Sir! Don't close the net!

The screams from Foucault and the others as they fled successfully ignited Rebecca's long-suppressed hunting instincts. Almost instinctively, Rebecca roared and leaped up, her strong, resilient back swaying as she shattered the damp ground. Rebecca shot out like a bullet, yet landed lightly on the wall, bouncing off once more. The series of sonic booms she broke through zigzag through the alley like lightning, as if gathering together the white thread that stitched up the scars that had bred evil.

Foucault turned his head, and in his slowly shrinking pupils, he saw flying flesh and entrails, and the desperate expressions of his companions flashing by like a slideshow, finally settling on the head of a bloodthirsty wolf. As he turned his head, his eyes met Rebecca's.

In an instant, blood filled Foucault's vision.

"Alas--"

Foucault screamed and turned around, only to have a flash of blood brush past him. He felt his legs go weak and he collapsed to the ground with a thud, his eyes reflecting the exit of the crime alley so close at hand.

"Just get to that place, just get to that place!"

Foucault struggled to stand up, but he couldn't feel his legs, or even his buttocks, as if he only had his upper body left.

Foucault struggled to turn his head and then couldn't help but scream; his buttocks were hanging on the wall.

Desperate screams brought an indescribable fear into the streets of Jurassic Circle. Many people recognized Foucault's voice and ran towards the screams, looking into the crime alley. But at first glance, many people covered their mouths and knelt down to vomit.

Chapter Fifty-Six: I really have no ulterior motives!

"Rebecca, are you... bigger than before?"

Li Yili crossed her arms and glanced up and down at Rebecca, who was shaking her head from side to side, with some surprise. Rebecca's fluffy ears fluttered from side to side with her movements.

It was shaking violently.

Even when he was in werewolf form, Rebecca was still shorter than him, but now he even had to raise his head.

"This, this is Rebecca?"

Annie gripped the armrest tightly with her fingers, her face pale as she stared at the werewolf in front of her, who was about two meters tall.

To be fair, if Li Yili hadn't so naturally slapped Rebecca when she was climbing through the window and pulled her back in, she would have almost fainted in her wheelchair. Of course, that doesn't mean she would have gone up to Rebecca with concern and ask if she had encountered any danger while out for a walk.

Especially now, blood is still dripping from Rebecca's left-hand nails, which look like daggers.

Annie personally feels that the current situation looks more like the terrible werewolf attacked Rebecca, then had a feast, leaving poor Rebecca with only a pair of Doc Martens.

Rebecca abruptly turned to look at Annie, and walked lightly to Annie's side. Her tall shadow pressed down mercilessly on Annie, who instinctively held her breath.

“Little Miss Anne, I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, raising her right hand with an embarrassed expression, her black Doc Martens clapping together with a clatter. “This is all that’s left.”

A familiar feeling pierced the increasingly heavy atmosphere like a tiny needle. Annie leaned back in her wheelchair and let out a long breath, gradually slumping down.

“Your clothes are torn… well, that’s not a big deal, clothes are just clothes,” Annie rubbed her face, relieving her tense muscles before letting out a long sigh. “So, Miss Rebecca… this is the real you.”

"Of course! But because of the improved nutrition, I've grown quite a bit taller than before," Rebecca raised her head, her thick, club-like tail sweeping back and forth, accidentally knocking over a chair.

Annie couldn't help but glance at Li Yili beside her, then raised her hand to her forehead.

Why was she so surprised?

How could anyone following Li Yili be a normal person?

Anne, having barely managed to convince herself to accept this reality, pointed her index finger at the Doc Martens hanging on Rebecca's paw.

"Uh, so... Rebecca, can you turn back? You can't wear any clothes."

"Well..." Rebecca raised her paw and scratched her face, her eyes wandering.

Although she had gotten used to her human form over the past few days, she became somewhat carried away after only an hour in her human form. The sensation of tearing those thugs apart was still lingering on her fingertips, and she seemed even stronger now than when she was in Teresa Prison. Perhaps...

Rebecca subconsciously glanced at Li Yili, who was a head shorter than her.

Now she's even stronger than Li Yili.

"Huh?" Li Yili glanced at Rebecca.

"Goo-"

Rebecca, her wolf fur standing on end, immediately squatted down on the ground, her Martin boots slamming to the floor with a thud, and she rubbed her paws together in front of her as if trying to please her.

"Of course I can change back, I'd love to! Really! I have absolutely no ulterior motives!"

Under Annie's subtle gaze, Li Yili reached out and grabbed Rebecca's head, dragging the wailing Rebecca into the corridor, turning into an empty room. Then, a flash of blue light appeared, and Li Yili returned whistling, but Rebecca did not appear.

Anne peeked out curiously and tentatively called out, "Miss Rebecca?"

After a while, Rebecca, wrapped in a bed sheet, peeked out and gave Annie a somewhat embarrassed smile. "Little, little Miss Annie, look, I've turned back into my old self, haven't I?"

“You seem to be very insecure?” Annie blinked.

“This is what happens when you suddenly lose your power,” Li Yili bent down and picked up Rebecca’s Martin boots, the black soles covered in mud. “How many people have you killed? By the way, you didn’t eat anything unclean, did you?”

Anne's heart skipped a beat as she looked at Rebecca, who was wrapped in a bed sheet and looked weak, pitiful, and helpless.

She almost forgot that Rebecca's claws were stained with blood when she was a werewolf.

"No way! They looked disgusting, I couldn't even swallow them!" Rebecca scratched her face with her blood-stained fingers on the bed sheet, leaving a bloody mark. "If it was a few... I think it was those people we met today? Killed... five? Six? I forgot, but they didn't leave any alive."

After thinking for a while, Rebecca gave up and grinned.

The beautiful face looked incredibly terrifying because of the line of blood.

"Oh, really? They seem to be so-and-so's men. The commotion you caused must have been quite significant," Li Yili said, raising her eyebrows slightly as she held her chin.

"Huh? Yes, really?" Rebecca shrank back, a little embarrassed. "None of them are alive... Okay, it seems like one of them almost made it out, but I cut off his lower body, so he should be dead. His butt should still be hanging on the wall."

Li Yili could already picture the scene; it was probably something that could be directly moved into a horror movie.

"Looks like things are going to get lively in the Jurassic Circle's underworld tomorrow... no, today," Li Yili said, chin in hand, eyes slightly narrowed, turning her head to look at Lei.

Becca.

Rebecca instinctively shrank back, thinking that Li Yili was going to scold her.

"Rebecca, how about we go for a walk tomorrow night?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The residents of the Jurassic Circle watched the alley from afar, their faces pale, as a nauseating stench of blood seeped out.

"The Mafia is here!"

Someone shouted, and the crowded residents of Jurassic Circle immediately scattered, making way for a mafia member dressed in a black suit, with a burly build and a fierce appearance. He walked through the path cleared by the residents and arrived at the alley. It was not a scene of terror that people would expect. Even the mafia members felt a wave of nausea and wanted to vomit.

"Get out of the way—"

A cold snort from behind struck the frozen mafia members like a thunderbolt. They jolted and quickly moved aside. A tall, white-haired old man with a cane stood in front of the alley. His cloudy eyes swept over the group and finally settled on Foucault's despairing expression. His ten fingers, adorned with gold rings, tightened slightly.

Something has come in.

The old man exhaled, turned around, and flicked his hand.

"Go back and inform the others that it's time to have a meeting."

"If you don't want to die."

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Talks on the Train

Bathed in steam under the dazzling starlight, the pitch-black train sped along the tracks within the Jurassic Circle.

An oak table large enough to seat more than a dozen people stands in the train carriage. Behind the elegant European-style Victorian-style patterned partitions, black figures fill the gaps between the patterns like a curtain.

This is a train exclusively for the Jurassic Circle Mafia; only high-ranking Mafia executives and leaders are qualified to ride it.

"Is everyone here?"

At the end of the oak table, an elderly man with graying temples sat down, leaning on his cane. His gaze followed the oak table forward, his pupils fixed on the darkness at the end, while the sides of his pupils reflected the figures of several people sitting around the oak table.

“Everyone who could get there has arrived,” said the man furthest from the old man, who was playing with a dagger, sticking out his forked tongue like a snake’s tongue. “There are quite a few guys who want to start their own businesses lately, Father Norman. You’ve been too good to them.”

The old man, addressed as Godfather, remained expressionless; his fingers, resting on his cane, moved up and down, the solid gold rings clinking together. 694936135

“I think you should shut up,” the obese man, who was practically crammed into the chair, complained.

"what?"

Norman raised his cane and tapped it lightly on the floor. A cold glint flashed in his cloudy eyes. The two cadres who were about to test their skills immediately fell silent and sat up straight. The other cadres subconsciously chuckled, but when they saw Norman's cold face, they could no longer laugh.

“Someone died today,” Norman said, turning his chair around so that only his back was visible to the other officers.

“Deaths are a very common thing, aren’t they?” the man playing with the dagger blinked.

His name is Snake, a Mafia executive responsible for torture, hunting, and other such tasks. He sees dead people most often, and he knows Norman's personality. Norman doesn't like beating around the bush and always gets straight to the point at the beginning.

When it comes to holding a meeting because of a dead person, there's only one thing Snake can think of.

"Could it be that some fool killed someone from Millennium?"

Snake's words caused the expressions of the others to change.

While there's a saying that even the Church of Steam and Steel has to give the Mafia face in the Jurassic Circle, this doesn't mean the Mafia has the ability to confront the Church of Steam and Steel. The Mafia's only weapon is firearms, which are very lethal to ordinary people, but are like fireworks to those favored by the gods. Those favored by the gods are indeed very rare in the wasteland, but most are in the Steam and Steel camp, and the rest are on the side of the wasteland royal family and nobles.

The Church of Steam and Steel treated them more like rare animals, because their social system was so unique and difficult to replicate that they were tolerated in every way.

But Millennials are different. They inherently despise wastelanders outside of Millennials and consider themselves superior to other wasteland residents. The wasteland royal family and nobles are the biggest beneficiaries and supporters of this idea. If a Millennial were to die in the Jurassic Circle, the wasteland royal family and nobles would definitely demand an explanation from the Mafia.

The Mafia can be stubborn, but if the chosen ones from the wasteland royal family and nobles come down, they'll back down.

“Godfather, my idea is to get rid of the bastard who did this,” the fat man who had previously silenced Snake said, standing up and slamming his hands heavily on the oak table. “Keeping someone like that alive will only cause us a lot of unnecessary trouble!”

He is Pigg, a Mafia executive in charge of trade. He frequently comes into contact with the Chalk Circle and even the Millennium in the capital, so he knows very well how neurotic and unreasonable the Millennium are when it comes to defending their position in the wasteland, and what's worse is that no matter how neurotic the Millennium are, they can only put up with it.

"Yeah yeah!"

"This kind of troublemaker can't be allowed to live!"

Other cadres also realized the seriousness of the problem and stood up to make suggestions.

Norman let out a soft breath and spun his chair. The cadres, who had been discussing animatedly, immediately fell silent and sat back down with a thud, staring intently at Norman's aged but dignified profile, cold sweat pouring down their foreheads, not daring to breathe.

After a long while, Norman raised his finger and tapped his cheek.

"It wasn't the Millennium members who died, but a few petty thugs."

All the cadres were stunned for a moment, then blinked and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Snake laughed and waved his hand, "Godfather Norman, you really love to joke. I don't care, but Piglet was almost scared to death."

"Yeah, yeah, that's not true! Who are you underestimating!"

Piglet rubbed his hands together unconsciously and chuckled a few times, but quickly realized what was happening and roared angrily in Snake's direction with his thick neck.

“They died very strangely,” Norman said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It was as if they had been attacked by some terrible creature. I’ve never seen such a desperate scene in my life.”

The cadres were all taken aback, but they were not as nervous as they had been before, when they had worried that someone had killed Millennium's people.

“Father Norman, I don’t quite understand what you’re saying,” Snake said, crossing his legs and tossing the dagger in his hand. “Father Norman, you should come visit me more often.”

Norman glanced at Snake but didn't speak. Snake's expression changed, and he immediately put his leg down, placed the dagger on the table, pushed it forward, and gave an awkward laugh. "Godfather, I just thought you should learn more about our work, cough cough cough—I absolutely didn't mean anything else."