Past Life Extra 8: A Far-Reaching Reputation for Killing

Standing just a few steps away from his partner Antonio, Tsukimi Shisui suddenly turned around.

He moved slightly, without any unnecessary preparation, and lightly touched the ground with his toes.

Then, like a bird taking flight, he leaped lightly and landed steadily on top of the straight, slender street lamp next to him.

He squinted slightly, gazing towards the distant dock.

In just one glance, he could tell that the other party had ill intentions.

That was no ordinary cargo inspection; it was more like a blockade with clear hostility.

A moment later, to the astonishment of Antonio, the head of the Dark River Shipping company, who was practically wide-eyed with surprise, he floated back to his original starting position as lightly as a falling leaf.

It was as if they had never left.

Antonio's apple bobbed, and he swallowed back the words, "Your skills are amazing..." that were about to come out of his mouth.

He wisely refrained from mentioning the other person's almost inhuman lightness and speed just now.

He simply lowered his voice and tilted his head slightly in the direction that Shisui had been gazing.

What happened over there?

I don't know.

Shisui shrugged, his tone casual and nonchalant.

"They're not friendly anyway. Whether they're here to cause trouble or to steal, it doesn't matter."

Antonio nodded in agreement, clearly acknowledging his statement.

However, his expression was not as relaxed as his Shisui.

He brought only a small number of weapons this time, and most of them were shipborne weapons.

Therefore, it is virtually impossible to take action without damaging the dock and cargo.

Moreover, they didn't want to act rashly and incur the displeasure of the Knox Mercenary Group.

This dock is one of the seaports that Knox uses to transport goods.

The docks were usually stocked with weapons, medicine, food, and other goods. Therefore, an attack on the docks was more than just a simple conflict.

This behavior not only cuts off people's livelihood but also threatens the mercenary group's logistics, which is almost tantamount to declaring war.

Just as he was pondering this, he saw Tsukimi Shisui suddenly turn his head and put on a polite smile.

The outer corners of the eyes are slightly upturned, with a gentle curve.

But the smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it sent a chill down Antonio's spine and a shiver of fear through him.

"Mr. Antonio," he began, "Would you mind if I left for a moment?"

"It's okay, it's okay."

Antonio quickly waved his hand; that glance had given him a vague idea of what the other was going to do, and he hurriedly said...

"You can go and take care of the problem over there first; I'll keep an eye on things here."

"Thank you so much."

Shisui nodded slightly.

As soon as he finished speaking, Antonio felt a blur before his eyes.

The figure that was just standing there vanished in an instant, as quickly as if it had never existed.

Only a cool breeze swept over him, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead.

This extraordinary speed caused Antonio to murmur involuntarily.

His voice was filled with shock and surprise, yet also contained a hint of uncertainty.

"Ghoul?"

The wind whistled through the gaps in the containers at the dock, carrying faint sounds of commotion in the distance.

Antonio stared in the direction where Tsukimi Shisui disappeared and clenched his fist.

It seems the docks are destined to be anything but peaceful today.

"Listen up, everyone! Keep only the weapons, the rest of the junk—smash everything you can!"

"Anything you can't smash, just burn it all to the ground later, don't leave me even ashes!"

The storage area at the edge of the dock has long lost any of its former neatness.

The once neatly stacked containers now looked as if their bones had been removed, collapsing and leaning precariously.

Broken plastic crates, categorized by type, were mixed with scattered goods, forming a thick layer on the ground.

A group of masked men were rampaging through the room.

The black cloth covering their faces couldn't hide the bloodshot eyes, and the weapons in their hands were a motley collection.

Old firearms, gleaming steel pipes, blood-stained knives.

Some even gripped rusty crowbars, swinging them with ferocity.

They specifically targeted the boxes at the very bottom of the stack of goods.

With an iron bar prying at the bottom of the container and then a hard kick, the entire "container building" collapsed with a loud crash after a few "cracks".

The goods included not only what Knox had ordered, but also all sorts of other things.

For a moment, the crisp sound of porcelain shattering, the dull thud of fabric tearing, and the clatter of canned food hitting the ground mingled together.

They seemed to be enjoying it, chuckling and cursing as they walked forward, stepping on the loose goods.

Most of these people had their eyes fixed only on the crates containing weapons.

His fingers were trembling as he rummaged through them; that urgent, burning desire could be seen from afar.

In the still turbulent Middle East, as long as you have good weapons, you can obtain all kinds of supplies by plundering.

These people will naturally prioritize targeting weapons.

The dockworkers had long lost their will to work.

Some people even lost a shoe while running, but they didn't bother to turn back and pick it up, only focusing on squeezing towards the entrance of the dock.

Most of them were temporarily hired for Dark River Shipping.

He was only wearing a coarse cloth short jacket, and his pockets were filled with his barely warm advance wages. He had never seen anything like this before.

The moment the sound of bullets whizzing past the cargo containers rang out, the crowd erupted in chaos.

Someone tripped and fell, then scrambled to their feet, shouting incoherently, "Don't shoot!" their voice trembling like a sieve.

Who isn't here for the wages?

I'm about to lose my life, what's the point of talking about work? I should be thanking God that I can escape this hellhole alive.

Among the crowd, a few figures did not run away, but instead went against the current.

They were overseers sent by Knox.

The foremen crouched low, hiding behind the overturned cargo containers, their guns peeking out stealthily. Taking advantage of the moment when the robbers were smashing the goods, they would suddenly fire a shot.

A bullet grazed the robber's arm, sending up a trail of blood.

Some hit vital points, taking down enemies who had been wantonly smashing and destroying things.

But they were too few in number; the bullets they fired had no effect on the crazed bandits.

Instead, this provoked the other side to turn around, and a dozen guns were fired at the cargo container.

The bullets struck the cargo box, instantly riddling it with holes.

There are too many people, we can't hold them off!

"We have to stop them, even if we can't! No one is allowed to back down before the person in charge gives the order!"

Just then, a voice suddenly came through the earphones, calm as still water, yet carrying an unyielding strength.

"Cease fire, withdraw."

The foremen abruptly stopped, a flicker of doubt and relief in their eyes—they'd just left like that?

The orders over the headset didn't give them much time to think, and Knox's rules also prevented them from disobeying their superiors.

They immediately put away their guns, crouched low, and slipped into the fleeing crowd, inching their way outwards.

I had only run a few steps when a loud "boom" exploded behind me.

The ground shook violently, and billowing dust billowed in.

The foremen instinctively turned around and saw dust rising from the direction they had just fired.

The smoke and dust seemed to be stirred up by some force, turning half the sky gray.

Immediately afterwards, screams erupted from the sandstorm.

It wasn't just one or two sounds, but a whole chorus.

The sound was as mournful as a cat whose tail had been stepped on, but it was quickly muffled by something, leaving only a few choking sounds rising and falling.

A moment later, the wind swept away some of the ash, revealing several shadows writhing within.

It's a tentacle.

It was as thick as a small bucket, its surface covered with dark, metallic-looking scales, which swung and tumbled through the smoke and dust.

The robbers who were baring their teeth and brandishing their claws just moments ago now looked like grasshoppers that had been trampled to death.

They all lay in pools of blood, their struggles futile.

The tentacles vanished abruptly before the smoke and dust had completely dissipated.

It was as if the fleeting glimpse they had just witnessed was merely an illusion created by the overseers.

Only the lingering smell of blood and burning flesh in the air served as a reminder of the swift and overwhelming annihilation that had just taken place.

At the scene, a white-haired young man calmly walked out from the mountain of corpses and sea of blood.

He slightly raised his eyes and gazed at the overseers who hadn't run far away.

The instant their eyes met, these members, who, like the young man, came from Knox and felt a chill run down their spines.

They instinctively lowered their eyes, bowed respectfully, and called out.

"Mr. Tsukimi."

Tsukimi Shisui nodded and casually gave an instruction.

"Clean up the battlefield and take stock of the losses."

"Yes."

The overseers, heads bowed, only dared to breathe deeply after Tsukimi Shisui had walked away.

At this moment, their backs were drenched in cold sweat.

"Now, Knox is about to produce another fearsome god of war."

Someone's sigh drifted away on the sea breeze.