My whole family was brutally murdered? I awakened the thug system and went on a killing spree.

Qin Meng's five fingers were wedged between the hound's upper and lower jaws.

The three rows of serrated teeth twisted and turned wildly, scraping against the dark gold bones, producing a piercing noise like fingernails scratching a blackboard.

Sparks flew.

Seven or eight of the serrated teeth broke off, and the hound's muzzle was torn to the base of its ear. Dark green fluid sprayed all over Qin Meng's arm.

It smells so bad it's intoxicating.

This thing's saliva is even more pungent than the drainpipes of a public toilet.

The moment the liquid touched the skin, a layer of white smoke rose from the surface of the high-grade copper skin—not from corrosion, but from the high temperature of the skin evaporating the corrosive liquid directly.

The hound's hind legs thrashed wildly in the air, its three-toed claws slashing towards Qin Meng's abdomen.

The keratinized claws left a trail of white scratches on the dark gold-colored abdominal muscles.

He's quite strong. He's more than a whole order of magnitude stronger than those seventh-tier trash in the provincial capital.

Qin Meng pried the hunting dog's muzzle open to both sides.

The hound's jawbone snapped, and then its entire head was torn in two along the midline of its mouth.

Dark green brain matter and bone fragments splattered everywhere, covering the ground.

The headless body twitched on the ground for three seconds, its limbs still instinctively making tearing motions.

Qin Meng looked down at the two halves of the skull dripping with viscous fluid in his hand.

The antimatter furnace hummed inside the abdominal cavity.

The feeling of hunger came from the stomach wall, a sensation more direct than any pain—like someone who hadn't eaten for three days smelling the braised pork from next door.

He stuffed half of the hound's skull into his mouth.

The hardness of the keratinous exoskeleton is about 9 on the Mohs scale, which is slightly less than that of corundum.

For a set of teeth capable of crushing extraordinary crystals, it's like chewing popcorn.

Snap. Snap.

The sound of chewing echoed through the ruins. Several Beijing residents who were watching vomited.

The taste was indescribable.

If I had to describe it, it would be like soaking rusty iron nails in expired fish sauce for half a year, and then sprinkling them with sulfur powder.

Qin Meng's taste buds were subjected to a full-scale chemical attack.

But the antimatter furnace reacts quite enthusiastically to this ingredient.

[The antimatter furnace has initiated a digestion process. A high-dimensional erosion-type energy structure has been detected.]

This energy density is forty-seven times that of the flesh of a surface-dwelling monster. Physical dimensional reduction decomposition is underway...

[Decomposition efficiency: 12%. A significant amount of energy is dissipated as heat radiation. It is recommended to increase the core temperature to over 5000 degrees Celsius to improve the conversion rate.]

A conversion rate of 12% would normally be considered a loss for Qin Meng.

But the sheer number of them was overwhelming. The energy return from swallowing just one hound's head was more than what he had gained from eating half a ton of ninth-tier beast meat before.

He quickly finished the other half, squatted down, and began dismantling the hunting dog's body.

He tore it apart with his bare hands, splitting it along the midline of the spine. The cross-section of the keratinous exoskeleton turned red and softened under the heat of his palms, then was torn into strips. Qin Meng poured them into his mouth one by one.

It tastes like eating black jerky. The texture is roughly equivalent to chewing on an industrial-grade rubber tire.

[Physical Repair Progress: Skull fracture 67% healed, ribs have been set, and nerve signals in the left arm have recovered 31%.]

[Current calorie reserves have rebounded to above the safe level.]

As the skull healed, the dull pain from the electric drill began to subside, replaced by a throbbing, tingling, and numb sensation.

The little finger of my left hand can move, although only by half a centimeter.

Okay, this meal wasn't a waste of money.

With dark green fluid smeared at the corner of his mouth, Qin Meng looked up and glanced in the direction of the ruins of the Martial God Tower.

The fissure in the ground has expanded to a width of thirty meters.

Black fog billowed out, swallowing up the light sources of the surrounding two blocks.

That area became an absolute dark zone, with only the screeching sound of the hounds' claws scraping the ground and the low hissing from deep in their throats.

The quantity is increasing.

Qin Meng's extrasensory hearing detected at least three hundred independent heartbeat sources.

These heartbeats have an extremely low frequency, no more than twenty times per minute, but the amplitude of each beat is extremely exaggerated—the entire underground rock strata resonate with them.

The defensive line of the 7th Armored Division of the Garrison no longer exists.

Eight hundred meters away on the street, the shattered mech was broken into countless metal parts.

The cockpit of a heavy mech was torn open from the front by a hound, leaving only half of the pilot's torso hanging on the seatbelt, with his intestines hanging down for three meters, being tossed around by the hound.

The fleeing soldiers dropped their weapons and surged frantically toward the remaining buildings in the inner ring.

Some people were trampled to the ground, and others were tackled from behind by hunting dogs while running.

Screams pierced through our ears from all directions, more intense than air raid sirens.

Interestingly, Qin Meng noticed that the private soldiers of those aristocratic families ran faster than ordinary soldiers.

The Zhao, Li, and Ye families have deployed several thousand private armed forces in the capital, whose equipment is far superior to that of the garrison troops.

As a result, when the hounds rushed out, those running at the front were all elites wearing uniforms with family crests.

He's lost all his usual swagger and now wishes his parents would give him two more legs.

Qin Meng squatted at the edge of the pit and slowly finished the last piece of hound hind leg meat.

He had no intention of saving anyone.

When the 100,000-strong garrison of the capital besieged Jiangcheng, each one of them was more ferocious than the last.

When the Death Star ray was aimed at him, the group in the command post clapped and cheered.

Now that I'm being chased and bitten by the Abyss Hounds, who's to blame?

Qin Meng wiped the saliva from his mouth onto his trouser leg and stood up.

A crisp click came from the leg bone as it stood up—the joints of the bones had realigned.

My vision has recovered to 80%. My right eye is fine, but my left eye occasionally shows flashing spots of light.

The symptoms of the concussion were subsiding, but the area on the back of his head that Ji Wudao had smashed was still faintly swollen.

A burst of gunfire and explosions suddenly erupted from an office building 300 meters away.

A dozen hunting dogs are clearing out the survivors layer by layer.

Through the shattered window, you could see blue tracer bullets flying wildly through the office before being deflected by the hound's exoskeleton.

The whole building was shaking.

A load-bearing column on one floor was broken by a hunting dog, and the building emitted a tooth-grinding structural cracking sound as it slowly tilted to the right.

A group of citizens ran out of the lobby on the ground floor of the office building—men, women, the elderly, and children.

Some people were carrying laptops, others were carrying suitcases—it's quite typical of Beijingers to be thinking about financial documents at a time like this.

Two hunting dogs darted out from the side alley and blocked the escape route.

The scream made Qin Meng's ears ache a little.

He spat out a piece of unchewed keratin residue and glanced at the group of citizens crying and wailing.

It has nothing to do with him.

With his back to the collapsing office building, Qin Meng took two steps toward the ruins of the Martial God Tower.

He's going to eat.

A hunting dog swallowed the upper body of a middle-aged man in the crowd and was shaking its head to dislodge the remaining part of his spine.

A little girl, around ten years old, was slumped on the ground crying, her legs too weak to stand up.

Qin Meng took five steps and then paused.

It wasn't that I was soft-hearted; I just thought the crying was too loud.

He bent down and picked up a fist-sized piece of concrete from beside his feet, weighed it in his hand, and estimated it to be about four kilograms.

A flick of the wrist.

Concrete fragments shot out at supersonic speeds, leaving a scorching white trail in the air.

boom.

The head of the hound that was closest to it was completely gone, physically erased from the neck up, with dark green residue splattering all over the people around it.

Another hunting dog was thrown more than 20 meters by the shockwave generated after being pierced by the debris, and crashed into a wrecked bus.

Qin Meng flicked his fingers.

Keep going.

The crying behind him didn't stop, but that wasn't something he needed to worry about.

His goal was very clear.

The large crack beneath the ruins of the Martial God Tower is like a buffet table constantly spewing out food.

All he needs to do now is sit at the table and eat until he's stuffed.

The skull needs repair, the left arm needs repair, and the stomach wall burns caused by the overload of the antimatter furnace also need repair.

Repairing these things requires astronomical amounts of calories.

The tenth-tier materials looted from the provincial capital's treasury were utterly inadequate in the face of this kind of consumption. But these ugly creatures that had crawled out of the abyss before them—

Qin Meng licked his lips.

High in calories, filling, free, and delivered to your door.

I'm going to eat at a buffet.