Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

He said this, and then thrust hard. Emily's scream echoed throughout the hall, but her punishment was far from over.

Emily will die, undeniably die, but before her death, she will surely suffer the same torment as those she has harmed.

The killers strolled through the auditorium, selecting their prey.

They are the embodiment of the London serial killers; they can smell the 'murder' and 'harm' on these people, so their judgments are more just and effective than any judge's.

And the only law they support is retaliation in kind.

A life for a life, it's only right and proper.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth

The girl who poured sequins on Harley's head was held down by two serial killers. They stuffed sequins into her mouth, handful after handful, until she choked and her eyes rolled back.

"Do you like sequins? Eat more."

The boy who tied Harley to the flagpole was chased all over the place by the serial killer. The faster he ran, the slower the killer chased—like a cat chasing a mouse. Finally, he ran until his legs cramped, he collapsed to the ground, and the killer dragged him into a corner. No one knows what happened in the corner, but from that moment on, he was never able to stand up and walk again.

The equipment of everyone taking photos and videos disappeared from their hands, replaced by knives. The killers shredded their devices to pieces, and some even had their fingers severed. One by one, like slicing sausages.

Those who find joy in recording the suffering of others should also record their own suffering.

Finally, even those who were bystanders, who didn't participate but laughed loudly—they weren't spared either.

They were spared the death penalty and the mutilation of their limbs, but they could not escape the same kind of revenge, an eye for an eye.

The murderers walked up to them, said nothing, just stared at them intently.

Then those people stopped looking terrified and started laughing.

It wasn't just happy laughter; it was unstoppable laughter. They laughed until they couldn't breathe, until tears and snot streamed down their faces, until they knelt on the ground, convulsing, until they wet their pants—but they just couldn't stop.

If you like to laugh, then laugh to your heart's content!

Laughter, cries, screams, and pleas for mercy mingled together, echoing through the blood-soaked auditorium.

Someone knelt down; it wasn't just one person, it was many people.

They knelt before Harley, before that thin, unremarkable girl in a faded floral dress and wearing duct-bound glasses.

"Potter! Potter, please! Spare me!"

"I'll never do it again! I'll never laugh at you again!"

"We're classmates! We're classmates!"

Harley looked at them. She saw Chris rolling on the ground, covering his face, and Emily crying like a baby while clutching her broken hand. She saw the boys and girls who had been so arrogant moments before crawling at her feet like insects.

Only now did she seem to awaken from a dream, realizing what had happened before her. She saw the blood everywhere and the terrifying, materialized horde of killers.

Harley smiled, a joyful smile spreading across the girl's slightly pale face. It was as if a long-suppressed weight had been lifted from her heart, as if she had finally found release from all burdens!

Seeing these people's pathetic state, witnessing their former pride, vanity, and cruelty shattered in the face of fear, Harley felt nothing but immense pleasure at seeing these self-righteous oppressors reduced to such a wretched state!

And—the joy of this unique, special power of one's own.

Who am I? Who gave me this power? Was last night just a dream?

There were many and complicated issues, but Harley didn't care about any of them at that moment.

She simply felt so...happy and relaxed at this moment, with her daily life so easily shattered by him.

Perhaps this is the kind of life she should be living.

Break free from this nauseating ordinariness and step into a completely new world, different from reality and unlike anything ever seen before.

On the path to godhood, there must be killing, killing, killing! :293. The evil fog will perish and vanish with the dawn of London (From hell)

And then this bizarre thing happened right away.

When the routine of daily life is shattered, some people panic and feel helpless, while others feel immense joy and delight at the retreat of all that is tedious.

Harley Porter might be an example of this.

She knew that if she were caught and imprisoned for what she had done, she would probably be sentenced to life imprisonment. Of course, because she was a minor, the outcome was uncertain.

But she's more likely to be pulled in to do research or something; in short, everyday life is completely cut off from her!

But so what? Was that something to be happy about or to cherish for Harley?

She's not at the age where she automatically romanticizes her past memories.

A serial killer approached; it was a shadowy figure wearing a top hat and a black suit. He stood before Harley and asked in a pleasant, deep voice...

"How are you, child? How are you feeling?"

Harley blinked, looking curiously at the shadow in front of her.

"So you're the one who gave me this...power?"

"It's not a gift; this is a present I'm giving you." He paused, then said with a smile.

"We have so much to say to each other, and I am watching you right now, even though I am not here... Well, enough with the riddles, now, my child, you..."

421 >>

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422

There is another, more pressing problem that needs to be addressed.

Harley looked up and, through the blood mist and the windows of the auditorium, saw the flashing red and blue lights outside.

"Child," the shadow said again, "do you want to see true power?"

Harley looked down at the black card in her hand.

The image on the card changed. The previously blurry lines became clear, revealing the silhouette of a woman—no, not a woman, but a demon. Twisted horns, shattered wings, and countless struggling souls entwined around her.

"Release it," the voice said. "Release this card, Jack the Ripper. Born from the darkness of London, the malice of humanity, the collection of all sins and curses, a spirit that is not a spirit of heroes."

"Remember my name, Tsugumi."

"Although I'm not here now, but thirteen years ago, as long as we get rid of that cockroach that got in, we'll be able to see each other soon, my dear daughter~~~~"

Harley gripped the card tightly, not taking the unknown entity's incomprehensible words to heart. After all, she didn't have the brains to think about these words that were either full of information or simply trying to take advantage of her.

Harley caught a glimpse of Dudley, who was curled up on the ground clutching his stomach, his face pale with fright. He was the only one here who hadn't been punished.

Although he was hit many times by the killer's clone, the injuries were not serious.

"Dali, cousin." She walked up to Dali, stared at her terrified cousin, her pink lips slightly upturned in a bright smile, and knelt down to pinch his chubby cheeks.

"Since you helped me out, let's call it even."

“Go back and tell your mother I’m leaving and I’m not coming back. As for you—I suggest you lose some weight and change this bullying habit, otherwise—”

"If I encounter something like this again, and meet someone like me, I might not be able to get through it so easily and effortlessly like I have."

After saying that, she watched Dali run away in a panic, while she stood up and unceremoniously ripped a suit and pants off a boy of similar build next to her. She quickly took off her skirt, which made it difficult to move around, and crushed the flowers on her chest to pieces on the ground.

She looked much sharper and more capable in a suit, especially when she tied her messy hair into a ponytail at the back of her head.

The police cordon outside the door had already formed by the time she changed her clothes. Searchlight beams pierced the fog, sweeping across the outside. A muffled voice came through a loudspeaker:

"Listen up, you inside! You are surrounded! Release the hostages and lay down your weapons!"

Weapons? She had nothing in her hands. Only this card, only this power, only these murderers who emerged from her shadow.

"set off!"

Clutching the card, she pushed open the door with that carefree and unconventional expression.

She didn't know what the future held, or what kind of world awaited her—whether it would be good or bad, terrible or beautiful.

But no matter what, she has gotten rid of the past that disgusted her, and whatever the future holds, she can accept it—let's go and embrace the new world that belongs to her!

With light steps, Harley walked out of the auditorium and through the door. She saw police cars surrounding her and police officers with guns at their sides.

"Hey kid! What happened in there?"

A kind-hearted police officer thought Harley was also a victim, so he came up to take her to a safe place.

"I did it." She blinked and smiled.

She casually tossed Emily's body to the ground. The body that had once worn a silver dress and stood so proudly now resembled a tattered doll. The angles at which her limbs were twisted would make any medical student frown. Her mouth was torn open to her ears, like an exaggerated clown smile, the way she used to smile at Harley.

“I said,” Harley’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clearly heard by every police officer present, “that I did it.”

The air froze for half a second, then the policeman's face changed from shock to ferocity, to professional instinct. He abruptly raised his sidearm, pointed it at Harley, and placed his finger on the trigger.

"Hands up! Lie down on the ground! Don't move!"

"Put down your weapons and release the hostages!"

More police officers surrounded her from behind. The beams of searchlight pierced the blood mist, shining directly on Harley. The light stretched her shadow long, casting it on the ground and the wall—something writhing and struggling within that shadow, trying to break free.

At least twenty guns were pointed at her; if they all pulled the trigger at the same time, they would surely have blown Harley to smithereens.

A weapon? She looked down at her hands. They were empty, except for a black card held between her fingers. The demonic image on the card shimmered a dark red light under the searchlight, as if it were breathing.

“Weapons?” she said softly, as if talking to herself. “I don’t have any weapons.”

She held the card up to her eyes and examined it closely under the light.

Does this count?

No sooner had he finished speaking than the first policeman pulled the trigger.

It wasn't the kind cop—he was still hesitating, his finger trembling on the trigger. It was another one, younger, his head spinning with adrenaline. The gunshot exploded in the night sky like a thunderclap.

The bullet aimed straight for Harley's forehead. Then—it stopped.

It stopped three inches in front of her brow, hovering in the air, slowly rotating. The bullet still carried the residual warmth of the gun barrel, emitting a faint red glow in the blood mist.

Harley's finger stopped in front of the bullet; she was still amazed and incredulous at the power she possessed.

"You really want to kill me, don't you?" She looked at the police officers, confirming again and again.

Bang bang bang bang bang—a dozen pistols and two shotguns rained down bullets like a storm. The flashes of fire illuminated the night, and the smell of gunpowder mingled with the bloody mist.

Then, all the bullets stopped.

They hovered around Harley, a dense mass, like a swarm of fireflies frozen in time. The lead pellets of the shrapnel scattered, forming a metallic net in the air. The beams of the searchlight pierced through the bullets, casting dappled shadows on Harley.

“A witch…” some policemen murmured in disbelief, while many others made the sign of the cross and murmured about Jesus.