He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

Chapter 87 Snake

On Kane Street, gunshots rang out suddenly in the middle of the night, which was not uncommon, but rather commonplace.

"Boss."

Half a street away, atop a towering building, through a massive floor-to-ceiling window, the beast-like girl gazed at the scene of the fire and whispered, "Should I clean up this?"

Although she could neither see nor hear, in her keen intuition, the "invisible outline" that had already taken shape stood out like a bright light in the night.

At such a short distance, the ripples constantly spreading in the red pool were no longer a question for the Child of Darkness—Xiao Qi quietly looked in that direction, her brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

—The stability of the red liquid in the region is still declining.

If this continues, that "disgusting thing" might actually manage to crawl into the nest—

"No rush."

With his legs propped up on the desk, the muscular man—half his body slumped back in his tall chair—yawned upon hearing this and casually remarked, "The cult leader is having a heart-to-heart talk with his followers—why rush to disturb him?"

"But, boss—"

Xiao Qi hesitated for a moment, and although she continued speaking, she still showed some doubt.

Ai knew perfectly well what was puzzling her—she felt that the "Holy Throne" was dead. After all, wild esotericists didn't have a systematic mystical power, and even the concept of "ascension" was vague.

That cult leader practiced haphazardly, and although it's unclear what level he belongs to, his combat power is definitely inferior to the Foundation's Tilt Agent Specialist—such a weakling would die if he were hit by a barrage of bullets.

But Ai didn't think it would be that easy to kill him.

"Don't underestimate them. After all, this is essentially a holy war."

Ai narrowed her eyes and chuckled, "Although you checkmated them right off the bat, they've managed to build up such a large operation here—the amount of flesh and souls they've accumulated is considerable."

He squinted, tapped the armrest of the seat lightly with his fingers, and then awkwardly grabbed a cigar that looked expensive from the side and put it in his mouth.

"So let him struggle a little longer—the way carnivores hunt is by chasing and entanglement—I will use his former strength to inflict wounds on him, slowly drain his blood, until his wounds rot."

Ai said in a low voice, "When his courage and confidence have both decayed, it will be about time."

Waiting for hope to be shattered.

Waiting for the resolve to melt away.

The rioters will then put their final struggle on stage and put on a hysterical performance.

"I'm happy to see this too." Ai closed her eyes.

"I understand, boss."

Xiao Qi walked over and obediently tried to light the cigar in his hand. "Tsk—" Ai Yi had already closed his eyes, but now he had to open them again. He reluctantly put out the cigarette he had just lit. He insisted on not doing bad things in front of children. At the same time, there was a knock on the door of the office in the high-rise building.

"Come in."

Ai didn't even bother to adjust his posture. He watched as the door was gently pulled open, and a disciple wearing a "serpent emblem" on his chest cautiously walked in.

The moment his gaze fell upon "Womikoch," it was filled with piety and fervor.

"Holy See," he bowed, "your light shines eternally."

Ai nodded casually, and the disciple continued, "According to your revelation, one of our most devout followers has gone to meet that pagan guest—and sure enough, those pagans who have not been bathed in the teachings of the light do not understand your mercy and forgiveness at all—so we have no choice but to dissolve them into pure white with our own hands."

"Mercy—" Ai smiled slightly, "can only be found in the shadows."

"Thank you for your guidance."

The disciples bowed their heads to the ground, saying, "Those unruly heretics will not be an obstacle to us, Holy See. We will fill our execution ground with their flesh and blood and let them be forever immersed in pure white."

He said firmly, then walked backward out the door, leaving behind the words: "Please witness us."

T

The silence did not last long.

"It's so useful—fanatic."

Ai closed her eyes and chuckled, "Disciples brought in from others seem to be more useful."

—These past few days, after obtaining the image of "Womikochi", Ai has also begun his NTR "great cause", taking advantage of the Foundation's rampage on the front line to directly steal the enemy's base from behind.

To sum it up—it's absolutely amazing!

In the entire secret branch of Kann Street, there were only about ten people who had actually come into contact with the mystical power. The process of taking over was simple and brutal—Womikoch was originally the small leader in charge of this place, and the "Holy Throne" didn't bother to pass on news of his death. So, Ai, who had this face, was the person in charge here.

Leveraging Womikoch's reputation on Kann Street, a simple gathering was held, followed by a simple "usurpation."

.

With such overwhelming mystery, Ai had many options—but being somewhat fastidious, he didn't want to include these filthy cult members in the core of "Gray," so he used a slightly more complex method:

A confessional, a spell to induce them to spill their memories, followed by a charcoal correction.

He slightly modified the location of the "Holy Throne" in these people's memories and replaced it with "Womikoch" himself, and incidentally replaced the location of the "Serpent God" with "Gray".

The charcoal pencil marks are applied to the colors of ordinary people, easily covering them completely and then replacing them entirely.

In this way, Ai was promoted to be his apostle.

Incidentally, these fanatics became "consumables" that were separated from the group. They were not wasted at all and could be sent out to die at will, to destroy the heart of that "Holy Throne." They were extremely useful.

Getting hooked on role-playing games is a good example.

However—the actual performance hasn't really started yet.

Ai kicked the desk in front of him, straightened up from the padded high-backed chair, stood up, and slowly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window at the back—he looked into the distance, and heard the gunshots that were initially intense but gradually subsided.

"Looks like it's time to get in place."

He squinted, thinking that—remote areas weren't so bad after all; at least there weren't those blindingly bright neon lights or towering skyscrapers in his field of vision.

The building he was currently in was one of the most imposing on Kane Street. Being near the outskirts, law enforcement was practically a joke here—a minor leader of a secret society, openly occupying a high position—

After investigating the resources under Womikochi's control, Ai was pleasantly surprised to find that this guy was incredibly wealthy and focused more on running businesses than managing his mysterious organization: he secretly supported a bunch of underground establishments, ran the gray service industry in the area, and a considerable number of the scattered workshops and factories were also under his control.

No wonder he became a traitor—no wonder he sided with the "suburbs"—Womikoch, this guy is a complete opportunist. For him, joining the Church of St. Naraken was probably just to gain more benefits, and he had already started to find a way to get out of there.

This entrepreneur's ambitions lie elsewhere.

Ai was humming and hawing, in a very good mood.

Unfortunately, he was still eliminated; the old man made a wrong move.

—Now, it's all mine!

He opened his arms and embraced the darkness that belonged to him.

"I was just enjoying the process of getting into character, coercing, and playing around—and my prey, the arrogant and foolish wretch, still doesn't understand the gap between us."

Ai chuckled, "After all, I am—the director."

Even villains have their differences!

The gunfire ceased completely under the cover of night, and everything became extremely quiet after the commotion.

But this is only the silence on one side of the present world.

On the other side, the churning of the red pool, separated by the outer wall of the nest, grew increasingly turbulent. This was a silent wave, echoing this desperate struggle and sending it far into the distance.

In this way, the remaining side will definitely be able to hear the noise coming from here as well—they just need to wait for them to enter.

—And I am ready.

Ai's gaze then rose upwards—

Where the streetlights were on, the stench of decay and sweet, fishy smells permeated his very being, regardless of distance. He heard a gurgling warning from the red liquid: "Goo, almost there."

—It's time.

When the prey is on its last breath, what it imagines in its mind must be a desperate counterattack and revenge.

"Let's go and turn this farce into a grand performance worthy of being shown on the screen."

Ai patted Xiao Qi's head, and tendrils of black and white spread out from behind him, like the most loyal guards surrounding him.

A faint gray hue seemed to rise above Kane Street.

It arrived silently.

the other side.

"Courtroom Temporary Task Force - Channel 2"

"Clearance Plan: Day 5, 204 out of 221 locations have been inspected, and all streets except Kane have been cleared of threats—"

"Task entry: Settlement has entered the final stage"

"Interim Commander: Ronan the Acting Officer"

"This is all that's left."

Ronan sighed, adjusting his black overcoat. The aging air circulation system made the temperature here even lower than the North River average.

—As the saying goes, one is influenced by one's surroundings. The infrastructure in the suburbs is also among the worst. After all, it could be occupied by rioters at any time. Apart from small workshops that don't matter where they are, who would put large-scale property here?

To be precise, Kane is more like a "quarantine zone".

Ronan had more or less guessed that those guys would eventually escape here.

only----

"If I could, I would never want to come here again in my entire life."

He looked further into the distance—between the buildings that were noticeably shorter, he could vaguely glimpse the “dark wasteland,” like a festering sore buried deep in the land.

Less than a month ago, this nest—nearly collapsed in that direction.

—The outskirts of the city.

Ronan's gaze was deep and he unconsciously slowed his pace. In the cleanup team, whose speed was "fixed," he was clearly noticed by the people next to him.

The antler-wearing girl blinked, shook her head, and whispered in his ear, "Interested in pulling off something big?"

Ronan glanced at the deer, sensing it was up to no good, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

Mia put her hands behind her back: "First, we'll utterly destroy that cult, then, with the cleanup crew, smash through that layer of ash, rush into the outskirts, and scatter that taboo thing—we'll go home and get promoted and make a fortune, how about that?"

—It really did generate electricity.

Ronan twitched his lips, but didn't respond to the crazy girl's words—this girl was in a state of high excitement, and it would be troublesome to get entangled with her.

"If you're not prepared to take action against what's forbidden, then what are you shirking for?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Looking at your worried face, anyone who didn't know better would think you were about to storm the outskirts. We're just here to do a favor; surely we can handle a secret cult, right?"

That's what they say.

Ronan sighed, unable to retort.

In fact, he wasn't too worried about that taboo entrenched in the outskirts. Although he almost destroyed the entire Holy Nest with his attack, for the past half month, "that taboo" had been as silent as if it were dead, sealing itself behind the gray curtain without making a sound or even moving.

Even the Foundation's blatant hostility and probing did not elicit the slightest reaction from "that person." Now, it's just a simple bandit suppression operation right under their noses, far less significant than the previous commotion.

It should be fine.

Nowadays, instead of worrying about things with an extremely low probability of happening, and which are completely unavoidable even if they do occur, we should focus on the present.

Instead of focusing on "risks," let's concentrate on the task at hand.

Following the alarm from the Hume Tree, Ronan reviewed the updated data once more.

He frowned.

Comparing the line chart from half an hour ago—the fluctuation of Hume's value experienced a sudden, dramatic leap. I don't know what triggered that "Holy Throne," but they seem to be on the verge of exploding.

"Hurry up!"

With the safety net of "correction" authority, Ronan made a "radical" decision, erasing the idea of ​​"observing for now" from his mind. He no longer wanted to give that cult any room to operate—after witnessing the tragedy firsthand on the first day, Ronan had come to this conclusion:

These scum who desecrate life, every second they live is a desecration of the will of "fire".

"Let's go straight to the area where the tremors are most intense."

The silent cleanup team continued their journey with heavy steps.

The barrage of comments has just stopped.

Bullets are the answer to harm, not the answer, to the body—under a street lamp, the disciples stood silently in a row, observing the scene before them.

The "heretical holy seat" had been shattered into a pile of blood and flesh, and there was a stench everywhere—a yellowish bloodstain seemed to be poisonous, and when it splattered on the ground and streetlights, it left a corrosive mark.

The "Holy Throne" was everywhere, so the ground was full of potholes.

"The target showed no signs of life — praise to pure white."

One of the disciples sent a message back to the think tank channel, but strangely, the birdsong above never stopped, and the swirling black shadow continued to make "coo-coo" sounds.

Until the streetlights, corroded by the blood of the Holy See, began to collapse, and the power went out, the scene was plunged into darkness once again after a loud bang.

"We haven't found any trace of the two people who were with them, so we're going to give chase immediately—"

Suddenly, the report was interrupted in complete darkness.

A strange, rustling sound—

Something seemed to be multiplying in the darkness—along the rotting flesh.

It is crawling.

It is in ————

Squirming.

"hiss"

Like the strange sound of sulfuric acid dripping onto rust, followed by a nauseatingly sweet odor rising in the center of the crowd, unease spread through the gloomy atmosphere. The devout disciples once again raised their guns, but did not know where to point them.

"Anomaly report: We have encountered..."

A long, sticky substance climbed up his neck, followed by another death of decay and dissolution.

The last communication received was: "Snake."

in the dark.

A figure slowly rose from the ground, its boneless body possessing an elegance and sanctity that did not belong to humankind.

She still had that pure and beautiful girlish face, but the skin on her abdomen was so thin it was almost transparent. Beneath the rotting flesh, there seemed to be something long and soft, swimming in the mucus. She raised her hand, and her finger bones curled and bent as if they didn't exist, overlapping to form a perfect arc.

"Hiss!"

—Sleeves wrapped around knuckles, clinging to the spirit.

—The spine can also grow inwards.

—Swallow the bird into its belly and pierce its venomous fangs into its bones.

—That's the established stance.

—The holiness of being gutted, the divinity of being about to hatch.

"hiss-

'

She raised her neck and let out another sharp screech.

Long, scaled creatures that crawl and wriggle.

"snake"