Chapter 428 A Shattered Mindset!

Then...

In just a few moments...

Inside the vast factory building used for "breaking in" the "piglets"...

Every single one of those fierce-looking thugs, who had just been brandishing belts and short clubs...

...fell to the ground, one by one.

Immediately after, the entire space fell into a silence that was eerie to the extreme.

No more cursing in the local dialect.

No more of those chilling, dull thuds of belts striking flesh.

Lifeless bodies were scattered haphazardly across the aisles and at the entrances of the passageways.

Crimson blood continuously gushed from the clean wounds.

It spread out, following the textures of the floor.

...

At the entrance of the foyer.

The despairing young woman remained in a slumped position, having fallen backward.

She sat paralyzed in a puddle of muddy water, her hands still making frantic clawing motions in the air.

At this moment...

It felt as if the thoughts in her brain had been instantly drained away.

Her gaze slowly traveled upward from the military boots of the long-haired guard.

The two demons who had been leering shamelessly just moments ago, threatening to drag her into the abyss...

...had now become two corpses gradually losing their warmth.

They lay fallen less than half a meter away from her.

In their wide-open eyes, the pride and contempt of the previous second still remained.

The young woman stopped her crying and screaming, her mouth hanging wide open.

She even thought she was experiencing some kind of near-death hallucination.

Trembling, she reached out a mud-stained hand and cautiously placed it beneath the nostrils of one of the guards.

No breath.

Not even a hint of warmth.

After confirming this fact, she jerked her hand back as if she had received an electric shock.

Her chest heaved violently as she gasped for air.

Not far away...

The professional boxer, who had already squeezed his eyes shut, prepared to feel a bullet pierce his skull...

...slowly opened his eyes.

He felt the cold sensation of the metal gun barrel that had been pressed against his forehead slowly dissipating.

He lowered his head.

Danto, the insufferably arrogant little ringleader of the "breaking-in" process, was lying at his feet like a tattered sack.

The pitch-black automatic pistol had fallen into a pool of blood nearby.

The boxer swallowed a mouthful of dry saliva, his gaze landing on the bloody hole in Danto's neck.

His years in the ring and experience on the streets told him...

That kind of through-and-through wound, with its smooth edges and no torn flesh, was definitely not something an ordinary automatic rifle or pistol bullet could cause.

It required a terrifying muzzle velocity that surpassed the norm and absolutely precise penetrating power.

He looked up.

His gaze swept across the other areas of the large factory.

The guards standing in the corners, by the passageways, and even those who had been pointing guns at other victims...

...had all died in the same manner.

There had been no warning, not a single gunshot.

This unknown and invisible killing force caused even this tough guy, who was used to bloodshed, to feel a surge of lingering fear.

...

Meanwhile, in another puddle of muddy water...

The young man who had his ribs kicked in and was coughing up blood...

...struggled to prop up his upper body with his elbows, spitting out a mouthful of bitter, blood-streaked fluid.

Through his blurred vision, he desperately searched for his girlfriend.

When he saw her sitting unharmed at the entrance of the passageway, and that the guards who had intended to violate her were all dead...

He was completely stunned.

It wasn't just them.

All the tortured people present were dumbfounded at this moment.

The crowd of victims remained in their previous state of trembling.

It was as if everyone had been hit with a freezing spell.

They were as still as wooden chickens.

They simply couldn't understand what had happened before their eyes.

No rescue teams had charged in, and no armed helicopters were circling overhead.

The evil spirits who had oppressed them had just died inexplicably.

The factory was so quiet that only the rhythmic dripping of water from the leaking roof could be heard.

The air seemed to have frozen.

After a full few minutes...

Finally, someone grew bold enough to gently nudge the body of a nearby guard with their toe.

Once they confirmed the person was truly dead...

It was unknown who it was...

...but in that extremely quiet atmosphere...

...with teeth chattering and a trembling voice, they voiced the question that was in everyone's hearts.

"This? What on earth is going on?"

...

"What on earth is going on?"

At the same time...

In a detached villa located in the most core, secure zone of the entire scam park...

...which was exquisitely decorated...

...in the large master bedroom on the second floor, expensive handmade Persian carpets covered the floor.

The Park Director of the scam park murmured in disbelief.

As it turned out...

He had originally been having a good time in the bedroom with several female companions.

But...

Suddenly...

He felt an inexplicable sense of dread.

The heart in his chest skipped a beat without warning, and then began to beat wildly and irregularly.

A chill rising from the soles of his feet instantly traveled through his entire body.

This was an intuition unique to an outlaw like him.

He had a premonition that something was about to happen.

...

Without any hesitation...

He didn't even bother to put on the sheepskin slippers by the bed.

Barefoot, stepping on the soft carpet...

...he rushed out of the bedroom in a hurry.

Passing through a hallway lined with expensive artworks, he jogged all the way to the room at the very end.

He ran into the spacious study.

In this study, which served as the central brain of the entire park...

...the computer allowed him to view the internal surveillance of every part of the park without any blind spots.

Gasping for breath, he lunged toward the large executive desk.

The fingers holding the mouse turned white from the excessive force.

With rapid clicks, he pulled up the feeds from various locations.

Then...

He saw a scene that filled him with horror.

In the spacious study...

The cold light from the screen hit his face, which was gradually losing its color.

He stared unblinkingly at the situation on the surveillance screens.

The images were zoomed in and enlarged.

He clearly saw his subordinates falling one by one without warning.

Dozens of well-equipped core thugs, usually responsible for suppressing riots, were all lying dead on the spot.

No muzzle flashes from a firefight.

No chaos from a mob riot.

Those riot shields and automatic rifles didn't even have a chance to be raised.

This completely contradicted his common-sense understanding of armed conflict.

...

If a special forces unit had attacked, he would at least see tactical formations or traces of smoke grenades.

If it were a gang vendetta, he would see the wreckage from RPGs or heavy machine gun fire.

But there was nothing on the surveillance.

Only one-sided death.

That silent question of "What's going on?" was stuck firmly in his throat.

His expression was hideous to the extreme, even taking on a deathly ashen-white hue.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down with difficulty, yet he couldn't swallow a single drop of saliva.

At this moment, he was trembling all over as if he had a fit of the ague.

His legs completely lost the strength to support his body, and he could only slump dejectedly into the leather executive chair.

Large beads of cold sweat broke out.

They poured down his forehead and temples, instantly soaking the collar of his expensive silk pajamas.

With a trembling hand, he held the mouse and continued to switch between other camera channels.

Trying to find the hidden killer in the shadows.

What terrified him even more was the new change occurring on the surveillance screen.

At this moment...

The screen jumped to the perimeter of the core residential area.

He saw the scene outside the park villa where he was located—his private sanctuary.

The heavy rain was still pouring down frantically.

Those wearing rainproof tactical vests and carrying assault rifles...

...leading ferocious hunting dogs...

...the patrol personnel of the final security line responsible for the perimeter.

These were elite mercenaries he had spent a fortune on, men who had truly been on the battlefield.

However...

In the green, night-vision-enabled images on the screen...

He witnessed these elites falling one by one in the heavy rain without any resistance.

Not even a single warning whistle was blown.

They just went down straight, thud after thud.

Even the keen hunting dogs they were leading slumped to the ground along with them.

Their life signs vanished instantly in the rain.

...

That invisible harvesting force was crossing the distance of space.

From the "breaking-in" factory hundreds of meters away, it had spread all the way to right under his nose.

The Grim Reaper was closing in on him.

That sense of suffocation from being locked onto by an absolute power made him open his mouth wide, trying to gasp for air.

He wanted to stand up and run.

But his body felt as if the bones had been removed, and he could only slump in his chair, trembling.

And at that moment...

Amidst the howling wind and rain outside the villa...

There was a crisp crack.

The sound wasn't particularly loud, but it was abrupt.

Right on the side of the study.

The bulletproof glass at a certain location in the villa seemed to have been heavily shattered instantly by something moving at extreme speed.

Countless tiny glass shards exploded outward in a radial pattern, swept into the room along with the rain from outside.

And what was also shattering was his state of mind.