Chapter 425 Hidden Assassination

By the muddy puddle inside the large factory building.

The young man, beaten bloody all over, struggled to prop himself up with his hands.

He raised his dirt-covered face, looking at his compatriots ahead who were pushing back their chairs and standing up.

A flame reignited in his eyes.

The bottomless sense of despair from moments ago was largely dispelled by the shouts erupting from the crowd around him.

As long as everyone could unite, they would surely be able to save his girlfriend from these animals.

He wasn't the only one thinking this.

The young woman whose arm was grabbed by the long-haired guard also stopped crying out.

She looked back at the group of victims who were finally no longer silent, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.

Even the professional boxer who had taken the lead in standing up held his tall frame straight.

The boxer's chest heaved violently; feeling the gathered fury of the compatriots behind him, he prepared to throw a punch at any moment.

...

On the other side.

The guards standing at the edge of the passage watched these Piglets, who usually didn't even dare to breathe loudly, actually daring to revolt; disdainful sneers appeared on their faces.

The leader of the group, a minor boss responsible for disciplining the Piglets, was named Danto.

He was a dark-skinned Southeast Asian man with a face full of fatty flesh.

Danto wore a tactical vest with several holes in it, and a thick gold necklace hung around his neck.

He didn't take this crowd of unarmed people seriously at all.

In his eyes, these victims who had been lured there were nothing more than a flock of sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

Now that a few disobedient sheep in the flock wanted to bite, the solution was very simple.

And that was to make the flock understand who the butcher holding the knife was.

Danto stopped in his tracks and reached for his waist with his right hand.

His fingers expertly gripped the pitch-black automatic pistol, and his thumb flicked off the safety.

He didn't even bother to say a single word of warning.

He raised his arm directly, pointing the muzzle diagonally at the load-bearing steel frame above.

His index finger pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

A deafening gunshot exploded inside the vast steel-structured factory building.

The piercing sound waves slammed against the surrounding concrete walls, creating a series of echoes.

The fire spitting from the muzzle flashed briefly in mid-air.

A gleaming brass shell casing ejected from the port, falling onto the sewage-covered floor with a crisp clink.

...

The previously noisy factory went completely silent in an instant.

The young men who had just been holding keyboards and loudly echoing the call to fight for their lives stopped all movement instantly.

The shouting was cut off as if by the throat, coming to an abrupt halt.

The soaring fury from moments ago seemed so fragile in the face of this gunshot, which represented absolute military force.

This was the crushing sensation brought by firearms.

A pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

The dawn of resistance was ruthlessly suppressed the moment the gunshot echoed.

Danto lowered his arm, very satisfied with everyone's current reaction.

Stepping through the sewage on the floor, he carried the still-smoking pistol and walked unhurriedly toward the middle of the factory.

The few victims blocking his path scrambled out of the way to both sides in terror.

Fearing that if they moved too slowly, they would become the next target of that gun.

Danto walked straight through the crowd.

He stopped in front of the burly professional boxer.

The distance between them was less than half a meter.

The boxer's previously clenched fists were now somewhat stiff.

Danto tilted his head up slightly, looking at this Eastern Country man who was more than half a head taller than him.

A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes.

He raised his right hand.

He pressed the pitch-black muzzle firmly against the boxer's forehead.

The cold metallic sensation was transmitted through the skin.

"You're quite brave, aren't you?"

A cold smile appeared on the corner of Danto's mouth as he asked in stiff, broken Eastern Country speech.

His tone was full of contempt.

...

With the dark muzzle pressed against his head.

Feeling the hard metal barrel against his forehead.

The professional boxer's earlier courage to stand up for his compatriots was instantly extinguished.

Fine beads of cold sweat seeped from his forehead.

The sweat gathered into droplets, sliding quickly down his rugged cheeks and dripping onto his yellowed old tank top.

His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

No matter how well he could fight or how heavy his punches were, at the end of the day, he was still made of flesh and blood.

He couldn't possibly withstand a bullet fired from such a close range.

The face of his daughter on a hospital bed back home flashed through his mind.

If he died in this filthy factory today, all hope for his family's expensive surgery fees would be completely gone.

Under this fear of death and concern for his family.

The boxer's breathing became rapid.

His eyes, which had been filled with unyielding light, gradually lost their color.

His tall frame uncontrollably slouched slightly.

He slowly loosened his clenched fists.

...

The others in the factory reacted even more poorly.

The despair brought by shattered hope was even more unbearable than being in darkness from the start.

The young woman standing at the passage entrance looked at the boxer who didn't even dare to resist the gun.

Her last shred of hope vanished completely.

Her face instantly turned ashen, losing all signs of life.

She no longer shouted or kicked and struggled.

Like a puppet that had lost its soul, she allowed the long-haired guard beside her to hold her arm.

In the muddy puddle not far away.

The young man lay dazed on the ground, his fingers digging deep into the mud and sand.

Because he was exerting too much force, blood seeped from the edges of his nails.

He bit his lower lip, feeling the rusty taste spreading in his mouth.

A deep sense of powerlessness surged in his heart.

This was reality.

In the face of a gun, no matter how many ordinary people there were, they were just a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

The young men who had just stood up with the boxer were now trembling in their boots.

Their calves were shaking incessantly inside their trouser legs.

A few of them couldn't hold onto the keyboards and iron stools in their hands.

They fell to the ground with a clatter.

The bit of courage they had just gathered vanished completely the moment they saw the gun muzzle.

Everyone lowered their heads again, not even daring to look directly at the guards holding clubs.

Habitual fear once again took the upper hand.

...

Taking in the reactions of the surrounding Piglets.

The smile on Danto's face became even more insolent.

With the pistol in hand, he felt like the king in control of everything in this factory.

He thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of trampling people underfoot and kneading them at will.

This was why he liked this job.

Only by watching others tremble in fear could he satisfy the perverted desire for power deep within him.

Danto moved the muzzle away from the boxer's forehead.

He turned to face the group of shivering victims.

The hand holding the gun drew a semicircle in the air, pointing at the crowd.

"Everyone, get on your fucking knees."

He raised his voice and shouted the command.

His voice echoed in the empty factory.

It carried an air of unyielding arrogance.

Hearing these words.

The victims standing by their workstations showed a hint of humiliation on their faces.

They were adults with dignity, after all; kneeling like this still caused some internal struggle.

But when they caught a glimpse of the cold-glinting pistol in Danto's hand out of the corners of their eyes.

That meager bit of self-esteem collapsed instantly.

To stay alive, dignity was worthless here.

Someone in the crowd began to buckle under the pressure, their knees giving way.

They knelt down on the sewage-covered floor.

With the first person taking the lead.

One after another, those who had struggled for a moment began to bend their legs, preparing to submit to this brute force.

...

It was at this moment.

Outside this factory, which was suppressed to the limit by fear.

A strange sound suddenly came from outside.

Piercing through the heavy iron door and the sound of the heavy rain outside, the noise wasn't loud, but it was very muffled.

"Thud."

"Thud."

"Thud."

It was the sound of heavy objects falling defenselessly onto the muddy ground.

It rang out continuously.

Danto, who had been preparing to enjoy the sight of a bunch of Piglets kneeling collectively, frowned slightly.

As an armed leader who had lived on the edge for years, his hearing was very keen.

Danto instinctively tilted his head, moving his gaze away from the victims.

Then, he turned around, gun in hand, and glanced outside the half-open iron door of the factory.

But it was too dark outside to see anything at all.

...

At this very moment, in the outer area of this factory zone where Piglets were disciplined.

In the darkness.

The park thugs who had been patrolling with rifles or hiding behind pillars smoking and chatting.

They were undergoing a silent purge.

These tyrannical militants didn't see a single shadow of an enemy.

They only felt a slight chill between their eyebrows.

Then, their bodies completely lost all strength.

Like wheat being harvested.

One by one, under the cover of the heavy rain, they fell onto the muddy road.

Thud, thud, thud!