Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Lin Shen opened his eyes, and the light in his palm brightened a little.

The footage on the monitor screen remained stable, and the four staff members on duty were still chatting idly. Cigarette butts were thrown into the metal trash can, emitting wisps of white smoke.

Lin Shen leaned against the cold wall, adjusting his breathing rhythm to minimize the consumption of his mental energy.

He needs to conserve his strength for the final reckoning.

……

3:16.

Lin Shen received a signal from Xu Suyuan landing in his consciousness, and the pale blue seed ripples gently bumped the edge of his sea of ​​consciousness.

The life signals of the eight bodyguards were rapidly dying out, and the command center was doomed in seconds.

There's no need to save any more.

He stood up, and a burst of silvery-white light erupted from his palm.

The mental energy no longer maintained its gentle invisibility, but instead pierced the nervous systems of the four on-duty personnel like an icicle.

All four people froze at the same time.

They "saw" the images on the screen begin to distort, corpses lying haphazardly on the lawn, and dark green vines wriggling among the grass blades, coiling around the necks of the people lying on the ground like snakes.

A man in a black suit lay on the floor of the rest area, blood gushing from a bullet hole in his chest, staining the snow-white carpet red.

The staff member on duty closest to the door opened his mouth as if to shout, but only a gurgling sound like someone drowning could be heard coming from his throat.

His brain "thought" that his neck was tightly wrapped by vines, and the real feeling of suffocation overwhelmed him instantly. His face turned purplish-red, and he gripped his neck tightly with both hands, his nails digging into his flesh, and blood flowing down between his fingers.

The second person "saw" a silver coin pierce his chest. He looked down and saw no hole in his clothes or wound on his skin, but his heart had stopped beating.

He clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground, his pupils dilated, a look of horror still lingering on his face.

The third person, the fourth person.

The four people fell down one after another within five seconds, their eyes wide open, dying with their eyes still open.

Lin Shen leaned against the wall, panting heavily. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto his collar and spreading into a dark, damp patch.

His mental energy was almost depleted, but he could still hold on for a while.

He turned and walked out of the monitoring room, heading towards the guard tower.

With each step, my legs trembled, and the soles of my shoes scraped against the dust on the ground, leaving a faint mark.

Inside the guard tower, two snipers were searching for anything unusual through their scopes.

Suddenly, a scream came from the communicator from the staff member on duty in the monitoring room. It was very short, lasting only a few seconds, and then the connection was completely cut off.

The sniper abruptly turned his gun towards the monitoring room, but there was nothing in the scope except the wind rattling the glass.

An indescribable fear rose from the base of his spine, chilling him to the bone and making the hairs on his body stand on end.

"Control room? Control room, answer me!" he shouted, pressing the buttons on the communicator, but there was no response.

On another channel, the patrol team on the lawn was also shouting, their voices filled with obvious panic: "Someone's fallen over here! Vines! There are vines on the ground!"

"There's a body in the substation corridor! Lots of blood!"

"The rest area! There was a gunshot over there in the rest area! It was very brief, and then it stopped!"

All channels exploded simultaneously, a cacophony of shouts, screams, and gunshots that pierced the ears.

The sniper's finger was pressed hard on the trigger, unsure of where to aim.

They tried to contact the command center, Wang Hongyuan, and Zhong Lin, but no one answered.

The command center is finished.

Lin Shen climbed the stairs of the guard tower, each step he took firmly.

Two snipers, their backs to the entrance, were anxiously adjusting the channel, cold sweat dripping down their chins.

He raised his right hand, palm facing the back of the two men's heads.

A silvery-white light shone forth, like two faint beams of light, precisely piercing the nervous systems of the two people.

The snipers froze simultaneously.

They "saw" that the other person's face had transformed into the face of Liu Zhen, the wanted criminal who controlled electricity, and that the arc of electricity in the other person's hand was already lit up, about to surge onto them in the next second.

Both men pulled the trigger at the same time.

Bullets from a large-caliber anti-materiel sniper rifle pierced each other's chests, the enormous impact slamming their bodies against the wall of the guard tower. Blood splattered on the transparent observation window, flowing down the glass and leaving dark red streaks.

The body fell from the watchtower, landing on the grass with a dull thud.

Lin Shen leaned against the railing of the guard tower, looking down at the chaotic horse farm below.

On the lawn, Meng Zhaowen's vines were chasing the scattered patrol team. Some people screamed and ran towards the gate of the horse farm. The vines chased after them from behind, wrapped around their ankles, and dragged them to the ground and back into the depths of the lawn.

Outside the substation, Liu Zhen's electric arc flickered in the dim light; each time it lit up, a guard fell down.

The enemy no longer has a commander.

They didn't know where to run or where to fight.

Some were shouting "retreat!", others were shouting "support!", but no one listened to anyone; everyone was running around like headless flies.

Lin Shen's lips twitched slightly.

The teacher's revenge, and the seven researchers' revenge, can all be avenged today.

------

3:17.

Liu Zhen walked out of the substation corridor. The wound on his left shoulder had reopened, and blood had soaked half of his clothes, dripping down his arm and onto the ground, spreading out in small, dark red patterns.

He ran into seven or eight guards who were fleeing down from the direction of the lawn. When they saw Liu Zhen, they raised their guns and pointed them at his chest.

Liu Zhen did not dodge.

He stood still, a thick, dark blue arc of electricity shooting up from his fingertips. The arc didn't travel in a straight line; instead, it spread rapidly along the damp grass.

The grass, still damp from being freshly watered, is an excellent conductor of heat.

Seven or eight people were struck by electric current at the same time. Their bodies convulsed violently, their guns fell to the ground, and they fell straight into the water. Their skin was blackened by the electric shock and emitted a burnt smell.

Liu Zhen stepped over their corpses and continued walking forward.

The soles of my shoes splashed through the puddles, creating tiny water droplets.

The song my wife hummed while chopping vegetables in the kitchen flashed through my mind; the tune was very soft, like a lullaby to lull a child to sleep.

He still doesn't know the name of that song. He only remembers that every time he came home from get off work, he would hear this song coming from the kitchen as soon as he opened the door. His favorite braised pork was on the table, and his son would run over with a pinwheel in his hand, jump into his arms, and the pinwheel would spin loudly. His little mouth, missing a front tooth, would call out "Dad."

He blinked, forcing back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

Three years.

From the day his wife and son were carried out of the accident scene, he dreamed every night of the severed brake line, of his wife bleeding and calling his name, and of his son with his eyes open, still clutching the unfinished windmill in his hand.

Today, all the scores should be settled.