Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Shen Hanzhou sensed that he was hanging on the railing and gently flicked it with the tip of his right finger.

The iron railing was disassembled in the palm of my hand; the iron-carbon alloy metal bonds broke, and the railing crumbled into iron-gray powder from the base.

The railing that Sniper B was holding suddenly turned to dust and slipped through his fingers.

He fell backward from a height of ten meters, landing on his back.

His spine made a crisp sound as it struck the edge of the broken bricks. He struggled to get up, but his legs wouldn't obey him.

Two snipers on the water tower witnessed the entire collapse of the guard tower.

Through their scope, they saw the walls turn to dust and peel away from the skeleton, and they saw two companions, one with a broken leg and the other with a fractured spine.

The two climbed down the water tower at the same time.

Shen Hanzhou sensed that they were evacuating.

The water tower was a concrete structure, but he did not dismantle it.

There are no other targets in the water tower, so destroying it won't kill anyone.

The two snipers had climbed to the bottom of the water tower and were running towards the railway.

Shen Hanzhou withdrew his right hand, thinking to himself: You're lucky to be alive. Thirty-two out of forty people died; that's enough to give Yan Tingyao a hard time.

He turned and walked toward the main entrance of the slaughterhouse.

As dawn broke through the horizon, the greyish-white morning light shone on the collapsed area outside the main gate of the slaughterhouse.

Shen Hanzhou walked to the edge of the collapsed area and stood still, his shoes landing on the cement fragments.

His figure cast a long, thin shadow in the morning light, falling beside the heads tilted to the ground at the edge of the collapsed pit.

He faced the abandoned railway, took a deep breath, and spoke.

His voice pierced through the morning light, through the dust of the collapsed area, and through the gravel roadbed beside the railway.

The news reached the ears of the eight people on the railway.

"Listen up, members of the Five Sacred Mountains Society."

All eight people looked up at the same time. The team leader climbed up from the railway tracks, his knees still shaking.

"Forty people came, and thirty-two stayed. The eight of you who are alive are not letting you go, but there is no cement under your feet, so I can't demolish it for the time being."

Shen Hanzhou's tone was very flat, exactly the same as when he told Lao Yan three years ago, "Next time, give me the actual price."

"But go back and tell Yan Tingyao—Jiang Yi will die tonight. He'll be next."

He paused for a second.

"No matter how many men he sends, I'll kill them all. If he's got the guts, he should come himself. Stop sending his men to pay the price."

After saying that, he turned around and disappeared into the shadows of the slaughterhouse.

Behind them, from the direction of the railway, came the team leader's suppressed sobs, and the team members' incoherent mutterings.

On the abandoned railway, the team leader dialed Yan Tingyao's number with trembling hands.

The phone rang twice, then I answered it.

Yan Tingyao's voice was cold and restrained: "You caught them?"

The team leader's voice sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper, each word trembling and choked with sobs: "Mr. Yan—forty people—only eight left—"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

Yan Tingyao's voice suddenly deepened: "What did you say?"

The team leader cried, speaking between sobs, his face streaked with snot and tears: "He dismantled the ground beneath our feet from two hundred meters away—dismantled the underground cement foundation—the soil collapsed—ten men on the first line of defense—six men on the second line of defense—six men at the back door—five more died trying to escape—all thirty-two were sealed in cement—only their heads were sticking out—the six at the back door were sealed in the same large cement block—"

Yan Tingyao interrupted him, his voice as cold as a blade cutting through ice: "Is he injured? Is he exhausted?"

The team leader froze, his lips moving slightly: "No—I don't know—we didn't even see his face—he finished clearing the perimeter, came out of the slaughterhouse, said a few words, and went back—he was going to kill Jiang Yi—he didn't even consider us his primary target—"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

The call went on so long that the team leader thought the phone had been disconnected.

Yan Tingyao spoke, his voice icy cold: "Eight survivors, bring them back. Take all the bodies you can carry back; don't leave a single one for headquarters. Clean up all traces at the scene. Burn that collapsed area. Detonate that large concrete block. Don't let headquarters' technical team analyze anything from the wreckage."

The team leader's lips trembled: "Blow it up—blow it up? What about the bodies of our brothers—"

"Their remains are already evidence. Do you need me to teach you what to do?"

The phone hangs up.

The team leader slumped on the railway tracks, clutching his phone.

The eastern sky grew brighter, and the morning light shone on his face, which was covered in snot and tears.

He had only one thought in his mind: he said he would kill as many people as he wanted if he sent them, and every word he said was true.

Shen Hanzhou walked back to the main building of the slaughterhouse and stood outside the cold storage gate.

The cold storage door was welded shut, and three layers of welding rods were piled up in the door seam, with dark blue fish-scale-like marks from the electric arc.

The edges of the door frame were charred black from being baked at high temperatures.

He activated his sensory scanning to scan the interior of the cold storage.

Behind the airtight door was a gas canister, and the canister was connected to a solenoid valve.

At the corner of the corridor, seven tripwires were laid out in a fan shape at knee height.

A light machine gun was mounted at the entrance to the command room, with its muzzle pointing directly into the corridor.

Jiang Yi sat in the innermost room of the command room, clutching a pistol, his finger trembling incessantly on the trigger guard.

His face was deathly pale, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were sunken.

He was yelling something to his confidants; the sound came through the concrete, muffled but the fear in his voice was clear.

Twenty men. Triple traps. A light machine gun. Jiang Yi huddled at the very back.

Shen Hanzhou pressed his right hand against the cold storage door, thinking to himself: The Five Mountains Alliance is dealt with. Jiang Yi, now it's your turn.

He activated his power, and the molecular bonds of the steel gate began to break.

Iron-gray powder dripped down from the cracks in the door.

------

In the basement of the cold storage, Jiang Yi stared at the monitor screen.

All indicator lights in Group B are off.

All five lamps were turned off.

Just now, I heard screams and muffled thuds of the ground collapsing outside.

Jiang Yi heard it clearly—the screams gradually decreased from a group of dozens of people to just a few scattered screams, and then there was complete silence.

He gripped the walkie-talkie tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Hold the line on the perimeter!"

Jiang Yi roared into the walkie-talkie.

"Weld the cold storage door shut! Set up the machine gun in the corridor! He can't get in!"

He shouts loudly, but he's terrified inside.

He didn't know how many people from the Five Mountains Alliance had come, but judging from the commotion outside, they were all dead.

Shen Hanzhou first killed the outer sentries, then the Five Mountains Society, and now it's his turn.

Jiang Yi turned to his confidant and said, "He must have awakened some kind of ability."

"Fang Li and six others died at his hands, and dozens of members of the Five Mountains Society died outside."

"But even the strongest abilities have their limits."

He pointed to the floor of the cold storage.

"The cold storage floor and walls have been reinforced, and the door is made of 10-centimeter steel plates. He can't dismantle it."

"If he dares to come in, three traps await him."

His voice trembled as he said this.

He himself didn't believe it.

Is reinforcement useful?

Was the ground at the Five Sacred Mountains Meeting Point reinforced? They're all dead now.

His confidant turned pale.

"Mr. Jiang, all the members of the Five Mountains Society are dead. Should we retreat through the back door?"

"Withdraw what?!"