like hands, even a King Cobra would have to coil up obediently.

Those old geezers at the intelligence agency must truly be senile to be scared out of their wits by a mouse.

"Mission accomplished, retreating."

He whispered the order into his microphone, applied force to his wrist, and prepared to stuff this "dazed" adorable creature into the shielding bag.

However...

At that very moment he applied force.

He didn't see it, but in those big, innocent-looking, glistening eyes, a trace of extremely human-like—brutality—suddenly flashed.

That was the monstrous rage of an apex predator from the Wasteland, offended by an inferior being.

In that world of rampant radiation and monsters, this little guy, known as the "Thunderstorm Demon Mouse," survived by gnawing on mutated Steel Wolves and melting mechas.

Now, some two-legged beast that hadn't even grown its hair out dared to grab it by the scruff of its neck?

And wanted to put it in a bag?

"Pika..."

A low, deep growl, as if squeezed from the depths of its throat, sounded.

This sound was no longer soft and cute.

It was like the screech of a high-energy capacitor charging rapidly.

The captain froze.

He suddenly felt the tactile sensation in his hand was wrong.

The originally soft fur instantly became as hard and upright as steel needles.

And that originally warm body temperature soared to a scalding level in 0.01 seconds.

"Fuck?"

The captain cursed subconsciously.

Before he could react to what this meant.

The yellow furball he was holding in mid-air suddenly tilted its head back and opened its little mouth, which was actually filled with fine, sharp teeth.

The red electrical sacs on both sides of its cheeks instantly erupted with a blue-white light ten thousand times more blinding than the midday sun.

"Pika—!!!"

Boom—!!!

There was no time for anyone to react.

A thick pillar of lightning, like a water barrel, centered on this "mouse," exploded wildly in all directions.

That wasn't ordinary static electricity.

That was 100,000-volt high-voltage plasma capable of instantly piercing tank armor and melting special alloys!

"Zzzzzzt—!"

The sound of the current was no longer a crisp snapping, but turned into a terrifying, teeth-grinding screech like ten million birds screaming.

The first to bear the brunt was that unlucky captain.

He didn't even have time to let out a scream.

The tactical glove, claimed to be able to withstand 2,000 volts, vaporized the instant it touched the plasma.

Immediately after, the violent current followed his arm, drilled into his body without obstruction, instantly pierced his heart, scorched his nerves, and finally exploded out from the soles of his feet, shattering his expensive tactical boots.

But that wasn't the end.

Current conducts.

To maintain silent communication, the five members of this "Ghost Squad" were connected to each other via a physical data cable on their tactical vests to share their field of vision.

At this moment, this data cable, originally intended to save their lives, became their death warrant.

"Ah!!!"

"God! What is this?!"

"Help! I'm on fire!"

The remaining four agents only felt a whiteness before their eyes, followed by heart-wrenching pain.

The blue arcs of electricity, like living venomous snakes, followed the connecting cables and instantly darted onto everyone.

In the villa's courtyard, a stunning "human neon light show" was performed.

Five fully armed top-tier agents twitched violently under the stimulation of the high current, as if doing a breakdance.

Their hair stood up on end, turning into exaggerated afros.

Their high-tech equipment—night vision goggles, communicators, drone jammers—all smoked, short-circuited, and exploded amidst a series of crackling sounds.

The air was quickly filled with a strong, charred smell of barbecue.

Even the lawn in the courtyard was plowed with a circle of charred marks by the overflowing current.

This one-sided slaughter lasted for a full five seconds.

Five seconds later.

"Pfft."

Pikachu spat out a puff of black smoke, seemingly having vented its morning grumpiness.

It shook the fur on its body, retracted the electric light on its cheeks, and turned back into that soft, cute yellow furball.

And those five once-arrogant "Ghost" agents.

At this moment, they were like five pieces of charcoal just dug out of a coal mine.

They were pitch black, still emitting wisps of blue smoke, and remained frozen in place in various twisted postures.

Then.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Five muffled thuds.

The five people fell neatly onto the grass like falling dominoes, no longer moving.

Deathly silence.

The courtyard returned to a deathly stillness.

Only the fountain continued to flow tirelessly, making a splashing sound.

"Creak—"

The villa door was pushed open.

Jiang Chen walked out slowly in his pajamas, holding a cup of unfinished coffee.

Behind him followed Zhao Gang, who was holding a gun but had a dazed expression.

"Tsk tsk tsk."

Jiang Chen walked up to the pile of "charcoal," reached out with his toe, and kicked the captain's butt.

It was hard.

Crispy and charred.

"This heat is a bit overdone."

Jiang Chen shook his head, looking disappointed.

"I told you to pay attention to electrical safety, but you wouldn't listen. Now look, it's cooked through."

He turned his head to look at Pikachu, who was squatting on a lounge chair, licking its paws innocently, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with it.

"Pika?"

The little guy blinked its big eyes, tilted its head at Jiang Chen, and even raised a little paw, seemingly asking for praise.

The meaning was clear:

Look, I didn't run around, I chased the bad guys away, am I a good baby?

Jiang Chen sighed helplessly.

He walked over, picked up this extremely dangerous "good baby," and flicked its forehead:

"Pay attention next time."

"This is Earth, not the Wasteland."

"Although these people are annoying, they are carbon-based organisms after all, and they aren't resistant to electricity."

"Remember to lower the voltage next time. Just paralyze them; don't make them so charred, it's hard to clean up."

"Pika!"

Pikachu nodded obediently and burrowed into Jiang Chen's arms.

Behind him, Zhao Gang watched this scene, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty.

He looked at the five world-class agents on the ground who no longer looked like humans.

He looked again at the yellow mouse acting cute in Jiang Chen's arms.

Finally, he cast his gaze toward his boss, who was calm and even still drinking coffee.

Zhao Gang suddenly felt that compared to this mouse, his boss was the most terrifying—S-class monster.

"Old Zhao."

Jiang Chen finished his last sip of coffee and pointed at the mess on the ground, his tone as relaxed as if he were talking about taking out the trash:

"Call the police."

"Just say... a few foreign tourists climbed over the wall in the middle of the night to steal things."

"And they had bad luck and stepped on a high-voltage line."

"Remember, be sure to emphasize—"

A mischievous glint flashed in Jiang Chen's eyes:

"This was an accident."

"Purely an accident."